Hi, this note is merely a light-hearted means of telling you I’m one of your oldest travel story writers.
In the dim, distant past when I was a disc jockey, 88 meant to me the 88 keys on a piano. Now, however, since the arrival of July 18, 2015 it means something entirely different. It just so happens that this octogenarian has reached the ripe old age of:
Without ever having been shot, hung or incarcerated, the feeling on this end of the block is one of great personal satisfaction in achieving something I’ve always felt was possible, and now it’s a proven fact. I look back with great pleasure and look forward with excited anticipation to a period of continued activity of one kind or another.
It has been an intriguing passage along life’s trail, wonderfully rewarding in friendships, offspring, adventures, (even some mis-adventures) and memories piled upon memories, some of which I actually remember.
To all and sundry, stick around. I intend to do the same. Be sure to check out the attachment. It’s the real secret for our overall serenity. Located in our courtyard, the gentle burbling sound and negative ions quietly disperse any disparity in our general well-being.