Thomas Wictor

Archive for the ‘Mom’ Category

The Rat Palace

I’ve gotten messages from people expressing sympathy that Tim’s alluvial shanty will be demolished. While I appreciate the sentiments, it’s really time for the place to go to house heaven. Tim’s name for his former home is the Rat Palace. I have no idea if everyone else on the street was plagued with rats the…

 

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I’m not the right guy to ask

Someone sent me a link to Scott Adams’s post “I Hope My Father Dies Soon” and asked me my opinion on it. In his piece Adams says the following: My father, age 86, is on the final approach to the long dirt nap (to use his own phrase). His mind is 98% gone, and all…

 

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Nothing bores me more

Don’t try to engage me in a discussion on the battle of the sexes. Nothing bores me more. Men and women are different; men and women are both human. The end. Someone just made the most obtuse statement I’ve ever read about my writing. Though I won’t repeat it, here’s my reaction to it. I…

 

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That which was lost has been found

In 1975, when we moved from Tyler, Texas, to Rijswijk, the Netherlands, we had to put much of our furniture and possessions in storage. Most of the rental homes in the Netherlands were furnished. We rented a storage facility, had our things packed up, and flew off to Holland. When we moved to Stavanger, Norway,…

 

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An unexpected un-ghosting

After Mom’s funeral and the reception, I heard car doors slam in the driveway of what I should start calling Tim’s house. Since I wasn’t able to attend the service, I went over to talk with Tim, Paul, and Eric to find out how it went. There was a very expensive imported car parked in…

 

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They could not box her in

It wasn’t possible to classify Mom. I know how she voted, but voting is secret in our republic. She and I discussed politics daily during the last two years of her life. Still, I won’t reveal her political views. What I can say is that regardless of how she voted, she couldn’t be placed in…

 

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Do your worst

Today I was told of another massive flaw in my Website. It means I was lied to yet again. Corners were cut and I was patted on the head, told, “Yes-yes-yes. Good little Tommy. Bye-bye,” and sent on my way after the final payment was made. That’s okay. My publicists are helping me overcome this…

 

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Accuracy is evil! Shut up!

A plurality of the people interested in military history are terminally unpleasant. I keep having that realization rammed into my block-of-oak head. They believe that accuracy is evil. My latest dust-up with a very unpleasant, truculent military buff was over my statement that a certain book contains many historical inaccuracies. I won’t copy and paste…

 

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Mom, I’m really pissed off at you

I’m very angry at you for killing yourself, Mom. Sad-angry, not I’ll-smash-your-face angry. So I’m going to do what you always said when you got upset: “I want to write a letter to somebody!” Here’s my letter to you. Dear CeeCee: You died on October 13, 2013, after nine months of refusing to eat. Since…

 

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The importance of not being afraid

Both my parents were afraid to die, but Dad was crippled with terror. It was simply not possible to talk to him about his death. He told me in all seriousness that until he was seventy-five, he honestly thought he’d live forever. I’ve never known anyone who thought he was immortal. The neighbors who used…

 

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