There were three colors last Sunday.
I noticed three colors last Sunday. One was green and worn
by the minister. The other was brown and was the wooden floors and walls.
And on Sunday the color of the sky was blue.
I saw many friends throughout the week.
And the sky was blue all week with no rain.
What would happiness bring. Yellowstone Park
and the air in the morning at about 8:00 AM. The cool
North West air in the morning. I was born in Spokane, Washington.
In Opportunity. In the Valley. In a division called Kokamo.
My father was a multimillionaire when I was born, at 33 years old.
He was born in the depression and had lived in a Chicken Coop in
Whinanchi, Washington. He told me most of his stories growing up.
In the south we lived in Picayune Miss. in an Apartment while we
oversaw the work on the Apollo One First Stage. In the Midwest
we lived in an Upper-Class neighborhood. And last Sunday at
Church, I remembered my father had been a Deacon at our Church
and in our children’s choir we had sang Jerimiah was a Bull Frog.
But I don’t remember learning French and it is coming back slowly
as are Italian and the other languages. What color is a language.
What colors does it possess. What are the ideas they express.
I can’t tell you what I don’t remember. I do remember Swordfish steak
by the ocean. I remember sports cars and how in love with music I was.
Was it a steep price to pay for whatever I accomplished in life. No.
September 