I've included a postcard from my first grandchild, Diesel. It's just a scribble. Sadly, I never met the lad until eight years after he was born. I had two weeks to leave Thailand when I couldn't get my passport renewed because of my back child support, so in a panic I called Madelaine, who was then living in Woodbridge, Virginia, to ask if I could come stay with her and her husband Donald, and child Diesel -- since I had absolutely nowhere else to go and no money saved up in the bank, thanks to my importunate girlfriend Joom. I had to borrow the funds for a one-way ticket back to the States. (I still owe an old Bangkok friend 1200 dollars for that ticket -- I wish I knew where he was now; I'd start paying him back ten dollars a month. Really, I would.)
Donald was never very happy having me under his roof. He refused to let me have a room of my own, so I slept on the living room couch for six months while I stayed with them. (And paid rent, too.)
While living in Woodbridge I was called up before the bench for owing over 100 thousand dollars in back child support -- the judge made it very plain that unless I came up with a plan to start paying that off in large installments I would go to jail. Terrified, I told this to Madel in tears, who told Amy about it. At her own expense, she flew out from North Dakota to intercede with the judge on my behalf. He forgave the back child support, as long as I started paying one hundred dollars a month for Daisy's support -- she was still living with Amy back in Ray ND.
I bless Amy's name every time I think of the hell she saved me from.
None of my kids write poetry today, although all the girls did back in high school. I wish they had kept it up.
To me, poetry is the salt and pepper of life. You can get along without it -- but why would you want to?
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