Photo Essay: Postcards from my Kids. "I'm just sitting here with the hiccups."

In today's installment of postcards Virginia is battling 'hiccups' as she writes to me. Sarah disclaims all knowledge of having a boyfriend, or even a male study buddy -- methinks she protests too much. And Madelaine is in over her head with some gal named Ginger with an internet MLM scheme. Which she offers to let me in on -- on the ground floor!  I distinctly remember politely turning down the so-called opportunity and advising her to extricate herself from it asap. I no longer recall what happened -- maybe I'll find another postcard from Madel with further details. 
Amy's family, at least the distaff side, always had trouble staying away from MLM and ponzi schemes. Amy's mother was a firm believer in Shaklee supplements, and Amy also gave in to the superstition. On our honeymoon in Provo she tried to get me to take nearly a dozen Shaklee pills each day, which I stoutly refused, calling them (in those far off days when we could kid with each other because we were sex-crazed maniacs) 'snake oil bunco.' Her concern for my health was sincere and very touching; she was convinced I would soon expire from malaria or dry beriberi if I did not ingest Shaklee's wonder pills on a daily basis. So, to humor her, I let her mix up half a dozen pills in the blender with milk and a banana for a Shaklee smoothie. I took one gulp and promptly spewed it back up. No more was said about it -- at least until things began to fall apart fourteen years later, when my resistance to Amy's extravagant spending on nutritional supplements and tea tree oil and god knows what else threatened to bankrupt us. I put my foot down, and was thus guilty of child abuse -- endangering the health of our children because of my miserliness.
If I seem a bit overwrought about the whole subject, it's because our son Irvin was a victim of this damnable mindset. He died soon after the divorce, in a diabetic coma, despite Amy's cursed Shaklee pills. 
You never really get over the death of your own young child, not in this life. Only in the next life, when I can clasp him in my arms again, will the rent in my heart, and in Amy's heart, truly be healed for good.