The Temples, Shermans and Armstrongs.

My genius little brother has once again worked his technomagic, this time capturing some stills from an 8mm filmed on my first birthday. All I can say is, "Wow."

Gloria and Laura

Little Me, and Gloria

My Cousin Bill

Beloved Aunt Mary

Beloved Uncle Gene with Mom in shadow

Beautiful Barbara

Beloved James

Daddy

Good Day.

Nice breakfast, tea and sweet potato hash browns. Gardened. Brushed the dog. Read the news. Went to WalMart. Phone call from Carol, she just got back from camping. Cold, but she rested well. Cleaned house to Brand X. Visited friends. Cooked dinner. Spa bath (mmm, Radox) by candlelight. Short workout on stationary bike. Stretching and simple yoga, calming yoga music, good mat. Relaxed. Good for back. Feeling good. 60 minutes (exemplary reporting on the war in Afghanistan, and gastric bypass surgery). Andy's getting senile. Nature, about silverbacks in the Congo. Fascinating Fosse facts, incredible footage. Bill Maher, then bed. Henry's nodding off on the couch. Overall a pretty good day.

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Loving James.

So much has been happening lately, but the most important thing to tell you of is the passing of our beloved James. What a loving, completely charming and wonderful human being he was, and now, his struggle is over, he is at rest. Rest in peace, James. What a trooper. What a great, great guy.

We all know funny people. And we all know how much we're drawn to them. Without a shred of hesitation, I can tell you that James Temple is the funniest person I've ever known. He had that way about him, the ability to crack us all up with just one word. He was one of the top Buick salesmen in the nation, but may have missed his calling; because of his unparalleled clever wit I often thought he could have done well as a comedian. I never saw him angry, or upset, or anything negative. He was always smiling and happy, even when the ravages of Parkinson's overtook his ability to smile, but he could always make others laugh. We just had to listen harder.

I will miss James. We will celebrate his life next Saturday. I love his family, his people are my people, and it's been a while since we've gotten together so it's going to be wonderful, but at the same time, difficult. I want to tell some stories about James, and I suppose his wake would be a good place to do it. My Dad could tell the story better, but apparently when Dad and James were young men, before they became the wonderful fathers they are, they were at a social gathering at someone's home, some time in the mid-1950's. Apparently, my parents and Barbara and James were over for company at another couple's home, a new friend my Mom had made at work. So James and Dad are longtime chums, and they're meeting this new guy for the first time, and he was seriously into auto racing. Apparently he was into auto racing so much, he had LPs of engine noises. So the men went to the garage to look at the guy's engine, and the women were in the kitchen, and the guy puts on one of these bizarre records, out in the garage. Dad and James were not impressed and were giving each other sideways glances like, who is this guy? When the engine inspection and weird engine record were over, they gathered in the living room. On the coffee table were a bowl of potato chips, and a bowl of onion dip. The people owned a dog, a boxer. Apparently, so the story goes, Dad and James are the only ones watching the dog, as the dog was trying to walk between the coffee table and the sofa. It was a tight squeeze for the beast and he had a hard time of it but pushed on through. Dad and James watched in horror as the dog's um, jewels, accidentally dragged through the bowl of dip. As the dog enjoyed his new-found treat, James turned to Dad and whispered in his ear with that famous poker face: "Let's go bowling." On the way out, they whispered to their wives, "Psst. Don't eat the dip."

Later, after bowling a few lanes and downing a few beers, my Dad left to go use the men's room. James volunteered to go with, stepping ahead of him a few yards in order to hold the door open for him. Standing with his back to the open door, he motioned for Dad to go on ahead, then stepped back outside to wait. It wasn't until a woman walked into the restroom that he realized James had tricked him, blocking the "Women" sign so Dad couldn't see he was entering the wrong rest room. Dad was tickled in complete embarrassment. Cool trick, completely original.

Where I Live.

At last! A totally comprehensive and complete history of Milpitas on the Web. What an excellent written account, the lands described here are the very grounds I walk, and I am so glad indeed to have found it in order to share with you. I am proud to live in Milpitas. I have lived here 40 years. I remember as a child, going on a walking expedition with my class and encountering a huge mound of clam shells in the hills, buried in black clay, and it all comes back to me now. Seriously -- I remember, hiking in the hills above Tamara Simpson's house, in Wylie Drive. We came across a hidden cemetery, not of the Native American kind, but of the Pioneer kind -- gravestones that read from the 1800's. Now there's a fence around it and it's a city monument, but when I was a kid, it was all out there in the open. Everything has changed.

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Good Times!

Hey! I passed the CCLS exam. How cool is that. I only agonized over it for a year. I was supposed to have taken it last October, but was temporarily disabled (terrific outcome on the foot thing, by the way) and had to postpone. Wow, on my first try, too. Now to play it down to a professional tone and get on with life, I had my woohoo now it's time to move on. I have a ton of work tomorrow...the efilings started swirling around in cyberspace precisely at 5 o'clock, straight to me like bees homing in on the hive at sunset.

Beautiful Girl.