August 28, 2011

Soon after arriving at my cousins house, her husband reminded me of the last time I went to San Francisco.  I was about 21 years old, and my brother was moving down to Los Angeles. My parents had made a deal with him that if he saved half the money for a music school he wanted to attend, they would pay the other half.  He surprised them and did it and at 19 years old was ready to head out on his own.  My parents didn't want him driving down alone, so I drove out with him and then after visiting with family for a couple days, flew back by myself.

Our trip out was amazing, something I'll have to dig out the scrapbook and reminisce about soon. Just Joe and I driving across the country. Funny thing, I doubt I would let my kids do the same thing, but back then for us, it was the time of our lives!  


Me, Joe, Keith and Lisa

I've been thinking a lot about my brother lately. On August 23, 2003, it was 8 years since the day he had his aneurysm. Then he battled for his life for three weeks in the hospital, until the scheduled surgery on September 16th. The results of the surgery took his life, and he died the next day.

I always remember getting the kids ready for back to school, Joel and Zach heading out on their last camping trip of the year, only for me to call searching for them and a park ranger having to go find them at their campsite to send them home.  That trauma stayed with Zach for many years...





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