Pity party

So I was feeling all sorry for myself and was gonna write all about all my problems, then I switched over to Springer. I always watch Springer in between getting ready for school or whatever (today an 11 am funeral). Springer today is a recast of an 11 year old program from when he did more than just watch fights happen. He’s in Hollywood talking to street kids and street people.

So OK, I’m having difficulties but I’m not on the streets and I’m not at my own funeral.

I had a distinct advantage when I was a street kid. I had a place to go back to if I wanted to. My parents had a healthy paranoia of the system and didn’t put me in it, although it was threatened myriad times. I suspect they also felt an innate sense of personal responsibility. Unlike alot of the parents who just say I quit and never could handle parenting.
I had uncanny luck and a higher intelligence than a lot of people on the street. That was a distinct advantage. Although on the street luck is a very relative thing. Trust me when I say I know I had it, despite appearances.

The funeral I went to was interesting, sometimes you never know peoples religious background until you meet them under certain circumstance. I saw alot of musicians I know following the Episcopalian forms of ritual.

My first graveside service, with a 21 gun salute. The smell of the freshly dug grave, the gunpowder and the rain was really quite good. I thought it was beautiful. People kept putting umbrellas over me but I loved the rain.

And again with the freaky coinkidinks, just a few days ago I had driven past Webers and said “I wish I was going to Weber’s for a nice lunch” and a few days before that I was bemoaning the fact that one can’t find Manhattan style clam chowder anywhere anymore. So the luncheon after the services was at Webers with Manhattan clam chowder being served.

But none of that is what I've been thinking about lately, maybe later.