Take two thick slices of Noonie's day old bread, smear Honey Cup honey mustard
liberally over both. Cover both slices with green leaf lettuce. Then on one slice only lay smoked turkey on the lettuce,
a tomato slice on the turkey and sprinkle it with shredded carrot. Then on the lay a slice of provolone cheese over the
carrot then a green pepper ring on top of the cheese. Sprikle with sprouts. Cover with the other slice, lettuce side down.
The letuce should be stuck to the bread with honey mustard so it doesn't fall off when you turn it upside down to cover the
sandwich. Slice sandwich in half with a knife. Wrap in tightly in plastic wrap. Use too much wrap. Tape on label. Tadaaa!
Weighs one pound. Costs Four Bucks.
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teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed,
to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door."
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Ethan Allen Tower
"During the 1992 campaign, Bill Clinton
sometimes spoke of a 'twofer' (two for the price of one) presidency,
implying that Hillary would play an important role in his
administration."
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Dreams of the Farm
Friday, December 07, 2007
My Grandfather is on the left and my Grandmother is on the right. The three boys are my mother's brothers. My mother took this picture in the late 1940s, down on the farm in Sudbury, Rutland County. Click the photograph for higher resolution.
Thanks JH, but I don't know very much of my history. I know that I'm a direct decendent of one of the guys on the Mayflower, and I can join their society if I want to pay the annual dues.
I know I have three surviving siblings in Armenia in their 70s whom I've never met and probably never will.
My grandfather and his farm were never part of my own experience. He died and my Grandmother sold the land to live in a trailer across the road before I was born. She died back in 2000. The only grandparent I knew.
I am the spawn of two forgotten worlds- pre-Bolshevik Armenia and WWII era rural VT. That my parents met and bred just proves that fate has a sick sense of humor.
I have no idea who or what I'm supposed to be. Don't confuse the posting of a photo with any particular cache of knowledge on my part.
And sorry I haven't responded to your email. To answer your question, I don't know what I'm going to do. I'll have to find a new job soon. The unemployment people aren't going to buy my bullshit very long. I'm trying to get hired in a school as a para again. The thought of going back to a cubical makes me sick. There are no decent jobs for a person like me. I'm screwed.
Fair enough. Let me put the sentiment in perhaps a more applicable, and therefore palatable fashion: at least your kids (and you) have some access to your history. What you make of it is up to you. But, like many, many other things: better have it and not use it, then not have it and wish you did.
Being what we're 'supposed' to be is more often than not a fairly simple decision. One for which we are ultimately responsible. Or, we can just be what we need to be. Either way, you're a dad. Not sure anything will compare in importance. Do what well, and you're being exactly what you're supposed to be.
Now that my cover is blown, I'll have to assume another alias....
Whoa! That's a big wheel. This picture is cool. You look like a few people in the pictures and I'm not just saying that because I think all white people look alike. I'd like to have some random ancestral pictures and make up my own stories about them. Sadly I don't even have any childhood pics before 7.
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"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses
yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your
teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed,
to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door."
-Emma Lazarus, 1883
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Junktique's New Site
Junktique's Old Site
Jessica Sklar
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyNJbNbmUUkmfGLaBuqicz0Zvqt-1zb2AzXdfm1qMXh8AfpmG9leXo0dm_wo-26BNSQz0sc5nzPl7NU4PdQjb1wqbgKf1-A7vG2K8EsV40igIcBQahcPJFPCUfHFy3aSWN2yi8qg/s1600/henry%2527s.jpg")
Great pic. Nice you your kids will grow up knowing so much of their history. Undervalued these days.