To Do It All Again ?????

I have been thinking a lot lately about if I could do it all again would I do it the same or would I have perhaps been better off following a different dream?

I wanted early retirement after stumbling through a couple different careers, so at age of 60 I decided to act upon the dream of buying an RV, selling all assets, including out beloved river home, and becoming a traveling nomad in the RV. It took a lot to convince my life partner that we should do it.

Our two boys, now settled in their own lives and families, had took up residence many miles from the old home stomping grounds, and therefore the decision was somewhat easy.

Off we went, wheeling that beautiful Motor Home all over the North American Continent, Canada, and Mexico. A different backyard on any day that we decided to move, as for the most part we followed that perfect temperature of 72 degree’s.

I couldn’t even conceive of recanting all the beautiful adventures we had. It would take up someone’s entire computer memory if I were to post every back yard we were so lucky to witness. The friends we made and then catalogued while hoping that our paths one day would cross again.

Now with all that behind us. The RV sitting on the second of consignment lots, still unsold, and we seemingly in limbo residing in a place that keeps us comfortable, warm, dry and very bored, and wondering === should we have followed a different dream?

I am hoping that second guessing myself at this stage of my life is normal and that trying to figure out what a different dream would have looked like is OK. Thinking it through, I do believe the choice of dream to follow was correct, as I have only, through memory breached the very beginning. As each past chapter tip toes through my brain, I sometimes see myself sitting in that beach chair, with margarita in hand, on some south sea island, watching my life partner frolicking in the wash of the sea.

Dreams are worth having, aren’t they?

Kathleen’s Imagination December 2007

Don’t leave me my darling
Come Back my Love

Kathleen here,

The plan, always, is to drag our chairs, our books, our sunscreen, and our bottles of water down to the beach and enjoy a lovely afternoon of relaxation. And this we do. The blue sea, endless and beckoning, its waves crashing to shore, each with a different style, a different sound, a different purpose. But the many times we have been to the beach, I have yet to pick up a book. I have not closed my eyes for a quick siesta.

I cannot pull my eyes away from the surf, as it is mesmerizing. The last time we were there, my attention was given to a couple of coconuts that had found their way to the shore. They were bouncing and rolling with the waves, as if they had together planned a day of fun in the sun.

I imagined them being lovers frolicking in the surf. One was caught by a wave and rode it high until it was dumped onto the incoming rush. He then rolled until the wave deposited him onto dry sand far up onto the beach. His mate bobbed in the surf and caught a wave as she called for her lover to join her. She rolled and bounced, attempting to reach him, but the surf only pulled her back again into the sea. Soon a crashing wave rolled in far enough to catch him; he grabbed it and was washed out to her. They again played together enjoying the cool sea. Another roll of the sea and she found herself on the sand. She watched him as he was tossed about and calling to her. Occasionally they both were together either in the waves or on the sand. But they were never close enough for an embrace.

This continued for the duration of our visit to the beach. As the afternoon passed, the waves grew stronger and fiercer. One of the lovers got a little too far out. Her mate rolled and twisted on the sand trying to catch an out-going wave, only to be pushed higher onto the beach. I could imagine his calls to her as he watched in horror. She continued to bounce and with futile attempts, she was pulled further and further away. A wave finally caught him, and he pushed to reach its peak. He threw himself out to her with a frantic heart and sickening fear. But she was nowhere to be seen. The under tow had swept her beyond the protection of the small cove and had sent her tumbling onto the rocks. His attempts to join her beyond the barrier of those rocks, was in vain.  He was sent rolling, as the waves spit him out onto the sand.

As we prepared to leave, a wave rushed ashore and he soon was on it gaining speed and heading out to catch a climbing roll to the sea. I turned and watched him, as we climbed the steps to our car. He was bouncing and turning, calling, and crying for his beloved.  At last, I saw her. She had made it to the safety of the beach away from the fierce waves and the rocks. But jagged rocks now separated them. She was calling to her love, trying to be heard above the crashing sound. She was safe. Did he hear her? Was he trying to catch the wave that would carry him to her? My hope is that they would find one another and the sun would set as they finally shared an embrace.

George, who has not the imagination that I have, had one remark after reading my story.

“I wonder if one of them could have been Wilson?” Copyright Kathleen M. Brosius – December, 2007

A Missed Friend

When one reaches the ripe ol’ age of 76 one has had many friends. I know some of you find that hard to believe, that I actually had friends, but I did. The friend I speak of was somewhat recent in the scheme of things.

Our Foray into several years of living in Zapata Texas and enjoying some world class Bass fishing led me to meet and become friends with one of the partners of the Zapata Texas Tackle Shop ( Falcon Tackle ). James and his brother Tommy own and run the shop.

In addition to the shop James writes, edits, and publishes a blog which primarily is a current fishing report of the fishing activity on Falcon Lake. James has, shall we say a colorful way of presenting the report and after covering the fishing report he quite often ventures off in a political rant direction.

Caution: I am about to present a quote of James’s most recent Lake Fishing Report and the colorful way that James is known to express himself may be a little too colorful for some. So … if you can’t handle a little ‘color’ and some man talk language. Don’t read on. Remember 99.99999 % of those reading James Fishing report are men.

The following is from the Feb. 4th 2021 report: “I quote”

We are droppin in water level daily, and currently we are sitting at 261.12, just a shade over forty feet low.. No real water in the pipeline and where we are headed is anybody’s guess as irrigation season has begun.

We are still a long way from the record low of about 54 feet. And we will always have a place to launch to that point.. I did it for years when it was happening.. Although it has been so long I have tried to forget about it.

But this spring is going to be interesting as Amistad is currently not helping with any beneficial releases.. And my perennial suggestion that we drain Amistad has never gotten any traction..

Don’t get excited Amistad fans.. We know we are always sucking the hind tit..

We’re going on eleven years since our last fillup.. Way overdue.. I know it is going to happen.. And I hope I’m still alive and able to fish it when it does..

Because a year or two after it does it is going to get stupid.. Just like it always has.

You can’t run a Russian boar thru the top fifteen feet of what would be pool level.. The bush is thicker than that of a seventies Playboy centerfold..


It’ll take a hard man to penetrate that bush when it fills up.. But hell yeah I’m going…

Being old and decrepit has its advantages I guess.. As I got my first dose of the Whoohon virus shot this week. I have had no side effects and the only thing that hurt was ripping the band-aid off..

I think they used Gorilla glue on that motherfucker..

It surprises me to hear from a lot of folks that they will not be taking the inoculation.. I guess I can understand the skepticism, because skepticism is my middle name.

But I think in this case, if you can get it, get it..

I’ll let you know if I start acting like a cockroach or anything..

Glad to see ol Dementia Joe rolling out his plan on combating the Whoohan..

Did you miss it? Shit I did too..

Good thing Trump had all the pieces in place to get this shit headed in the right direction..

Cause so far this new administration looks like the parking lot for the clown cars.

And one more thing.. Being they have a fence around the capitol, why don’t we lock that fucker from the outside.. Keep all them loony son of a bitches locked up and let the National Guard keep them in.

What’s going on is truly a shit-show..

I see AOC took a page from the Hillary play book, telling how she was pinned down during the capitol siege.. Yeah bullshit.. Like when Hillary landed in the helicopter under fire in some shithole country..

Yeah.. That didn’t happen either..

Gonna be some interesting times ahead..

The battery is a little weak, but I think I see some light at the end of the tunnel..

So hang in there.. Keep the faith..

And tell them to take their idea of unity and shove it up their ass..

And get yours down here and catch some fish..

” End of Quote” James doesn’t have a set schedule of when he publishes his blog entries, but he writes often enough that those of us who likes what he writes and agrees with his stance on the issues of the day book mark him and check in for the latest when we can. I’m no longer in need of the fishing report from Falcon as those are days gone by for me but to know that there is still one more person beside me who politically feels, ‘well, shall we say Pissed’, then I will continue to check on his ramblings.

In this his latest blog, I agree with everything James expressed, except getting the Woohan Vaccine. In my opinion, that, they can stick up their ass.

Post Script: I miss my Friend James and even though our paths are unlikely to ever cross again I know that he will continue to keep pointing out that there is “light at the end of the tunnel.”

If so inclined, you can access James’s blog here:

Signed, Sealed, Delivered — Follow up.

I really do not know how to start this blog but I just know that I must. In the previous blog to this one I went out on a limb (something I don’t always do) and described a TV series of 11 episodes, followed by 11 movies that continued to play off the original series. The limb I went out on was to recommend anyone reading my blog, should if possible try to find the series episodes and movies, and watch them if at all possible. If you are confused at this point I invite you to read my previous blog posting, titled the same as above, and read it for clarification.

Now I can once again state in this paragraph I really do not know how to continue with this blog or even if I can exit my comfort zone of the big, sometimes ornery, usually outspoken, overly opinionated, gruff, and a zillion other descriptive adjectives that would probably fit me quite well. None of which I cherish to admit to, however that description of me has to precede the rest of this blog.

I found something in myself watching these 22 flicks that I always knew was in me, but as we tough exterior guys, prefer to hide. I don’t even know how to describe it but I must try.

Kathleen and I watched all 22 together, we could laugh together when laughing was in order, we could (maybe not right away) , compare notes about what we had just watched. Kathleen could openly cry when crying was in order, I could look away from her as we sat together on the couch watching while raising an arm to conceal the tears running down my cheeks. And —- that is how we enjoyed the TV time.

Later, I found that I could recall bits and pieces of an episode, but I desired to be sure I hadn’t missed anything, so I took to watching them over and over, and yes each time I saw the episode or movie again, I saw things I missed. I can not for some reason get enough of watching them over and over where as Kathleen lets me do my thing as she plays on her computer and ignores what I am up to.

I honestly do not know how to analyze my behavior, other than perhaps it has something to do with the crazy feelings and emotions that someone like me ( gruff, ornery, outspoken, opinionated, ) has while and after watching these brutally honest life changing episodes/movies.

The watching of these has taken place following a very confusing time in history for someone like me. Someone content with the direction of the world around me for the past four years and looking forward to that comfort to continue for perhaps the rest of the time this 76 year old (me) has left on this planet, only to have the very recent past ripped out from under with a changing of the guard, and an equally confusing time with a flu/pandemic that I preferred to call a PLANDEMIC.

Remember, I’m tough, It’s easier to be pissed, angry, willing to verbally kill, and striking out at any little thing or sentence that someone puts forth in Face Book. That to me became my refuge, my comfort place with all the hurt and hate I was experiencing.


I started to watch Signed, Sealed, Delivered ( all 22 offerings ) over and over. I found I could put all the anger, and desire to strike out, on the back burner if not for just a while but maybe even longer, if I could wrap myself around what was happening in the lives of four unlikely unique characters like, Oliver, Norman, Rita, and Shane. These four while facing the challenges of finding not only the person who wrote a long lost letter, but trying to deliver it to whom it was written to, and the twists and turns that could take along the way to those involved, but more than that, how the lives of the four became more and more interwoven as events moved forward with the challenges entrusted to them.

This became a powerful release for me. To watch them over and over and let my emotions pour out as each episode dictated. I know that some people who read my blog do not have perhaps the capability to access the 22 episodes and some who do. have no desire to seek them out and that is fine. I understand. I am just content to know what four people, their lives, and their adventures, have meant to me.

I don’t know when I will discontinue watching them over and over but one thing for sure, I know that I desire to become a more mellow person and I believe eventually that may happen.

The world can only hope so.