“My Baby Boy Winston”

I don’t always update seeing Mama, but this morning was too special for me not to update you.

Things started per usual but when I turned to fetch a wheel chair, a new staff person, Debbie, was approaching me. She asked, “Are you Winston?” I of course said, “Yes I am.” Longer story shorter, she proceeds to tell me that over the week since she has been at OPC, on numerous occasions, whilst Mama is holding that baby doll I don’t care for, she would tell Debbie, “This is my baby boy Winston.” I said, “You’re shittin’ me!” She not only stood by it, but reiterated it and says she hears it a lot. Well, I most closely went to cryin, but was able to stall ’til my manly bona fides kicked in.

After all that, Mama stayed alert the entire visit and seemed to follow my accounting of the Trump Presidency with some interest. She seemed not to be troubled by the accounting, though it was told with a fair amount of trepidation.

Hope all is well with you. We are fine.

Wint

P.S. I just finished rereading “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn”, resulting in some huckleberryish affecting in my speech and writing.

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