There Will Be Bread

Our esteemed blogger friend Fran has started a new blog and by the looks of her first post or so, you are not going to want to miss this at all.

I think that one of the reasons I had to start a new blog is this... I had to start to tell the truth. My lies were not so blatant. They were more sins of omission, than blatant lies.

Not that that makes it any better. No, I'm not donning the hairshirt, I am just telling the truth.

The hard part will be this... When I start telling the truth, all sorts of people may be turned off or offended. I have come to the conclusion however, that while I don't want to offend, I also don't want to compromise.

My being alive is pretty unlikely... Yet here I am. I have come to a point in my life where I think I better start telling my story. Which is an unlikely story.

My mother was 43 when I was born. My father was 37. They were an unlikely pair (can you tell that unlikely was in the running for blog title?) to be sure.

I am not trying to make this worse nor am I trying to sugarcoat this, so I will just tell it as I have come to understand this unlikely puzzle of my life.

In any case, my mother drank. A lot. A real lot. And smoked, very smokey. She was also not focused on nutrition. As one who came of age during the depression, she did not have the luxury of choosing good food. I also believe that she was lactose intolerant, something that was yet undefined.

My father was... well it is much harder to describe him. He was someone of enormous personal power and sadly that often came out in anger and violence. The targets of his anger and violence were typically women and children.

Ok you got my attention now Fran! I hope I can dare to be as self-revelatory as Fran is here.

So check it out at http://breadhere.blogspot.com/