Dear Thomas McKelvey Cleaver, There have been hours during this never ending turbulence in America when I wished you would popup with a piece. Eyes and heart brighten when one of your bold headlines sparks my new mail. This Birthday email to you comes with appreciation for your presence in my life, for your pluck, well considered pat…
Dear Thomas McKelvey Cleaver, There have been hours during this never ending turbulence in America when I wished you would popup with a piece. Eyes and heart brighten when one of your bold headlines sparks my new mail. This Birthday email to you comes with appreciation for your presence in my life, for your pluck, well considered patriotism and care of your flock. Happy Birthday Tom. To all your coming flights of mind and heart. Cheers! Fern
Well, given the results I got last week from my annual physical - blood glucose 80, cholesterol 155, PSA 0.95 (down from 7.0 when I began treatment 15 years ago), BP 120/70 and weight within 5 pounds of what I was at 18 - coupled with the fact that I didn't get mauled by a bear like my sixth great grandfather or stick a lump of uranium in my workpants pocket for six weeks like my father did, it appears likely I will conform to the other six generations of Cleaver male history and hang around into my 90s with "all systems go." So, there's no getting rid of me anytime soon. :-)
Dear Thomas McKelvey Cleaver, There have been hours during this never ending turbulence in America when I wished you would popup with a piece. Eyes and heart brighten when one of your bold headlines sparks my new mail. This Birthday email to you comes with appreciation for your presence in my life, for your pluck, well considered patriotism and care of your flock. Happy Birthday Tom. To all your coming flights of mind and heart. Cheers! Fern
Well, given the results I got last week from my annual physical - blood glucose 80, cholesterol 155, PSA 0.95 (down from 7.0 when I began treatment 15 years ago), BP 120/70 and weight within 5 pounds of what I was at 18 - coupled with the fact that I didn't get mauled by a bear like my sixth great grandfather or stick a lump of uranium in my workpants pocket for six weeks like my father did, it appears likely I will conform to the other six generations of Cleaver male history and hang around into my 90s with "all systems go." So, there's no getting rid of me anytime soon. :-)