Kona Coffee

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My youngest brother has always been a photography enthusiast. He's studied it and used it and put it in the pan. He collects family pictures and puts them in CDs and gives them to relatives as gifts. My older sister plays around with genealogy, so they're quite a pair. Aquarians, the both of them. I don't remember having seen the photo he digitized. When he sent me a copy of it a couple of days ago I had to look twice to recognize the background.

The torpedo tubes behind me in this photograph were used in World War Two. I was transferred to this ship called the USS Twining for my first assignment in the Navy. It was only after a year in the deck force scraping rust, painting, and mopping decks that I got into the ship's Torpedo crew. I was the only one with high enough scores to attend the school. It was the best piece of luck I'd had since I joined the Navy.

The only work I had to do on the ship after I became a torpedoman was to mop the small deck around the torpedo tubes, and polish the brass. There were three of us to do that. After I got in the torpedo gang I didn't really do that much work, but I stood a lotta bridge watches out at sea, and drank a ton of premium kona coffee.

I was amazed to find out later that the Navy only bought the highest grade of coffee grown. Growing up in my parents home drinking coffee was verboten. I might have had fewer than five cups of coffee in my life until I joined the Navy, but I got addicted to the very best coffee there was/is, but no mas. The Folger's Black Silk coffee I buy is pretty good for the price though.

My daughter sent one of those family Christmas cards that has all three of them in pictures. It's a little sad for me to get these things in the mail knowing I'll never spend any time with my grandchildren. I was angry when my second wife took our children and headed to California with them, but since I saw them in Seattle I realize I got used and abused by somebody who claimed to love me, but didn't know what I think love is. No blame.

This new prescription drug has a powerful affect on me. I can feel it roaming around doing what it does. It reminds me that the "rheuma" part of rheumatoid means "to move" or "roam". The disease moves, the drug chases it. My body is their playground.

My hands and fingers still work okay. By that I mean that they still do what I tell them when I write or play the scales on my digital piano, but they feel weak. That may have something to do with the swelling in my fingers going down somewhat. That may be the "miracle" part of this medicine.

It amazes me that I'm taking shots that cost $1000 each every two weeks. Well, I've given myself one so far. The next one is due on New Year's Day. That's three times plus as much as I get from Social Security each month. What a life... eh?

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