by irene bean

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A Solid Foundation



Not Trying to be Corny

This Little Light of Mine

We Were Once Young

Veni, Vedi, Vinca

U Tube Has a New Star

Packing a 3-Iron

Getting Personal

Welcome Again

Well... Come on in

Christmas Shopping

There's no Substitute

Dressed for Success

Cancun Can-Can

Holy Guacamole

Life can be Crazy

The New Dog

Hurricane Reenie

He Delivers

No Spilt Milk

Naked Fingers


Have Ya Heard the One About?

The Great Caper


Barney's P***S

My New Security System


Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

My youngest is a mere twenty-one years old. During the past three years, he has had a gun pointed at him, twice. Many of you have met him, so will be horrified.

The first time was by a security guard – mistaken identity – David was arrested and tossed into jail with several friends. Totally wrong, and he knew it. David, knowing his constitutional rights, pitched a fit. He got majorly riled, and heads rolled as a result. The security guard was fired because of bad form. Bravo, Dave! (He’s had constitutional law nailed since Junior High.) All charges were dropped.

The second incident is so very chilling, I have had trouble trying to post about it.

After our Caribbean cruise, there were hugs and farewells. His itinerary included time with his father, as well as some time with friends in Ft. Lauderdale – with college buddies. With his frat friends, there was an evening of ‘frivolity.” I must add here that at a High School awards ceremony, David was given $300 for abstaining from drugs and alcohol. He’s entitled now – the alcohol, that is.

I have so many fond memories of Ft. Lauderdale because my grandparents retired there and I spent a lot of time with them. I no longer like Ft. Lauderdale.

The night in question, my son and his friends did some clubbing. Okay, a lot of clubbing. At some point, my son decided to call it a night – separated from his friends. He hailed a cab. He readily admits he was a bit tanked. The cabdriver that responded to his beckon, had loitered all night – waiting for a solo fare. His car was camouflaged to look like a cab – it was all bogus. There have been publicized accounts of murders in similar scenarios. David got in, gave his destination, and then proceeded to chat with his buddies on his cell phone. Ten miles deep into fucking East Egypt (excuse my French, and I don’t know why the French are constantly blamed for my cuss words), the driver pulled over and demanded my son’s money, cell phone, and credit cards, which btw had his photo ID.

*choke* *sob*

David is now legendary on Cornell campus, because of his initial response, “Ya gotta be kidding me?” The driver drew a gun in my son’s face. He wasn’t kidding.

At that point, David complied. He gave the driver everything he wanted – even the credit cards with his photo ID. Big *duh* here.

David walked ten miles in sandals, until her reached a 24-hour Walgreens. His feet were bleeding. Yet, he was *ALIVE*. Remember, my son had seen this thug’s face – it’s a miracle he’s still alive! It’s a blessed miracle. When David gave the police report, they also stated it was a miracle he was still alive. Now, how scary is that?


The cards and cell phone were immediately cancelled – no damage. Well, except for the emotional toll.

What’s wrong with people?

[BTW, I beg that this post not become a forum for anti-gun laws.]

I divorced David’s father many years ago, but still find his humor delightful – well, most of the time. In his imitable manner, he brought laughter to this near-tragic event. Several days ago he called David. This is sorta how the disguised conversation went. [Of note, David determined that the cabdriver was Haitian] “Daveed? This is Jean-Reynald-Doc. Reemember, I pointed a guun in your face? I need the peen number for your credit card…”

Even I laughed.


The other night, David and I rejoiced that “Little Miss Sunshine” received some notable nods for the Oscar Awards. We saw it together over Christmas, prior to the cruise. It is an AMAZING movie, which you all should watch. We all are such a bunch of benevolent wingnuts, and so are the characters of this very fine Indy film. I could watch it a zillion times – it’s close to unseating my favorite movie, “Groundhog Day.”

David emailed me his favorite line:

“…and to think that I am the number one Proust scholar in the world and I am pushing a bus.”

I *beg* all of you to see it and report back to me.

…and to celebrate my son’s splendid life.

This has been very difficult to post.


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