Tonight, I started to write about betting. But I got terribly sidetracked trying to look up a fact on Ancestry.
Earlier in the evening, someone said, “You can bet on it.” And I thought about my Grandpa Wehrman, who taught me at an early age how to gamble with the best of them. He was a master of Poker and Black Jack. And. I made for a good student. Of course, I was probably 5 or 6 years old. We used to situate ourselves around their dining room table. I would belly-up to the table by kneeling atop one of the dining room chairs. Then, Grandpa Wehrman would enlighten me on the finer aspects of playing “21.” But the real fun of it was wearing one of his dark colored felted hats, drinking 7-Up out of short glasses with no ice, and clutching an unlit cigar in my little fist. Cards in one hand, a stogie in the other. Five years old, and living large. I call you. Two pair. Aces high.
I’ll write more tomorrow, God willing, and the creek don’t rise. You can bet on it.
“The past beats inside me like a second heart.”
― John Banville, The Sea
“Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.”
― L.M. Montgomery, The Story Girl
“What i like about photographs is that they capture a moment that’s gone forever, impossible to reproduce.”
― Karl Lagerfeld