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["Marie McHarry" <mmcharry AT gmail.com>]

served in the 19th century, was in the Philippines and Central
America, and retired eventually to become a critic of American
imperialism? He was particularly appalled at fighting for US banana
companies, particularly I believe, US Fruit. He may have reached the
rank of captain in the Army (or he might have been in the Marines, but
I think he was Army but OTOH the Marines were the main troops invading
Nicaragua, Guatemala, etc.).

The brain cells where I stored other details -- his name, for instance
-- are evidently history.

This, of course, has nothing to do with homesteading, but it's making
my skin itch. At one time I knew this guy's name, and his story was
amazing. A few years ago, I would have remembered where I read about
him, but alas, now I don't.

Oh, and by the way, May has been a less than great month for me. My
mother died suddenly and unexpectedly -- if you can call the death of
an 88-year-old woman unexpected -- with only about half her garden in.
She was doing very well with her knee replacement (surgery in January)
and working hard on the therapy because she was hell-bent on gardening
this summer.

The good part is that she had a massive bleed in her brain, so she was
dead for all meaningful purposes before the paramedics reached her.

I added a bit of drama by having a serious wreck on the way to Havana,
but Gloria (of this list) came through and picked me off the road and
took me to Havana (and later drove out to the farm to make sure that
the stove was off when the paramedics wondered if the stove was off
because Mom had just made a cup of tea).

The paramedics who came to rescue me were somewhat irritated that I
refused their services. Yeah, the car was a mess, but I crawled out
with a few bruises, and later the ER doc in Havana checked me out and
declared me sound.

Let me tell you, I miss my Mama. We talked regularly on the phone, and
I got over there as often as I could. Friends have told me that they
still try to call their mothers before they realize they can't after
7, 17, and even more years. My sisters and I got together Saturday at
Mom's farm. That wasn't so bad, but driving by the cemetery where
she's buried was.

If it wasn't for my animals, particularly the dogs, I would have been
disappointed that I survived the accident, but I did, so here I am.
With my genetics, I'm likely to live for another 30 or 40 years. Mom's
bleed was probably a result of inflammation caused by an autoimmune
disease. I don't have that.

On the other hand, I suppose I could quit using seatbelts....

Nah. I'd just end up crippled or something.

Marie