I was conceived as the year turned to 1967...a very fortuitous happenstance in all actuality. I came on the scene the same year that the Great Jimi Hendrix did. I was a newborn in the flesh while the United States was at the height of the Hippie movement. And by the way, they had it right - or rather, correct. My formitive years were spent in a blissful coexistence with a beautiful Mother, a strikingly handsome Daddy, a tough-as nails older brother, and a cynical, and seemingly God-awful hateful jealous older sister who I still looked up to. I heard all the awesome music that permeated the time; I felt the earth beneath my achy feet; I was diagnosed with a yet un-curable disease; I saw the moon landing in black and white (little memory snippet); I absorbed everything I could. My world shattered in 1976 when a new word came into my vocabulary. DEAD. My hard-working, loyal, loving, no-nonsense, highly admired (home and community), had breathed his last. And that is when I changed. For better. For worse. I became who God meant for me to be by being IN the situation I was. And I thank HIM for it all.
Georgia