A little bit more about me. I am married to a beautiful Irish lass named Colleen. Her family is very Irish. Her father’s name was Patrick Terrance Timothy Michael John O’Callaghan. He was a big guy with a big smile but as a former heavyweight Golden Glove boxer he could knock you out with either hand. When he was dying of cancer his entire family would often show up and circle his bed and sing songs or do little dances, trying to bring him out for one more round. I wrote something about Pat’s passing which I will share later.
Back to my life. My wife and I live in a quiet community, surrounded by trees not far from a big city. My daughter Katie and her five year old son Alex, lives with us for the time being. She’s a single mom, both beautiful and smart. She also does mud racing, over obstacles and crawling through, well mud. It takes a great deal of endurance to run five miles or so and climb ropes, and walls, flip over huge tires or carry them up hills then jump in a dumpster full of ice or low crawl under electric wires. I like it when she blows by some of the stud-ly looking men who fade in the last mile home.
My son Jake lives with his girl friend Shelby in a high rise in the city. He’s finally a senior in college and should be graduating after next term. And my other much older daughter Jenny, lives in another city close by. She lives a very quiet life. She goes out with her bo on Saturdays and they go to church on Sunday. Jenny was born when I was fighting in the jungles of Vietnam. A notice came by radio from the red cross in the darkest night I can remember. I felt so strange being there in the filth and death and dying, while half way around the world my little baby was being born in a clean white hospital. I was still 18.