Even though I have been living my life away from Minnesota, for the past 40 years or so, the memories never fade.

June 4th:  An adoption.


What a kid.

What a nephew.

Car…. door…  A one word wonder.

And a smartie pants.

I was fortunate to have to babysit for this little critter, and he was the world’s greatest pretender.

Cry.  Cry. Cry.

Oh yeah?

I would give him that “look”  and he would break out in laughter.

He loved his independence.

Where you going?

To the railroad tracks.


To lay my head on the tracks and wait for the train.

What the hell?

At 4 years old, he wanted to skate.

And he did.

Oh he had his share of falls.

But he never gave it another thought.

He would get right back up and try again.

It was one of my greatest joys, watching him later, playing hockey.

A favorite?

Yes, he was.

A goof?

Of course.

He was just like me.

He had the world’s biggest smile.

A charmer.

A jokester.

A fun loving kid who always made me laugh.

I saw Peter a few years ago, at a family gathering.

He had not changed.

Still a fun loving, crazy kid.

I sat by him at dinner and found myself thinking about the past.

As I continued to live my life away from the family, a message over the internet:

Peter is ill.

Pray for him.

It’s his heart.

He is in intensive care, in an induced coma, after several open heart surgeries.

The kid with the world’s biggest heart, fighting for his life.

I know he will make it.

Just like he did when he learned how to skate.

He never gave up.

Take your time, Peter.



When you are ready, let me know, and we will get together and celebrate.

Love you!





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