When My great, great, great, great, great grandfather, James Connally immigrated from Dublin, Ireland to Virginia in the 1670's, it was customary to return to Europe to have children....Thomas Connally, when his wife Anne Mayfield conceived James, took the long voyage to London that their offspring might have a greater opportunity to survive.....Upon his return to Virginia, he grew ill and, at 49 died. Interestingly enough, his Father who died in his late 80's outlived 3 wives, who bore him 28 children!
Out of the Cradle.....Endlessly rocking......Where does the idealism of Youth go? I just re-read the novel....then, remembering the 1981 film adaptation with Jeremy Irons......I fell into nostalgic meanderings through emotional memories......As I fall toward my 70's, which will be here in a flash, with the diminishment of expectation and the resolution of misspent time, I am left alone with my musings on the would-have-beens and wish-it-weres, to contemplate...as millions have done before me....the trajectories of Fate, Happenstance, Coincidence and Will...the place that I am, my scorn of mediocrity, my thirst for Platonic Truth and my conciliatory acceptance of amphilogistic seques along the coursing to Oblivion. Where does the Time go? I feel that I have journeyed deep into the labyrinth of this continuum, into an impenetrable forest of expectations, anticipations and utopian hopes; but, as the strength of youth begins to fail, I must fall on the path, imagining the spirits of the dead before me, still beckoning, as I stumble forward of my last footsteps.....
pragmatic sensualist, motivated by really deep instincts, actualized by willful imaginings and perpetuated by other's desires. Abstract, yet clear in purpose, honest, but abstruse, my moods change like winds and water with my confidences, and when ungrounded, i am both guarded and vulnerable, leaning, in darkness, to the Light, nurtured by instinctual feelings arising from a deep gene pool.
