In the spirit of Rod Serling, let me point out…
That there is a dimension between ignorance and knowledge that has long ago been dismissed and forgotten. A place in our gut where intuition and wisdom meet. No, this dimension is NOT the Twilight Zone. On the contrary, it is a very real place within us all, where the Original Instructions for living LIFE well resides. It flourishes best with a healthy mind, an emotionally sound heart, a well-functioning body and a bright spirit. Once activated, this collective energy radiates an undeniably magnetic force of beauty and attraction called: HOLISTIC GOOD HEALTH!
What does it mean to have “HOLISTIC GOOD HEALTH”?
Well….
Thousands of years ago, a wise old Sage named Sun Tzu once told a story of an Emperor who needed some medical attention and gathered his most informed advisors of the Royal Court to enquire about who the best doctor in the Empire was. After all, the Emperor goes to see only the BEST.
The Advisors returned to the Ruler and they all agreed that it was this one particular Healer who was very well known and quite successful. So, the Emperor set out to go pay this Doctor a visit.
Upon arrival at his house, the Emperor notices that everyone in the house was in the Healing Professions. “What GREAT LUCK!” He thought, “I have so many to choose from!” He asked the famous Healer, “Tell me, which one of you is the very best?”
“Well…” replies the Doctor, “My next oldest brother can detect the spirit of the illness shortly after it enters into the body and he vanquishes it quickly lest his name gets out into the community. However, the oldest brother of us all, can detect the spirit of the illness before it even begins its entry into the body. He vanquishes that quickly before it even starts, lest his name get out amongst the rest of the family. Me? Well… I do my best as I administer lotions and prescribe my potions to practice my craft as best as I can and sometimes it happens that my name finds its way out of the community and into the houses of Royalty.”
One of the morals of the story then, are that the very BEST of the best are so good because they set the “high beams” of their proverbial “headlights” so far down the road of life with such sensitivity that they can detect the slightest possible problems on the horizon with spooky, almost Shamanic-like clairvoyance, noticing and discerning issues before they even manifest and with great humbleness and efficiency, take care of business and dispatch a remedy long before trouble arrives making life so much easier for everyone.
Centuries later, a very different Sage of different era… a wise teacher, who told a class of young students studying alternative medicine that there are many ways to breathe.
He told a lesson of being very observant and to watch closely to notice how people breathe and by that, he said, “You will know how healthy they are. It’s usually quite subtle, but very informative.”
He said that unhealthy people usually breathe only with their shoulders. Only their shoulders move as air is exchanged and not much else. The rest of their body is not engaged as if it were frozen.
He said that average people breathed with their shoulders and chest, both moving in concert. Slightly more engaged, but a good part of the rest of their body still not available for any help in aspiration.
He continued to say that if you watch closely, you will notice that the healthiest people breathe not only with their shoulders and chest but also with their belly, making their entire torso available to help the lungs do their job so much easier and effortlessly.
Then he spoke to his students of something that they’d never heard before. He told them that enlightened people breathe not only with their shoulders, chest and belly…. but also, with their FEET!!!
That stopped them all in their tracks.
How in the hell does somebody
BREATHE WITH THEIR FEET?
Photo by Keeva Szeto on Unsplash
Could this be a clue on how the Eldest Brother (in Sun Tzu’s story) got to be so wise? Hmmmm…. (What do YOU think?)
It is the intention with this book to share some wisdom and encourage you to become like the Eldest Brother in Sun Tzu’s story so that you too may become the healthiest version of yourself that you can be… for yourself, your family, your community and the world by learning how to breathe with your feet!
I invite you to follow me down the rabbit-hole on an adventure of self-discovery (by meandering throughout this memoir) to understand how this wisdom arrived and of what value it is to this planet at this time.
Hopefully at the very least, reading this will help to change your life for the better and at the most optimal, set a course to help change the world for the BEST.
Here to take you on this circuitous, meandering journey throughout this writing is a peculiar person….
MEET OUR NARRATOR
Photo by yinney on Freeimages.com
Greetings, Curious One.
Welcome to the realm of what has been and the story of what may be. You may be wondering about who I am and by what authority that I may speak of such events told within this writing here.
I am the One who witnesses. I am the eyes and the ears that see and hear what has happened and the direction of things to come. I have been on these well-trodden, dusty paths since time immemorial and I have observed much.
I go by many names. Those sensitive enough to be aware, may refer to me as “The Watcher”. I have other names as well. But that’s not important. Your arrival to this page signals to me that you’re curious and you perhaps may wish to know more about how someone might “BREATHE” WITH THEIR FEET?
I must caution you…. Beware the path of growth and evolution and what’s in these following pages for you. A mind once opened and enlightened, much like a bird released from its gilded cage, are forever changed and may never again return from whence they came!
Because of this story that we are observing the telling of, I now have a voice of connection to you, Dear Reader and I invite you to just suspend judgement and follow my lead to READ…. WATCH…. LISTEN closely…. and FEEL deeply until the end of this tale.
You may also notice that what will follow here might seem like a bit like Russian nesting dolls as this story nests within a story that possibly may mirror parts of your own personal story as it unfolds….
So, I invite you to settle in for a journey of some back story, history, revelations of insights, illuminations, epiphanies, curiosities and possibly self-discoveries (perhaps for yourself or others that you know) as we follow the path of this One who writes about many things including the tale of four very different young men who learn how to find their way home after many, many millennium.
This One whom we will observe that calls me his “Guardian Angel”. I’m OK with that.
Let’s look in now on this One who begins to write….
A DILEMMA
of possible
CULTURAL
APPROPRIATION
“The day will come when, after harnessing the ether, the winds, the tides, gravitation, we shall harness for God the energies of LOVE! And, on that day, for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered FIRE!”
~ Pierre Teilhard De Chardin
Photo by DeanPaul on Freeimages.com
Hello, Writer!
Oh… Hello, Guardian Angel
I see that you’ve been busy writing again. Hmmmm…. That’s a pretty good quote you found there from De Chardin.
Thanks.
You’re welcome. So, what are you so glum about?
A few years ago, I realized what my mission on this planet is.
GREAT! What is it?
“I am the Emissary that delivers to people what feeds their Souls.”
WOW! Good Mission! So, what’s the problem with that?
Well, you know how many different names there are of the generous, old, white-bearded man you might see at the end of the year around Christmastime: Santa Claus… Kris Kringle… Father Christmas… Papa Noel… St. Nick… Jolly old Elf… Prometheus…
Wait…. Say WHAT??? Did you say “Prometheus”?
Uh, yeah. You know, since my beard has grown out and began getting so white, that different folks have begun calling me Santa for a while now?
OK. So, what does Santa have to do with an Ancient Greek God?
Well, in Greek mythology, Prometheus (whose name means: “forethought”) is a powerfully, clever trickster and the Titan God of fire. He is best known for stealing fire from the other Gods and sharing that with humanity whom he is credited with creating out of clay. Because of his theft, he was captured and sentenced to be chained and eternally tormented.
But, before he was captured and punished for stealing fire and giving it to humans, he behaved as a generous soul by giving gifts (just like ST. Nick) and sharing some goodness (like fire) with humanity.
So, what if Prometheus had stolen fire from the Gods today?
Would he be recognized as sharing the energies of compassion and LOVE with humanity like Teilhard De Chardin talks about, or would he be scorned, shamed, ridiculed, perhaps “cancelled” or maybe put on trial to be punished for a crime like “Cultural Appropriation” because the Gods claimed fire as theirs exclusively?
What if I were something of a modern-everyday-common-person (instead of a Greek God) but behaved just like Prometheus as I shared with the common public something like the “original instructions” that were a way to live harmoniously with each other in the natural world that some people claimed exclusively as culturally their own and nobody else’s? What would you do? Would you accept the gift of my offering of good health and healthy relations with all (that I would gladly share with you), or would you criticize and condemn me for following my life’s mission of delivering to people what feeds their souls and wishing to help make this world a more holistically, healthier place for EVERYONE…. even as some folks claim that what I’m sharing as theirs ONLY?
I see. You pose an ethical question. How do you plan to resolve THAT?
Well… I guess my Dear Readers get to decide that for themselves.
Ya know, there is a story among Northwest American First Nations about how Raven became black.
Really? How’s it go?
Well…. there’s a lot of variations to this West Coast story, but here’s the version that I know because it was told to me by a Tlingit man named Preston Singletary.
As this story goes, the Raven was originally WHITE.
Really?
Oh, yeah. This all happened in the very early years of this planet when everything was really dark and there was no light to be had anywhere. Besides being white, Raven was also a great trickster and a talented shapeshifter.
So, as he was traveling around the planet, Raven found that there was this Old Man who was very rich and owned three legendary boxes that contained the stars, the moon, and the sun; Raven wants these for himself. Various reasons are given why Raven wants light; such as wanting to admire himself in the light, wanting all living creatures to admire his works, or maybe wanting light to find food more easily.
So, one day, Raven transforms himself into a hemlock needle and drops into the water cup of the Old Man’s daughter while she was out picking berries. As she drinks the water, she then becomes pregnant with him as a baby boy. The Old Man dotes over his new grandson as is won’t have most Tlingkit grandparents.
Raven cries incessantly until the Old Man gives him a box of Stars to pacify him. Raven plays with it for a while, then opens the ld and lets the stars escape through the house’s smoke hole (chimney) into the sky.
Raven then begins crying for the box of the Moon, and after much fuss, finally the Old Man gives it to him but not before plugging up the smoke hole in the house. Raven plays with it for awhile and rolls it out the door, where it escapes into the sky.
Finally, Raven begins to cry for the box of the Sun, and after much fuss, the Old Man breaks down and gives it to him. Raven knows that he cannot roll it out the door or toss it up the smoke hole because he is carefully watched. So, he waits until everyone is asleep and then changes back into his bird form. He then opens the box and grasps the sun in his beak, takes it out to show others who do not believe that he has the Sun. Then he flies up and breaks out of the plugged-up smoke hole of the house and into the sky where it’s been ever since. The Sun was so hot and bright that Raven got scorched and turned black while carrying the Sun up into the sky. That’s how come Raven is black still to this day.
Huh. So, Raven did a Prometheus thing, eh?
Yeah, but just like Prometheus, there were consequences to his actions and he had to pay a price.
Well, OK then. Since I know that you’ll be witnessing whatever will happen to me, I guess I’ll get prepared for the worst.
Good Luck!
Thanks.
A STORY of BECOMING RELEVANT
Photo by dsidwell on Freeimages.com
A Therapist asks a client: “Do you know the difference between shit and manure?
Client: “Ummm, I dunno. They’re spelled different?”
Therapist: “Besides that…. Shit is what comes directly out of the back end of the cow. Manure is what happens to that shit after a long period of time where folks will till it over and allow the bacteria, bugs and worms to do their work and compost that excrement into something very useful that farmers and gardeners will pay lots of good money for. You know, the moral here is that NOBODY wants your stinky, shit! But if you apply yourself well and work like those worms, bacteria and bugs to transform your shit into something beneficial and useful like the wisdom of life’s lessons learned well, you will eventually end up with a very valuable commodity! Remember…. From the most repugnant shit that is eventually well composted into the best manure, comes the most beautiful and most productive flowers and plants of the garden!”
NARRATOR’S OBSERVATIONS:
It is said that “We do not see the world as it is, but as WE ARE” on the premise that we can never completely know another without engaging with the inner lens of ourselves as a tool with which to see, compare and attempt to comprehend. While this may be useful, it’s never entirely accurate since we never really know the lived experience of another one as THEY know it to be.
Oh, look at what’s showing up on the page NOW…. Apparently our Author has turned back some many pages of history to look in on some relatives….
THE BEAUTIFUL SEEDS OF CHANGE
BEGAN WITH MAMA ROSA’S STORY
German Family in February, 1943. Photo: Wikipedia Commons
On this particular night, all was quiet in this small, German farming community. Suddenly, a flashlight stabbed through the darkness. A teenaged girl’s face startled awake. “Raus mit dir!!!” (Out with you!) Shouted a heavily accented soldier’s voice. The Russian conscript did his best with the unfamiliar German language. “Steh auf und geh jetzt!” (Get up and LEAVE NOW!). Rosa sat up in her bed and sleepily rubbed her eyes awake. “Mama?” she called out. “Mama, was ist los?” (Mama what’s happening?) “Steh auf, Rosa.” (Get up, Rosa) Maria told her daughter. “Du auch, Regina.” (You too, Regina) She told the older sister sleeping in the same bed. “Die Russischen Soldaten sind hier. Wir müssen jetzt gehen.” (The Russian Soldiers are here. We have to go now.) Another voice familiar to Rosa pierced the darkness. “Komm schon, Mädels schnapp dir ein paar Klamotten. Lass uns gehen. Mach schnell.” (Come on, girls just grab some clothes. Let’s go. Make it quick!).
Her older brother Alois was already dressed and helping his mother grab some bread and scraps of leftover food from the previous night’s meal and sneak it into their clothing so the Russian soldier wouldn’t know. Outside, the predawn light was just leaking into the night sky from the cloudy, cold eastern horizon. Along with the rumble of tanks and other vehicles along the muddy road engulfed the usually peacefully quiet, early morning. A distant rooster crowed. The usual sound of birds awakening in the morning was curiously absent today. Instead, the sound of many boots marching along with loud commands and orders being shouted in the distance added to the usual sound of animals stirring in their morning awakening. Inside the tiny farm house, the girls both scrambled with their socks and shoes.
Confusion had given away to panic. The familiar morning grunt of the family pig in the pen next to the house reminded all inside that it was feeding time. From outside, a shot rang out as a shared rag doll fell off the bed onto the floor. Both girls screamed and ran to the window. “Rolf!” They called in unison to their pet pig. In the gathering predawn light, they saw a bloody, now dead Rolf being dragged away by two Russian soldiers. It was feeding time for someone else this morning… not for Rolf.
As the family of three siblings and their mother trudged down the road, with little more than the clothes on their back, Rosa asked her mom, “Mama, Wohin gehen wir?” (Mama, where are we going?). With tears streaming down the old woman’s face, she replied, “Frag nicht.” (Don’t ask.) Several more shots rang out near the old farmhouse now in the distance behind them. The once many pets and farm animals they’d just left behind were now silent. Rosa looked at their neighbor’s barn that were just passing by to see in her horror what was left of that neighbor now whose body was stripped of clothes and had been crucified, nailed in a spread-eagle form to the old barn door as laughing Russian soldiers splashed buckets of water on what remained of his limp body left to freeze in the freezing winter air. “Schau nicht zurück, bleib in Bewegung!!!” (Don’t look back! Keep moving!). hissed her mother sternly. What was left of the Albrecht family was now on the move.
Maria had hoped it wouldn’t come to such savagery. Adolf Hitler had been promising for quite some time now to unite all the German people for the past few years as he’d risen to power. The Sudetenland where they lived was going to at last be given legitimacy by expanding Bavarian borders and their Czech and Slavic neighbors would no longer argue with them about who was best to be in charge. Clearly, it was going to be Hitler… or at least the German-speaking people thought so, when it happened that way in 1938. But, things looked very different now with the Russians taking control of their tiny village.
It was the mid-winter of 1944 and Hitler was badly losing the war. The advancing Red Army was evacuating millions of German-speaking people from all of central and eastern Europe, including those of the tiny town of Erdberg (in the district of Znaim, today of the Czech Republic, formerly the CSR, and before that, Bavaria) where Rosa and her family lived in the Sudetenland. This territory east of the German city of Munich in Bavaria, was called such because of its vicinity of the Sudeten Mountain ranges.
The Sudetenland, which had a predominately German population, was incorporated into Czechoslovakia when that new nation’s frontiers were drawn in 1918–19. The Sudeten and other Germans in Czechoslovakia numbered about 3,000,000 in the interwar period in between WWI and WWII. Because of its German majority, the Sudetenland later became a major source of contention between Germany and Czechoslovakia, and in 1938 participants at the Munich Conference, yielding to Adolf Hitler, transferred it to Germany and expanding the German province of Bavaria to include the contentious territory of the Sudetenland, thereby returning the German-speaking population back to what was seen by them as their fatherland.
Church of Saints Peter and Paul from 1761 – 1764 Hradek, Znojmo District, Czech Republic. Photo by: Palickap
The ancient town of Erdberg, which dates back to the year 1046 AD, was called such because that name in German translates to mean, “Earthen Ramparts”. That was because this fertile river valley surrounded by the nearby Sudeten Mountain ranges naturally protects the farming population living there and their food production. Today, that town which had returned to Czechoslovakia (after WWII) is now called, “Hradek” of the Znojmo District. Yes, its’ Czech name also translates as, “earthen ramparts”.
Rosa had a unique understanding about such geographic details and world politics. The Nazis who ruled the Government of that day controlled all things legal which included formal education in schools. That’s how it was during the fifth grade for Rosa. That’s as far as she’d gotten in her formal schooling. After Papa died in a farming accident some time previous, she was needed at home to help take care of the house as schooling went by the wayside. Life was different then. But that was then.
Now they were displaced people. Refugees looking for somewhere safe to go… at least for the night until they could make some better plans or find some help from somewhere. The following decade was pretty rough for the family, having no place to go to or call home. As the years progressed after leaving the only home they’d ever known, Rosa and her siblings were forced to grow up very quickly amid the bloody horrors and atrocities of war. The devastating aftermath of much destruction during the war was horrific. The many traumatic stories of pain and suffering that they all endured were not for polite table conversations, nor comforting bedtime stories. Like many victims of war, there are some things too awful to relive by talking about them. Mental health was not really a “thing” back in those times as it is today. Like deep wounds, the remembrances of those unspeakable tragedies were scabbed over and buried in the inner graveyard of memories too painful to ever dig up, examine and re-tell. So, silence became a friend like a protective guard at the gate of their inner boneyard.
However, there was a story that Rosa told once many, many years later after not being able to accept a Mother’s Day honor. “Mother’s Day is hard for me.” She said to her only son. “I buried my mother with my own hands on a cold Mother’s Day by heaping rocks upon her body because the ground was too hard to dig in. Besides, there was no shovel available anyway. My brother got into an argument with my mom one day. His anger was so great that he pushed her and told her to “Go to Hell!”. Mom fell over backwards, hit her head really hard, went into a coma and eventually died.”
Rosa was never able to forgive her brother as long as she was alive. After all, he not only had killed her (unintentionally, of course) but he also damned her to an afterlife in Hell. As a devout Roman Catholic, she knew that you should never disobey one of God’s ten Commandments by cursing your parents…. EVER!
The next several years were pretty rough. Frequently on the move from place to place. That’s what you do when you have no home, you know. Stability is a luxury afforded to those who are fortunate enough to be better resourced.
Regina eventually found her way to the United States as a field hand to work at Seabrook Farms of the New Jersey countryside that sold their produce to a company called Birdseye Frozen Foods. This company was famous in the 1950’s for their packaged frozen foods much of which supplied Swanson’s who made complete meals in foil containers that were then called “T.V. Dinners”.
photo by EbayThis popular invention was packaged as complete meals often to be heated quickly in an oven after a long day’s work and consumed as dinner by American families while watching their favorite television shows in the evenings as a timesaving measure as opposed to the time consuming practice of preparing homemade meals from scratch. Hence, “T.V. Dinners”. This was only one of many conveniences of the times that helped to encourage women to join the work force and earn money instead of staying at home as a housewife.
Rosa corresponded with her sister in the U.S. to see how she’d fared with her new venture. Regina, now gainfully employed, encouraged and eventually sponsored her sister Rosa to come and join her in this land of opportunity. The Catholic Relief Services came to the rescue and helped to arrange a new life for Rosa…. but for a price.
Traveling and Immigrating to another country is not free. With the help of the C.R.S., a loan was secured. Contracts and promissory notes were signed. Money had to be borrowed for fees to pay for paperwork such as applications, passports, medical exams, travel expenses, etc. Rosa was now in debt and had to work her way out of it in a new country were she knew nothing of the people, customs, culture nor language. Life had just gotten a bit more tougher.
The month was February, early in 1957 when the steamship “S.S. General Taylor” was boarded in Bremerhaven, Germany en route for New York City. Shortly after her arrival, Rosa needed a physical exam to be cleared to go to work for her new employer. Imagine her shock when her new boss told her that she was NOT qualified to go to work for them because the most recent physical exam revealed that SHE WAS PREGNANT! (OOOPS!) Life had suddenly just gotten waaay more complicated!
Regina was equally shocked. Relationships cooled, so much so that the distance between them grew farther and farther apart. As time went on, and the sisters each went their own different directions, it was sadly, never to see one another again.
“Oh, NOOO!!!!” The horror and unspeakable embarrassment of it all! For a poor Catholic woman to be pregnant out of wedlock at that era was almost like a death sentence! Never mind the unspeakable sin of bearing a child without a husband and without having a family to help you. A woman of that era was almost less than human without a man. How could you possibly earn a living without a man to provide for you or any family members to assist you, with childcare and housekeeping? Survival challenges were quite imminent as they often can be when you live close to the edge. Trapped with a debt to pay and no way to pay it in a foreign country without any help, and no health insurance for neonatal care is a recipe for potentially extreme disaster for anyone. An abortion (even if it was affordable or available) besides being dangerous, was totally out of the question. Bad enough being pregnant out of wedlock, but to kill a fetus with an abortion, would compound one’s sins with the church exponentially to certainly be condemned to rot in hell FOREVER!
The only option left to do, would be to gather enough money together anyway possible, as fast as possible to pay for a return ticket back to Germany (where national healthcare was free) and give birth there in the secret obscurity of a tourist town where nobody knew you in order to be able to save face and avoid embarrassment, shame and ridicule.
So that’s how young Walter ended up being born on the 8th of October, 1957 in the tourist town of Herrsching, am Ammersee, which is a municipality in Upper Bavaria, Germany, on the eastern shore of the Ammersee, southwest of Munich.
Kurparkschlösschen, Herrsching, am Ammersee, GERMANY
Photo by: Diego Delso. License: CC-BY-SA
Photo by: Diego Delso. License: CC-BY-SANormally, the arrival of a newborn is a very happy time. At first, this was the case for Walter’s arrival too. Walter was her first child. As a new mom, Mama Rosa was as ecstatic as any mom would be with her new baby. After her recovery from childbirth, it was time to return back to the U.S. and begin to work off the obligatory debt that had been established. Walter was bundled up and prepared for a long journey to a new country. Plans were made, travel documents and arrangements were reviewed and bags were packed. On the day of departure, it was an exciting and joyous moment.
All was well…. Until there was a conversation with a Customs Officer at moment of embarkation. “Ms. Albrecht” said the Official, (In German, course) “I see that your travel documents and papers seem to be all in order, but who is this baby with you here today and where is his paperwork?” Suddenly, Mama Rosa was frozen…. paralyzed, stunned and shocked like a deer in the headlights. She had no answer for the Official. She had not expected to be stopped and questioned for the legitimacy of her child. She had a birth certificate to prove that he was hers. What else could they possibly want from an infant? After all, she had arrived a short time previously with him inside of her, and now that he had physically separated from her, he’s still being held, carried and cared by her…. What’s the difference? He still needed her for food, comfort and care. Besides, he could just sit on her lap and wouldn’t need to take up another seat, so she wouldn’t need to pay for an extra seat, right? Why is this a problem?
The Official was firm and unyielding. A supervisor appeared and reinforced the Government’s stance. A child welfare official also appeared “Who is this boy’s father?” They wanted to know. Mama Rosa was caught, being blindsided and unprepared for this unexpected turn of events, she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) answer. “So, you’re an unwed mother?” “Yes.” “How do you plan to provide for AND simultaneously care for an infant…. Can you afford to do that? Ah, NO, I don’t think so. Not as a “housekeeper” as your paperwork says you are. Clearly, you are most unprepared to properly care for one of our own. Do you realize that this country had just recently lost many millions of young men in our most recent war, and now you’re planning to remove yet another young male from our country??? Absolutely NOT! DEPARTURE DENIED!”
Mama Rosa was beside herself as her infant son was placed in the custody of the Government child welfare services and then onto Foster care . Sadly, new plans now had to be made. Mama Rosa would have to travel back to the U.S.A. all by herself and go to work to earn even more money now. Besides that, there came the realization to her that she was seen by officialdom as someone who was NOBODY without a man in her life. Cultural legitimacy was necessary for her to exist in this world, no matter which country she lived in. Clearly, it was time to go husband hunting as well.
NARRATOR’S INTERACTION:
Hello again, Writer.
Oh, Hello again, Angel.
You’ve got quite a story going there so far. How are you feeling about it?
Nervous
Why?
I dunno. Maybe because I’m sharing some really personal and intimate details of the history my life with the public.
OK. I could understand that. So, if you’re nervous about sharing with such depth and detail, then why do it?
Well, I think it’s important for the reader to understand that what I’ll be sharing in the upcoming pages came from some really significant roots. This wisdom that follows here didn’t just suddenly “show up” ya know. It took many, many decades and I literally got my ass kicked six-ways-from-Sunday to acquire what I’m about to share with the readership here.
Hmmmm OK. So, let’s hear it. Whaddaya got?
Well, OK. Here goes some more of this story….
Ammersee Sunset. Photo by: Sonja Schneider
Ammersee Sunset. Photo by: Sonja Schneider