It has been two months since my last blog post. Disgraceful. I’ve had nothing to write about. No disasters, no identity theft, no short stories or novels accepted for publication—But! Reminder: Prophecy of Honor is scheduled for publication late in December! I have, however, suffered a few more rejections. I’m still going through a period of just not writing for no good reason, which is why I haven't done this blog for two months. Every year around Veteran’s Day I think about my uncle, Frederick A. Waiss. I was named after him. Fred joined the Marines when he was eighteen. I don’t know his exact birth date, but that was either in the last half of 1917 or the first half of 1918. Ordinarily, the Marines would not have fought in Europe. But General Pershing felt he needed more soldiers for his push across France, so the powers that be gave him the Second Division of Marines. Fred was in the Second Division; this Division had an excellent service record regarding enemy casualties. Sometime before sunrise on November 11, 1918 (Armistice Day), Fred was killed by machine gun fire. A few hours later, the war was over. I have a picture of him in his uniform, and some old newspaper clippings from Colorado Springs, where he and his younger brother Harold and youngest brother George (my father) and their mother, Nellie Waiss lived, along with my grandmother’s husband, William Johnson. Funny thing—when Dad ever mentioned his time on the ranch, he always referred to the man as just “Johnson.” I only learned his first name through those newspaper clippings. Sometime before June, 1919, Nellie died. The COD at that time was determined to be a heart attack—she was in her forties. Dad was eleven at the time, so we don’t have much in the way of details. Shortly after that his brother Harold went out on his own—he was seventeen (or maybe sixteen). Dad left to live with his father’s maiden sister, Margaret, and she was Dad’s mother for the rest of her life. I remember her, a little. She was in a nursing home and had dementia. Toward the end, she thought my father was his father—her brother. She lived to be ninety. More on my ancestry later. I realized I’ve been missing some opportunities with this blog, so I’m going to try to correct that. First thing: each blog I’m going to include a link to a piece of music I like. You may not, but I do. Usually the music will feature a female singer because I enjoy the sound of a woman’s voice—as long as it’s a sweet and harmonious voice. Second thing: I’m going to present minor little trivia questions that will probably require you to research a little. You might just learn something. Here’s the link to the music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HN9bcuIK70s This group was from South Africa and this was their only hit in America. They had others in S.A. Next blog I’ll discuss this song and the possible meanings or theme of the words. Maybe you’ll have your own ideas. Today’s trivia: What sport is Notah Begay connected with? Soccer? Baseball? Golf? Tennis? Guess first (if you don’t know the answer), then look it up. Just for gits and shiggles. Thank you for reading, listening, and looking.