Frodo, Keeper of the Ring

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Bury Me Not on The Lone Prarie
Mood:

d'oh
Topic: "He is deeply missed (2)"
Frodo has always had an affection for newspapers. When he travels the lands of Middle Earth, he finds a reason to purchase the local paper and to peruse the chronicle of life in an alien community. The local police report, local politics (which may actually be the same thing), and the obituaries are his favorites.

"The obituaries Mr. Frodo? Is that a reflection of the fact that you're checking to make sure that you're not listed?," asked Sam.

"No Sam, I've simply found that by listing the things that are remembered as important, the writer is apparently addressing the values of the community. It goes without saying that it also tells us something about ourselves?"

"For example?," queried Sam.

"Well, let's take a look at the obituaries in the ATLANTA JOURNAL-CONSTITUTION, and both pick out an obituary which we feel is particularly interesting, for whatever reason. Then we wil read parts of the selection, aloud, to one another. You go first."

"OK, I'll pick Martha Clayton Clement, age 53, where it says that she became deaf at the age of three, and subsequently became one of the first students to receive individualized K-12 instruction from a Speech teacher specifically for the hearing impaired. She later joined the Georgia State Patrol as the secoond female license examiner in the State, and was instrumental in establishing the TDD system to assist the hearing impaired in obtaining driver's licenses."

Sam was a little stunned, and remarked, "This means that since she was only 53, that it was only 30 years ago that there were NO women in those positions with the State? For Pete's sake, that was 1976."

Frodo added, "You're right, but think of what preceded her as a deaf person if she was among the very first to get sufficient instruction to allow her to graduate from high school. It probably means that to have been deaf in Georgia was virtually assuring that an individual would be semi-literate, at best."

"Sam, that was after all the great accomplishments of the Civil Rights Movement."

"You know Mr. Frodo, I believe many owe Martha Clayton Clement a debt of thanks."

"I think we all do, Sam."

"Now," said Sam, "Read me about the person you picked."

"I was hung up between two. I liked Mr. Buddy Cawthon, age 80, who was an avid Camellia grower, and Past President of the American Camellia Society. A man who devotes his life to beauty is rare, indeed. However, I was taken by what was written about Mr. Thad Dean LaVance, age 50. It says that he was a well-read and culturally diverse man whose passion for salt-water fishing and culinary excellence was only surpassed by the love he had for his family. His contagious laugh and vivid sense of humor could summon cheer and optimism in an otherwise bleak environment. He is deeply missed."

"Oh Mr. Frodo, how lovely that is. Those closest to him remember him for the laughter he brought into their lives. What a tremendous tribute."

"Is there a point, Sam, you think, to what we've just read?"

Sam thought for a minute about what had been absorbed over the past few minutes. Sam looked at Frodo and said, "If you take these obituaries as important, which we did, then I've learned that much has changed about life in the Shire in just a few short years, and some very ordinary people played a great role in what has taken place. I've also learned that we have lost a lot of the laughter in our lives."

Together Frodo and Sam strolled out into the gardens of the Shire, and looked for shooting stars in the night sky.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:30 PM EDT

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Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Young And Free, Only Seventeen
Mood:

accident prone
Topic: "Toro, Andalay,Toro (2)"
The College of the Shire sits high on the Appalachian Plateau. From its' highest point, which happens to be in the Cemetery, Frodo was first tempted to follow the path to Mordor. On a brilliant October afternoon Frodo sat with Tom Bombadil and they contemplated the majesty of the land that lay before them (It should be noted that Frodo never again visited this idyllic spot unless he was with a Hobbit of the opposite sex).

Tom Bombadil pointed to the distant mountain, covered with snow, which stood beacon-like against the azure and green of Heaven and Earth. "Let's go there Mr. Frodo," said Tom, "and look at Earth from both sides now."

"But we have no motorcar," said Frodo, "and surely it is a journey of many miles."

"Agreed, but why not walk as far as we can, just to be closer to something so special, so rare," answered Frodo's companion.

"Well, we could cross the fences of farmers' fields and the distance would certainly be halved," Frodo suggested, "But we have to promise to turn back before sundown so we are not lost in alien land," he offered, with caution.

"Agreed," said Tom Bombadil, and the two kindred spirits were off in search of the mountaintop known as White.

It was a long walk, and crossing many fences soon put them into territory that was totally unfamiliar. As the afternoon wore on, it unsurprisingly grew colder all about, and the travelers became less than cautious of their surroundings. With no warning whatsoever, Frodo first noticed the hilltop observers monitoring the progress of the uninvited guests upon their land
and stopped dead in his tracks. Tom Bombadil, noting the silence and the apparent concern of Frodo, turned to look in the same direction, and he grew as silent as the wind toppling the blades of grass at their feet.

One of the bulls bellowed, as if he were signaling all to charge, for that is what they did. Down the hill they came, at a furious clip, twenty or more, directly toward the frozen vagabonds who had inadvertently wandered into the pastures of an Agricultural Experimental Station. Neither Tom nor Frodo knew exactly what to do, but there was a tree in the middle of the field, and Frodo knew that he could reach the base and scamper skyward in the time available. Tom was not so sure, but he followed as fast he could behind Frodo, only to freeze at the base of the tree with the words "I can't make it."

Frodo would not leave his friend, so the two backed against the tree and stared back at the onrushing bovine assassins. Tom was gurgling from deep in his throat when Frodo began to sing.

"I'd like to teach the World to sing in perfect harmony. I'd like to buy the World a Coke and keep her company. . ."

As Tom Bombadil swore for many years, as bad as Frodo sang, it seemed to have some impact on their attackers. Tom urged him on, and on, until the bulls seemed to universally find greater interest in blades of grass than obviously tone-deaf intruders. After an eternity the bulls turned, and moved far enough away that both Frodo and Tom were assured they could make the first barbed-wire obstacle faster than any creature with four legs. They were proven correct.

Much later they returned to their dormitory, and actually had time to catch the last line at the evening meal. Frodo begged off from Tom however, when he became acutely aware of the fact that he needed both a shower and a trip to the laundry.

Frodo learned that entering another's land without an avenue of retreat is a dangerous path to tread. It makes him wonder why such wisdom is confined to Hobbits.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:49 PM EDT

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Sunday, July 9, 2006

Oh Me Oh My, I'm a Fool For Ya Baby
Mood:

cheeky
Topic: "Taxpayer Assistance (2)"
There are two pieces of official correspondence which were designed to instill foreboding into the psyche of the recipient. For the time being, one of those is not likely to enter the mailbox of any resident of the Shire. It is the one that begins with the word "Greetings," and, in times past, it directed the recipient to Fort Benning or some other preparatory juncture. The other is that which carries an important message from the Commissioner of Internal Revenue. Frodo received that one this past week.

Frodo was incensed that the tax return which he had prepared by hand, free of outside assistance, was being questioned by a lackey of George W. Bush. Frodo reviewed his return, taking special note of the one "line" on the return that was being proposed for "adjustment." It looked fine to Frodo, and therefore did not seem to require the machination suggested by the Orcs.

To prepare for the "toll-free telephone call," Frodo assembled the IRS' own publications which he had used to compute his liability (Frodo prefers to consider it his "contribution"). When he did call he was prepared to speak authoritatively, and to put the miscreant in his place on the other end of the telephone line. Unfortunately, the voice on the other end of the line was that of a lady, and she sounded like somebody's Aunt Flora. It is very difficult to sound authoritative and professional when talking to Aunt Flora.

What was worse was the fact that Frodo had, indeed, overlooked one of those inanities in the Tax Laws which make absolutely no sense. Aunt Flora agreed with Frodo that it was a ridiculous aspect of the law, and Frodo knew that further verbal conflict was unjustifiable. She just didn't have to be so darned nice.

It made Frodo think about an old friend whose passing was noted earlier this past week. Ogal Preston Crews, a teacher, had retired and gone to work for the Internal Revenue Service in the exact same role as Aunt Flora. He would answer far more than 100 incoming telephone calls every day, and the complexity of the queries ranged from the "Well Duh, if you'd read the instructions. . ." to "The Tax Court of the United States ruled. . ." Crews had to treat everyone exactly the same, firm but polite, and to respond fully and concisely to the question at hand. As the story was told to Frodo by someone who was there, he knows the following to be true.

Crews received a telephone call from a gentleman who had a question about the preferential treatment given to forested property. Land that is used to grow trees to be sold for profit qualifies for special benefits, just as does land that is used for growing certain crops. What the caller asked Crews was, "How many trees does it take to be considered a forest?"

Crews alternatively sipped from a coffee cup and dragged on a cigarette (enough said), and contemplated the question. The smugness of the caller was shattered by the question in return, "Well, how many whiskers does it take to have a beard?"

The caller laughed out loud, and obviously smiled into the telephone. "I suppose, young man," the caller said, "that if I have to ask I probably don't qualify in either instance?"

"I'm afraid that is probably so, Sir."

Frodo wishes he had told Aunt Flora about Ogal Preston Crews. Oh well, now you know, dear reader, and that is important enough.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:06 PM EDT

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Thursday, July 6, 2006

Every Limbo Boy And Girl, All Around The Limbo World
Mood:

don't ask
Topic: "Horn of Africa (2)"
France and Italy will square off later this week in a mind-numbing athletic contest to determine the winner of what is known as "The World Cup." For what seems like hours, young men will run back-and-forth in searing heat in the attempt to deposit more balls into a rectangular net than will their opponents. It is an emotional sport, primarily because of the nationalistic fervor which the competition inspires. Frodo remembers a trip to Germany many years ago just when Russia (then USSR) and Germany were squaring off in such a contest, and he was startled to hear fans of each team refer to the pending contest as "Revenge for Stalingrad." It was a synonym not easily forgotten by any who were vaguely familiar with the horrors of that struggle.

The globalization of this small, blue planet is set aside when national flags fly from packed stadiums. Frodo assumed that this would be a continuing series of events until space aliens replace teams drawn from national boundaries. Last week however, Frodo was reminded of the barbarous Orcs who intrude on the games. In Somalia, a land that has no nationalistic principle at all, the authoritative religious leaders of the majority Islamic faith put the viewing of the World Cup off limits to their faithful subjects. For violation of this edict, two young men were executed for having watched one of the games on a television set.

Dear reader try to imagine, if you will, what might have happened had the two unfortunates been caught dancing? There are places in Middle Earth where that activity is forbidden because it also violates an edict directed to the pious and the faithful. The consumption of tea and coffee are similarly forbidden, and gambling, well even the less righteous are aware of the despair that brings to the faithful. Frodo is well aware that history is chronicle to the cruelty of men-to-men in the name of faith.

Boys die because they watch a soccer match on television in the 21st Century. The global planet is a study in extremes, and degree. Just ask Ralph Reed what kind of behavior he thinks should be restricted.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:27 PM EDT

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Wednesday, July 5, 2006

But Come Ye Back When Summer's in The Meadow
Mood:

lyrical
Topic: "Oh Kenny Boy (2)"
Events of this day require that Frodo issue an apology. It is now most likely that George W. Bush will not issue a Presidential Pardon on behalf of the single largest contributor to his Texas Gubernatorial Campaign. Ken Lay dropped dead of a heart attack, thereby negating Frodo's projected occurrence for early January, 2009.

What it is that motivates men to sacrifice personal integrity is merely colored ink on a linen weave. Such a life deserves no lament, in fact it is undeserving of respect. How quixotic that one who bears such heavy responsibility for the political career of George W. Bush joins the ranks of the thousands whose funerals will go unattended by the President of the United States. Frodo supposes it would indeed be a "distraction" for the family to have he who called him "Kenny Boy" stand by the grave of his financier.

Frodo wonders how much of the ill-gotten gains of Ken Lay ended up in the advertisements paid for by the "Swift Boat Veterans for Truth?" Resources which this man embezzled from the employees under his direction were used to subvert the electoral process. Thousands died to protect that process, but Ken Lay got rich on other peoples' money, and he used it to support the worst Presidential Administration in American History, by any standard. Frodo has no sympathy, only regret, regret that Ken Lay ever lived at all.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:13 PM EDT

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Tuesday, July 4, 2006

I'm Gonna Sit Right Down And Write Myself a Letter
Mood:

chatty
Topic: "Tree Fishin' (2)"
Frodo had much to contemplate in the days leading up to the 230th Anniversary of American Independence. A Japanese Prime Minister visited Graceland, the Republican-dominated House and Senate took polar positions on the same issue, the gallant Howard seemed to be slipping further and further away, and the rumblings emanating from Mount Doom indicated that Frodo was falling two steps back for every one taken. So Frodo went fishing.

Accompanied by Fiona and Mick, the Wonder Dog, Frodo launched the "SS Minnow" from its' berth on "Lake Lovey," and departed for the shady shoreline. Brutal summer heat means that daytime fishing in freshwater is deep and slow, unless, of course, one knows of a shady spot where minnows are plentiful. Casting rubber worms underneath the overhanging limbs of deciduous trees is tolerable in the shade, and often fruitful for the patient fisherperson (and crew).

Drifting slowly along such a shoreline, Frodo noted that his crew had succumbed to the rigors of their duties. Nary a one had any interest in Frodo's commentary on Koizumi's rendition of "Falling in Love With You," (he was good!). So Frodo was able to concentrate entirely on his mid-summer daysdream in which he portrayed Spencer Tracy as "The Old Man" in Hemingway's "Sea."

Casting in such an environment is fraught with danger from those same shading overhanging limbs. Frodo's rubber worm arced slightly to the right and came down on the other side of such a limb. The snagged line allowed the lure to dangle just on the surface, and to lightly rise and fall with the wind and the waves. Without warning, an irritated largemouth bass took note of this unique offering and struck at the lure with the ferocity of "Jaws" in pursuit of the crew of the "Orca." This was certainly the first time that Frodo had ever witnessed a tree catching its' own fish. He was humiliated when, awakened by the clatter, his loyal crew swung into action expecting to closely examine another prized catch by their fearless leader.

It is very difficult to explain all of this to a dog. By the time Frodo was able to manuver to the location of the dangling fish it had escaped into the depths. Mick, the Wonder Dog, avoided eye contact, and returned to his slumbers. Fiona, however, evidently felt a bit of empathy for Frodo, and gave him a small kiss on the hand.

She surely knew that Frodo would've let him go anyway. Frodo scratched Fiona's head and chin and turned "The Minnow" leeward, toward the shallows in a hidden cove, free from overhanging limbs and robber trees.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:08 PM EDT

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Wednesday, June 28, 2006

I Just Dropped in to See What Condition my Condition Was in
Mood:

lucky
Topic: "Baby Doctors (2)"
Doctors are supposed to be old, and they are supposed to be wise. It is disconcerting to Frodo whenever he comes into contact with a physician who has not yet read the complete works of William Shakespeare, nor memorized Gray's Anatomy. Frodo truly resents medical practitioners who have deviated into the political arena, for they join the failed attorneys and over-the-hill jocks who populate the Halls of Congress. There are not enough of those people whom Frodo was led to believe worked in medicine because they wanted to "help people."

Frodo's personal physician is a crusty guy who once helped maintain the physical attributes of Navy Pilots. Frodo is comfortable with him because he does not remember Frodo from one visit to the next. Visiting the doctor is an event that, although significant to Frodo, should be handled routinely and efficiently by the medical practitioner. Special treatment and attention is what concerns Frodo.

Frodo once had a hemorrhoid (in this instance it was not George W. Bush). It was not a common occurrence, and neither Frodo nor Sam seemed to have any solution for the discomfort it caused Frodo. As the discomfort, and the swelling, grew, Frodo had to succumb to medical counsel and treatment. Frodo did not have a regular physician at the time so he had to endure the indignity of the local "doc in a box." It was Frodo's very first visit to this innovation in medical care arising from the franchised world of big business.

After a plethora of forms were filled, Frodo was eventually led to a private chamber to await the assigned physician. The wait was interminable, although in truth it was probably only a matter of minutes.

The "doctor" turned out to be an extremely attractive, young, black, female, approximately half Frodo's age. Only one of us blushed as she examined Frodo's chart.

After a few "Hmmm's" and "I see's," she told me that she would have to conduct a digital examination. She asked Frodo if he would be uncomfortable with her performing the examination. Without hesitation Frodo responded, "Young lady, Frodo has no objection whatsoever because you are about to satisfy a lifelong fantasy."

With that, the doctor began to laugh. She laughed so hard that she could not stand up straight, and tears ran down her cheeks onto the examination room floor. Everytime she raised her head and her eyes met Frodo's, she would begin to laugh again. Soon Frodo began to laugh, too. The laughter became so raucous that eventually a nurse knocked on the door to see if there was a problem of some sort. Neither Frodo nor the doctor could stop laughing long enough to answer the door. The nurse must've simply stood there for several minutes, hesitating to interrupt whatever was going on in that examination room.

When, finally, the laughter ceased, the digital examination was just about to commence when the doctor snickered. That started Frodo to laugh again, which, of course, led to the doctor developing another hysterical outburst. By now, Frodo was buck naked, and the doctor had probably wet her britches.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the two got their respective breaths, and went efficiently about the completion of their professional relationship. Upon completion, Frodo went to the reception area to finalize the fiscal aspect of his transaction, and to pick up the prescription the doctor had prepared for him. As he started out the door, he turned and looked back to see the doctor standing on the far side of the room, smiling. He said to her, "You were a dream come true." And she started to laugh again as Frodo stepped, smilingly, into a February's twilight.

One thing is for sure. Frodo would never have had such an experience with his present physician.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:51 PM EDT

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Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Look at That Caveman Go
Mood:

smelly
Topic: "Gotta Have a Home (2)"
"Banishment" is a word that sounds medieval. In the Icelandic Sagas it says that banishment was the supreme penalty for the lawbreaker. The offender was simply taken out to the very middle of the country and left all alone. Should he return to civilzation he would be deemed akin to a parolee. However, the Icelanders never had to face that happenstance.

Frodo begins this discussion because banishment is not quite as medieval as some may think. In the land of Georgia, beyond the Shire, banishment exists as a legal punishment for criminals, and as a relief for the banishing county. In truth, a lawbreaker may be driven by the local constabulary from the jail where he is serving a sentence to the City of Atlanta and merely dropped off to fend for himself. It happens with great regularity.

Sadie Fields, who heads the Georgia Chapter of the Christian Coalition, appeared on television last week in an interview. She argued for the State Legislatures' restriction on the rights of gay people. To justify her position she referred to the Old Testament, specifically the Books of Leviticus and Exodus. What Sadie failed to acknowledge, or for that matter what the crack interviewer failed to question, was that these are exactly the same parts of the Old Testament used by past Georgia officials to justify the existence of slavery.

Now the State of Georgia has proposed the most restrictive residential laws imaginable against one particular class of lawbreaker. What has been proposed is that no "registered sex offender" may reside within 1000 feet of any school bus stop in the State of Georgia. By actual measurement this means that there is virtually no location in any metropolitan area in which a person so deigned would be able to live. Should such a person already live in an affected location, then they must leave their residence. A "registered sex offender" is a person with a criminal record who has served his sentence, been paroled, or otherwise released from custody. The punishment, it seems, never ends.

Frodo will not argue that everyone is an innocent, and should be treated as such, but it is fallacious to assume that all those cited above should be singled out for special treatment. Rural offenders, gay people, slaves, and "registered sex offenders" are probably just about as diverse as the internees at Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib. One should probably never turn one's back on a lawbreaker, but to give them no opportunity to ever rejoin the greater community is just plain evil.

There are times when Frodo is not very proud of those who claim to represent him, or his values, or the Shire. Perhaps if they would be required to learn the Ten Commandments by heart? Frodo wonders if Representative Lynn Westmoreland (R-Ga) would sponsor such a proposal?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:32 PM EDT

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Sunday, June 25, 2006

Well It Looks Like Raindrops, So Many Raindrops
Mood:

cool
Topic: "Rainy Day in Georgia(2)"
The composition of the soil is such that once the presence of moisture is minimized, then the texture is that of concrete. Add water, and the chemical reaction that results is best described as clay. In any event, no matter what stage it assumes, it is almost impossible to farm or garden when it is either too wet or too dry. One has to wait for the right time and circumstance. The fact that anything grows is a tribute to "Yankee ingenuity."

Frodo has been thinking about that ingenuity a great deal lately. As a businessman, Frodo believes in capitalism and the opportunity it affords to the adventurous risk-taker with a better idea. He differs from most of his associates in that he readily accepts that with success comes societal obligation. Warren Buffet, Bill Gates, and Ted Turner are three men whom Frodo regards as models for that in which he believes. Many of those with whom Frodo does business are more concerned with minimizing their obligations, moral or economic.

Frodo once met a young man who had been in Lithuania when the Soviet Union collapsed. The young man told him the following story which Frodo repeats here as a reminder that success does not necessarily correspond to advantage over the less fortunate. Sometimes, it just is.

The young man had completed an assignment for his employer in Germany, and was on his way home to the United States. He passed through Lithuania on the way home, and there he happened to meet several businessmen who were discussing the changes in their country that were sure to follow. At an outdoor cafe he asked the men what they felt was the one thing that the consumers in this former Soviet-bloc nation would most like to obtain from the West.

"Oh, that's easy," said one of the businessmen, "beer, in cans." The others began to nod and quickly voiced their assent.

The young American was aghast. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. "You and your European neighbors brew the greatest beers in the world, and even the best American product is almost tasteless in comparison."

"Oh, that we know, but you have to consider that the Lithuanian people have been watching American TV for years, and with that, we get your commercials," he responded. "That means we have been watching blonde-haired girls in bikinis riding horses on the beach, and drinking beer out of cans. Beer is not in cans in Europe, it is poured into a glass, or served in a bottle."

As they talked, the young American asked a simple question. "How much American beer could you distribute, and how much could you pay for it?" The men looked at one another, and a discussion of possibility began. Remember dear reader, this was a time when the Internet did not yet exist, and something called "TeleFax" was as high-tech as international communication stood.

"We feel that we could sell 5 Million cans of beer, and that we can afford to pay something in the neighborhood of $1,250,000 in US dollars." The young American began to do some mental calculations, and he remembered that his college roomie used to drink some cheap beer that he got for about $1.50 per six-pack. If he could get a wholesale price for the beer, then he just might be able to make enough money to make the effort profitable.

He placed telephone calls to several breweries in the US, finally finding a potential with the Heilemann Brewing Company. They, at the time, had a product called "Red, White, and Blue" which did retail in the US for $1.50 per six-pack. They told the young American they could meet an order for 5 Million cans of beer, (translating to 833,335 six-packs, or 208,335 cases roughly) at a wholesale rate of $.20 per can. Mental calculations quickly translated that 5 cents per can into a potential gross profit of $250,000.

From this discussion he learned that the price included delivery FOB (Free on Board) to any American port of departure.

Three more long distance telephone calls provided him with a shipping contact in New York who could deliver the beer to Hamburg, Germany, for 3 cents per can. Gross profit now reduced to $100,000.

He was able to arrange train transportation from Hamburg to Lithuania for an additional 1 cent per can. Then came the bad news. He learned that Germany had a protective tariff against the importation of foreign beer into that country. It amounted to 1 cent per can.

Defeat snatched from the jaws of victory is something that does not deter a good businessman. The young American, with no more than two additional calls to the US, learned tht if he had the beer delivered to the Port of Baltimore that there was a shipper there who could deliver the beer directly to Lithuania. The cost would be 4 cents per can.

When all was said and done, the young American had spent less than 12 hours, and incurred total expenses of less than $100 in long-distance telephone calls, to achieve a profit of 1 cent per can, or $50,000. The story ends with delivery of 5 Million cans of "Red, White, and Blue" to Lithuania. The supply was sold out in no time, and all of the investors made money.

Since the beer tasted like crap, it should be noted that no further orders were received at the Heilemann Brewing Company. The good people of Lithuania learned that not everything you see on television is as it appears.

When last Frodo heard of that young man, he had returned to Germany, and was looking for opportunity. Frodo believes he must be working on something to prevent soil from becoming either too wet or too dry. At least he wouldn't be at all surprised to find it so.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:02 PM EDT

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Saturday, June 24, 2006

It Always Was a Mighty Fine Wine
Mood:

special
Topic: "Ogal Preston Crews (2)"
Ogal Preston Crews was a bullfrog;
He was a good friend of mine,
I never undestood a single thing he said,
But I helped him drink his wine.
It always was a mighty fine wine.

Joy to the world,
All the boys and girls,
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea,
Joy to you and me.

Ogal Preston Crews--scholar, raconteur, dog-lover, benefactor, character, and a resident of Fincastle, Virginia, today joined his beloved "Mrs. Peel," and right about now she is licking his hand and telling him how much she has missed her master.

Frodo cannot feel sad, except for himself.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 3:32 PM EDT

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