Date: Fri, 6 Jun 2008 04:40:56 -1000
From: S turner <scotty.13411@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Fork in the Road--Epilogue"

Fork in the Road
By Scott Turner
EPILOGUE


      The "Frick Fiasco," as many capital insiders had come to call it, or
the "Frick Fuck-Up," to his opponents, continued to unfold throughout the
summer and, as often happens, the political and legal storms collided to
make a pretty rough ride for most of the main players.  After a two-month
investigation, District Attorney Kachelski brought indictments against
Jeremy Frick and two of the more arrogant and recalcitrant caucus staffers.
Four other underlings, including Penny Harrington, each worked out deals to
testify against Frick and plead guilty to a single misdemeanor charge of
violating the state's campaign regulations.  Each one received six month's
probation and a hundred hours of community service from the judge.  Frick,
however, vowed to fight on with a team of high priced attorneys.

      In the first few days back home, Scott tried several times to call
Greg without success, and had sent him two e-mails.  By the end of the
first week he was confused and concerned and was even thinking about
driving to Mankato to find out what was going on.  Late one night, his cell
phone woke him up.

      A sheepish and subdued voice meekly greeted him.  "Hi."

      "Greg!  What the hell?"

      "Sorry about being out of touch.  I've been sorting things out around
here and didn't know what to tell you until now."

      Scott sat up and turned on the lamp next to his bed before reaching
back with his free hand to wrestle with the pillows and prop them up
against the headboard.  "So, fill in the blanks, will you?  I've been going
nuts."

      "I know, and I'm sorry.  But a couple of things sort of blew up on
this end since I got here."

      Scott coughed and yawned.  "Well, start at the beginning then."

      "Okay. Nick had already found a couple two-bedroom apartments for us
to look at and they looked good and affordable.  The first couple of nights
back here we rented a cheap hotel room, and that was all well and good.  No
messing around, just so you know."

      Scott sighed a hint of relief.  "Okay."

      "And Nicky told me that he was still pursuing Patrick, his gymnast
buddy, pretty seriously.  But he hadn't told Patrick anything about my
moving in, and he wasn't gonna tell him anything about our history...mine
and Nick's, that is.  He didn't want to freak him out or anything."

      "Okay.  His call, I suppose, but kind of tricky.  I mean, not
mentioning it at all is pretty deceptive, don't you think?"

      "Yeah, but remember how secretive I told you Nicky can be.  That's
the other thing.  I told Nick that I came out to Jesse and Dad.  He went
nuts."

      "Why?"

      "Well, even though we grew up in different towns they're really close
to each other.  Nick's dad and mine know each other, mostly `cuz of our
high school baseball careers, and their paths do cross sometimes.  So Nicky
started going ape shit with stuff like, `So what if your old man runs into
mine and asks why Nick is living with his fag of a son?'"

      "That's nuts, not to mention pretty harsh."

      "I know that.  But then Nicky goes ahead and decides to tell Patrick
that I'm gay and that I've got at least one foot out of the closet, and
that he and I used to mess around.  So, now Patrick's freaking out about
our living situation."

      "And, so...?  Where's everything today?"

      "Well, I though I was gonna have to look for other arrangements.
During and after our moving in here Nick was impossible for a few days.  He
wouldn't talk to me, Patrick wouldn't talk to him, and all this is after
we'd just put down first month's rent and a security deposit on a year's
lease.  Plus, I just started the new job at the restaurant.  I've just been
holding my breath a day at a time."

      "Welcome to the world of gay drama, I guess.  But Greg! You should
have called.  You could have come here and stayed until all the shit got
sorted out."

      Greg's soft smile came through over the phone.  "I know.  I thought
about it.  But that wouldn't have answered any of the questions on this
end.  Anyway, it looks like all's well for the most part.  Me and Nicky set
things right and he's about as cool as he's gonna get with his paranoia
about his family. And he says he's convinced Patrick that I'm just an old
friend and a roommate, and that I'm no threat to the two of them."

      Scott exhaled a load of relief.  "So it's all okay?"

      "Well, about as good as it's gonna get for now."  He snickered, "But
if we were having this conversation in your bed or mine it would be better.
When are you gonna come over and visit?"

      Scott felt his cock crawl upward against the front of his boxers.
"When you invite me," he purred into the phone.  Then his upper head took
over again.  "But, Greg, I'm really not looking to step into some pressure
cooker.  You just said that it's as good as it's gonna get, for now, over
there.  I mean you know I'd love to see you as soon as possible, but.."

      "Yeah, I hear ya'.  Let's keep an eye on our schedules and keep in
touch.  We'll work something out soon."

      Scott smiled.  "The sooner the better.  Hey, I gotta get up early.
Thanks for calling, `cuz I was really worried.  Glad to hear the dust is
settling on your end.  But keep me posted.  Call or e-mail whenever you
can.  I'm open to any and all invitations."

      Greg yawned.  "Okay.  I'm ready to doze off myself.  Thinking of you,
ya' know."

      "Me too, you.  All the time.  G'night."

      They both stroked one off, each one thinking of the other, before
drifting off to sleep.


      Scott traveled back to Madison in June to give his sworn statement
regarding the goings-on within the caucus.  He was surprised by the
low-pressure, almost routine nature of the meeting and he was out of the
conference room much more quickly than he'd expected.  He stayed in Madison
for a couple extra days to hang with his roommies. Brett had moved
completely out of the apartment by this time, leaving Craig there alone for
the summer.  That Friday night they hit State Street together and soon
found themselves having been `over-served' by some dastardly bartender.
Scott actually convinced his buddies to visit a gay bar just off the
square.  As they neared the door, Brett tapped Scott's shoulder.  "I'm not
gonna get groped or anything in here, am I?"

      Scott laughed and shrugged.  "I dunno.  Only been here once, but
don't flatter yourself.  I'd say the odds are very, very low.  You've got
`straight' written all over you, and aside from that, you're not that good
lookin'.  Then again, some guys have awfully low standards."  As he swung
the door open, he leaned back and whispered, "But trust me... guys really
do give better head than women do."  Brett's jaw dropped, but then he
grinned a little.

      The place was packed with gay men and lesbians of every age and
manner, from lispy, bawdy, flaming queens to bears, bikers and
studly-looking jock types in tight jeans and tees or muscle shirts.  Scott
goaded his roomies into challenging several members of a women's softball
team in a few rounds of Cricket at the dartboard.  After six games, it was
three to three.  Scott was suddenly inspired for a tiebreaker and announced
to the women, "Ladies!!  My straight friends here are throwing down the
gauntlet!"  Craig and Brett both froze in mid drink.  "I'll happily put up
the quarters and bet all of you gals that these two breeders will prevail
in the seventh round of this noble battle.  The loser buys a full round of
shots for the winner.  They win, and you owe us three shots.  You win, and
we owe you a dozen.  Send us your best two marksmen...uhm, markswomen...oh,
fuck... marksperson or whatever and let's settle this."  The gals
cheerfully accepted the challenge and the guys promptly went down in
flames.  Fifteen shots and thirty dollars later they were headed for the
door with Scott still laughing.  "God, I'm so embarrassed!  I can't take
you two anywhere!  Beaten soundly by a bunch of girls!"

      Brett, true to form, snorted, "I'm not so sure about that."

      Before going home, he called Grant Cornell and they had lunch
together.  Grant filled him in that Bruce Weeden had parlayed the caucus
story into the managing editor's position with the "Cleveland Plain
Dealer," and would be out of the capitol by the end of the summer.  But
Bruce was good enough to recognize Grant's work on the story and
recommended the newly graduated journalism major to replace him at his desk
in the press room under the dome.  He'd be the youngest member of that
corps ever.  Life was good.

      Over the course of the summer and fall, the tension between Scott and
Maureen thawed.  His dad's campaign sometimes criss-crossed hers and once
Scott had given his sworn statement, the legal and political concerns he'd
once had were a thing of the past.  Long before election day they were old
friends again, and Scott was that much wiser to the ways of insider
politics.

      Following the Fourth of July parade in LaCrosse, in which both Big
Scott and Maureen tromped the streets and worked the curbs, Scotty and his
matronly mentor found themselves sipping from water bottles under the same
tree near the Mississippi River.  Scott looked over and smiled.  "Good
thing this whole Frick thing blew up when it did, huh?  It ought to blow
over before the folks go to the polls in the fall."

      Maureen sipped her water and shrugged.  "Yeah, honey.  I guess so.
We'll see."  He could see it in her eyes that she knew where he was going
with this.

      "It's a good thing somebody gave the D.A. a strong suggestion to look
into the whole mess when she did.  Good thing for everybody, I'd say,
wouldn't you?"

      Maureen tried to look serious as she thought it over.  "Well, Scotty,
it's unfortunate that it happened at all.  But, on balance, I'd say it's
good that it came to light.  And, if this SHE or maybe this HE that you
refer to had any help along the way in sending Mr. Kachelski in that
direction, I'd say that's a good thing too."

      Scott laughed before taking another gulp.  "C'mon Maureen.  Quit
yanking my chain!  This is me you're talking to!"

      She winked and then patted his back.  "Scotty, my dear, I know very
well with whom I'm speaking, but I'm sure that I have no idea what you're
talking about."

      Scott laughed and shook his head.  "Gotcha, Maureen.  Whatever you
say."

      She kissed his cheek.  "But SHE probably needs to become a better
listener to those she loves and trusts."

      Scott hugged her and returned the peck on the cheek.


      And Kelly Abbott showed up again in Scott's life that summer.  She
was working full time on Maureen's campaign from the office back in her
senate district.  She was living in Maureen's house, just a dozen blocks
from the Turner's, and was managing the activities of most of the
campaign's volunteers from there.  One evening they had dinner together at
a local Chinese restaurant and, during their conversation getting caught
up, he came out to her.  After the initial shock wore off, Kelly grinned a
naughty grin.  "Well, you sure as hell could have fooled me!  There was
more than one night that we...well...you were so..." she leaned over and
whispered, "...you were an animal!"

      Scott blushed and smiled back.  "You inspired me, you vixen.  Take it
as a complement that you could get a gay man to do all those things with
you."

      Kelly giggled.  "Actually, I guess I'm relieved.  I thought that that
awful final episode between us at The Concourse meant there was something
wrong with me."  Then she caught herself.  "Not that I think there's
anything wrong with you, Scott, it's just that..."

      He interrupted.  "I get it, Kel'.  Don't sweat it.  It's all good."
He gave her bits and pieces about his time with Greg and their bittersweet
parting a month earlier saying he wasn't sure where it would all lead, but
that he was okay with where things stood.  He intentionally neglected his
full history with Marty, but then gave her the latest update on Jill.  The
date had been set for her transplant, and they agreed to find time to drive
down to Madison and see them after the procedure was completed and she was
well enough to have visitors.

      A couple weeks after settling in back home, Scott got a postcard from
Australia.  "Turner," it read.  "We just wanted to share the good news.
Glenn and I have planned a celebration here in Melbourne to announce and
affirm our commitments to one another for the rest of our lives.  Australia
is about as fucked up as the U.S. is when it comes to marriage and civil
unions, but we're going to do it anyway.  Legal recognition may or may not
come our way, but we don't care.  Glenn agreed that we could do it on July
4th, so we're also celebrating our own little `Independence Day.'  Of
course, my family won't be attending, but we'll be back that way around the
winter holidays again.  This time, though, we'll be wearing rings.  We'll
give you a shout when we're back in the Dairyland.  Glenn starts his new
teaching job soon, and I have about a year before I can finish my MBA.  So,
life is good.  Hope it is there in snowy Wisconsin, too.  All our best."
It was signed by both of them, "Kip and Glenn."

      Scott smiled.  "Good for you guys."

      Three weeks later a thin package arrived, postmarked DeLand, Florida.
Inside was a CD that "The Tellers" had just released; with several of
Alex's solo tracks.  He'd made a point of including his single cover of an
old Beatles tune that Scott was fond of.  Even Big Scott and Suzanne loved
the mix of songs, styles and voices.  There was also a picture of Alex and
Austin at the entrance of the Universal theme park, and a short note.  In
one hand was written, "We're arguing about the best time to visit the
frozen tundra in search of a real polar bear.  We'll let you know."  A
different hand had scrawled, "See?  I have a card now too!"  There was a
business card embossed with "Austin Cambell, Wine Aficionado
Extraordinaire."  Scott laughed out loud.

      Jill's transplant took place as scheduled during the first week in
July.  Marty called or e-mailed Scott nearly every day.  She was due to
remain in the hospital for up to six weeks, but was in strict isolation due
to the risk of infection from outside sources.  Scott wanted to send
flowers, but Marty assured him she'd only be able to look at them through a
window if an orderly or nurse brought them by for her to see.  Instead, two
weeks after the procedure, Scott and Kelly took a day and went to Rockford
together where they bought a red maple sapling.  Under Ashley's direction
and Lil' Scotty's clapping and playing in the dirt, they planted Jill's
"Recovery Tree" in the Anderson's front yard.  Then they coaxed one of the
neighbors walking by to take some pictures of them and the tree before
heading up to the UW Hospital.  After a thorough washing and donning masks,
hospital robes and gloves, they were allowed a short visit.  Jill was
obviously very ill, but was in good spirits.  Marty was obviously very
exhausted, but his spirits were exactly where they always were.  He was
overjoyed at seeing Kelly, but couldn't even really kiss her on the cheek
because of the mask.  He did his best anyway and then gave her a big wet
one after the'd left the room.  And Scott had the pleasure of changing his
godson's messy diapers in the family room down the hall.  At this point,
the kids weren't allowed into mommy's room at all, much to Ashley's
consternation.  She had the nurses pretty much wrapped around her finger,
but they refused to budge on the visits into Jill's room.

      Scott and Kelly had a bite to eat with Marty, Ashley and Lil' Scotty
in the hospital's cafeteria before driving back home.  John and Meredith
joined them late, followed by Marty's mom, Shelly.  Shelly was due to
re-marry a really great guy in August, and both Scott and Kelly promised
they'd be there.  Marty said that the doctors were hoping to release Jill
within the month to return to Rockford, but that it would be four, maybe
six more months before she would be able to get out and about and that
going back to work in a restaurant was practically out of the question.
Continued chemo might be required, he said, depending on whether or not the
donor marrow decided to raise hell with the rest of Jill's system.  Ashley
patted Scott's knee.  "But she's gonna be okay now."  She smiled a loving
child's smile at her Uncle Scott.  "She has a tree now.  The tree will grow
and so will mommy."

      As much as she had initially hoped that the caucus ordeal would be
over and forgotten by election time, the drama proved to be a real boon to
Maureen McCarthy and Governor Ted Hackett.  During the announcement of the
indictments against Frick, District Attorney Kachelski publicly and loudly
lauded the support and cooperation of Maureen and her staff and he praised
the new legislation she'd introduced to stiffen the state's campaign
finance and ethics laws.  He enthusiastically endorsed her bid for Attorney
General.  Governor Ted Hackett quickly jumped on the bandwagon to tighten
the laws and together he and Maureen donned the `law and order' and `clean
government' badges in the summer and fall campaign.

      The following January, the day after Hackett was sworn in for his
fourth term as governor, and Maureen had taken the oath for her new
position as the head of the state's Justice Department, Kachelski was named
Deputy Attorney General.  Scott could only chuckle at the announcement.

      Big Scott's campaign was remarkable only for its lack of controversy.
With the support of the district's outgoing senator and a popular governor
who was steaming toward reelection, he enjoyed a deceptively easy walk into
office against a very bland opponent.  Even Marshall Oakes got on board in
support of Big Scott and was rewarded with Maureen and Big Scott's support
in his bid for the county board.

      "Don't be deluded by all this calm, ya' old fart," Scotty had warned
him more than once.  "It's a different game once you get into the shit in
Madison.  You're gonna have somebody with tons of money and influence
busting your balls over a single vote and you'll wish you were back home
again writing wills and defending the downtrodden."

      His dad would laugh and punch his arm.  "Listen to you, you little
smart assed shit; acting like the `sage on the stage' at the age of
twenty."

      Just before the election, Jeremy Frick was found guilty of four
counts of violating the state's campaign finance and ethics laws and
sentenced to five years in a minimum-security state prison.  The State Bar
Association promptly stripped him of his law license as well.  Scott
scoffed, "Should've been more."

      After the election, Big Scott hired an associate to carry on the law
office's business while he was in Madison.  Stacia Montgomery was a sharp
looking blond whose skirts fit her fine, in Scotty's opinion, and she had
an impressive rack framed by the lapels of a nicely tailored jacket.

      The addition of a new member to the office and the knowledge that Big
Scott would be in Madison at least three days a week for the next four
years, or more, gave the boss's executive assistant all the leverage she
needed.  "Mr. Turner!" Daisy practically shouted with a finger waving in
his face, "You want me to break in and train this new chickadee in the
`Ways of Daisy' and in working a good law office, AND handle a whole mess
o' your clients by myself?  And all the while you're gonna be down there in
Madison makin' all big and everything with all those mucky muck fakers.
Either Daisy gets a raise, or Daisy retires...here and now!"  Big Scott
smiled, raised his fees a little, cut some office expenses and offered her
another seven grand a year.  She was worth it, and he figured it'd only be
a few years before she'd retire anyway.  Plus, he knew that at least half
of it would go to her church.  It was closer to seventy percent.

      Scott returned to Madison for the new school year in mid-August.  He
needed to get ready for the WSA's part in new students' welcome and
orientation, and then he'd have to make sure everything was set for the
fall elections.  He smiled wide when he first saw the new bronze plaque
adorning the front wall of the small building: "Jamieson Hall."  He loved
the plaque and it felt good to be a true `lame duck.'  True to form, Walter
had left everything ready to go, neatly stacked in the office downstairs
and upstairs on Scott's desk, complete with a `to do' list.  All Scott had
to do was round up a few of the other members to volunteer to staff the
tables for a couple of days down at The Union.

      After returning to the apartment and burning a couple of hamburgers
on the grill with Craig, his cell phone rang.  He didn't recognize the
number.  "Hello?"

      "Hi, Scotty!  It's Abby!  How are you, dear?"

      "Well, son of a...er, gun!  Abby Svendsen!  How the heck are you?
What a great surprise!"

      Abby laughed at Scott's polite discretion.  "Aw, say sonofabitch if
you mean it, Scotty.  I'm doing good, thanks.  But I had to call you.  I
figure you're back on campus already?"

      "Yep.  Got back a few days ago.  The cat and the dog are still
sniffing around and getting reacquainted with our Madison digs.  My mom
spoiled them both rotten this summer, so I'm sure we'll be battling over
the readjustment into their normal regimen of neglect.  So, What's up?"

      "You're not gonna believe this.  I just got off the phone with Ted
Hackett's chief of staff."

      "Marsha?  Whoa.  She's..."

      "I know.  She's a raving bitch on wheels and a conniving one at that.
But here's the deal: A circuit court judge in Waukesha county, the
Honorable Mordacai Breech, has announced his resignation for `medical
reasons.'"

      Scott laughed.  "Yeah, I read that.  I hear that all his `medical
reasons' come out of a bottle that's about eighty proof."

      He could hear Abby nodding.  "Me too.  Anyway, that gives Hackett an
appointment to make before the election in November.  Guess who old Ted's
going to appoint to the bench.?"

      Scott thought for a second and then it hit him.  "No!  You gotta be
shitting me!"

      Abby giggled.  "You really are Evelyn Turner's grandson, but you got
it.  Andrew J. Pennington, Attorney at Law.  Can you say Judge Pennington?"

      "Hoooo-llleeeee shit!" was all Scott could say.

      "So guess who the guv' wants to move into the center chair on The
Regents?"

      "Oh, Abby!  That'd be frigging great!  I only got a year left with
the gang, but with you as our chair, it'd be a breeze!  Hot Damn!"

      She sighed and paused.  "One condition, Scotty.  You have to agree to
take over the finance committee as chair."

      Scott's eyes clamped shut and his left hand rubbed his forehead.
"Aw, shit, Abby.  I've spent most of the past spring and summer trying to
lighten my load.  But changing majors and all, and with Dad's campaign
still in full gear..."

      "Scott, I told Marsha that I'd only take the center seat of The
Regents if you'd take on the big committee."

      "She must have had a friggin' cow when you told her that.  I'm a
trouble maker, don't ya' know?"

      Abby giggled.  "Not sure about the cow, but probably close.  I know
you're a trouble maker, and that's one of the reasons why I love ya' dear.
You still remind me of your Gran' and we can do a lot of good together.
Plus, it's only for a year."

      Scott smiled big.  "Okay, my dear.  You got a deal.  Tell Hackett's
henchmen, or henchwoman, that we're good to go.  Let's spend the year
kickin' ass and takin' names."

      Abby laughed again.  "That's the spirit, Scotty!  I'll call her back
and warn her that you'll be in charge of the UW's finance committee, so
she'd better play nice for a change."

      Scott grinned again.  "Tell her whatever you want.  I'll see you at
next month's meeting."

      Curiosity finally got the better of him, so Scott made a few quiet
inquiries as to the whereabouts of Elliot Lyman.  He learned from a contact
in the Registrar's office that Elliot apparently had second thoughts about
graduate school at the UW.  It seemed that he'd decided instead to enroll
in a Master's of Divinity program at a small seminary in Indiana.
Apparently, the young Holy Roller and soldier of God was going to follow in
his father's divinely ordained footsteps.  `Praise the Lord!' Scott
chuckled.

      The next morning, after making a few calls and securing the needed
help for orientation, Scott went to the bookstore.  He pulled out his first
semester schedule: one course in political science with his old friend
Professor Cushing; three education classes in adolescent psychology,
instructional modifications for special education students and public
school law.  After scanning the shelves and filling a cart with several
tomes from the world of education, he fumbled in his wallet for the credit
card he used for school stuff.  He looked at the strange titles in his
load, none of the authors being familiar to him. He muttered to himself,
"Jesus Christ, Turner!  What have you done?  You're out of your league."
He smiled as he began stacking the books on the checkout counter.

      The clerk scanned the books and began bagging them.  "Another
Ed. major, huh?"

      Scott nodded.  "Yep.  You too?"

      Mason, by his nametag, nodded back.  "Elementary Ed.  Going to start
my student teaching with second graders in a couple weeks."

      Scott blew out a sigh of admiration.  "Whoa!  I couldn't do it man.
Those kids kind of scare me.  I have a young niece and nephew, sort of, and
they're both gonna be hell on wheels when they get to school.  There's a
special place in Heaven for you folks who work with that age all day."

      Mason continued working through Scott's stack of books with an
appreciative grin and his eyes widened.  "Holy cow!  Teen psych, special
ed. and school law...all in the same semester?  That's a load!  Somebody's
jumping in with both feet!"

      Scott smiled again, puffed his chest out a bit and nodded.  "Yes.
Yes I am.  I can hardly wait."

      Mason's mouth, eyes and brows all smiled back.  "Well, you know what
we say, `Those who can, DO.  Those who can do more, TEACH.'"

      Scott laughed.  "Let's hope so, huh?  Good luck with the student
teaching."  He picked up two heavy bags of books and strolled toward the
door, still smiling.





Author's Note: Well, this has been fun.  Typing "The End" was rather
bittersweet, but it'll have to do for now.  Fifty chapters and one Epilogue
after starting all this foolishness on a whim with "Strange Bedfellows,"
and I'm ready for a break.

    I can't thank Kory and Scott H. enough for their constant help in the
proof reading and editing of this effort.  Those of you who have sent a
friendly `the editing has improved' message have them to appreciate.

    William Tyler King (Billy McBride) has been a constant delight
throughout.  I thought it was fun merely swapping smart-assed e-mails with
him, but working with him on a chapter of "Fork" was a dream come true.
Still, even though I'm pretty healthy again, I fear I won't live long
enough to see the final chapter of "Reclaiming Austin."  I'm not sure any
of us will.

    For their input and feedback on the story, and their all-around
encouragement, big hugs go out to Peter A., Tim, Allan and Glenn.

    I need to shout out huge thanks and lots of warm hugs to many of you
for your continued reading and constant notes of support: Joe and John (and
the delightful cards you guys send), Stephen (and your cards, too), my
sweetheart Tracy, both Barry J. and Barry R., Phil, Tampa Joey, Chris
C. and Darrin; and Don Hanratty has been most gracious and flattering.  If
you're not reading his work, get there now!  Thanks, too, to Doug, Gabe,
Homer, Jack, Jacob and James, and to Jason and Jeremie, Jim and both
Justins.  (Jeez!  That's a lot of J's in my inbox.)  Lamar, Larry and my
buddy in DC, Les; Mark, Matt, Mike, Pat, the other Peter A. and Rock have
all been fantastic; Angga, Stefan, Terry, Ted, Triggereo and Wayde too!
All of your greetings and commentary on the story have been greatly valued.

    And, to everybody who sent "Get Well" messages and other kind thoughts
and prayers over the past months, Bless You.  I'm fine thanks.  Nearly 100%
only five months later thanks to my good doctors and the physical therepy
sadist, as well as your many kindnesses.

    THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!  If I've overlooked you, I really apologize.

    Like Scott Turner, Jr. I'm going to let it go for a time now.  I've had
some serious thoughts about finishing a trilogy, and have shared them with
a few of you.  At the moment, however, I have more than enough on my
personal and professional plate calling for my attention.  Like Scott
Turner, Jr., I do believe the light's gone out on my dome.  IF that third
story does happen, and if you'd like to be notified, please sent me a
message and I'll include you on a new distribution list that I'll compile.
Please, just don't look for it anytime soon.  Meantime, there are a lot of
great authors out there for you to enjoy.  And, PLEASE, PLEASE make a
contribution to Nifty!!

    So right now, if nobody minds (or even if you do), I think I'll go and
pour a stiff bourbon, sit out back and watch the Orioles and the Cardinals,
and that god-damned nasty Blue Jay, mix it up around the bird feeder.

    Be Well,

    --Scott