Do You Have a Dog in This Hunt?
Thicke, prince of cats I always considered my family from Kansas City. A town I was not born in (St Joseph hospital was closer) and only partly raised. My father was born in Iowa but Mother in Missouri somewhere. Her family was from Mexico, Missouri where as far as I have been able to ascertain her grandfather was the town drunk. From the second grade on we were military gypsies which saved us from dying of starvation on the plot of land now under the Kansas City Airport runways. In the era after WWII there was a return to the land movement and a belief with a couple acres of land and enough side businesses you could survive without working for The Man. Mom and Dad were obviously their generation's version of hippies. We had a truck farm on an acre, chickens to produce eggs we sold, and kennels where Dad raised hunting dogs. He also showed and trained them. The Korean Conflict and my father being a pilot saved us from all of that. And in the second grade I was in Roswell, N...