I want one of these shirts. Of all the Kirk McCurrays in the world, I am the Kirk McCurrayist
A few jots and tittles for ya, before you commence to consume mass quantities...
A reader asks why we've experienced Walter Siedlecki interruptus. It's a great story, and at the eleventh hour, I found some data that adds a lot of information. I want to do justice to the story, so I'm holding off. The data includes, I think, his complete military record, so that should be something worth waiting for!
The same reader wonders why the Poles did not readily assimilate into American society. It's a great question, and I will address it in a future posting. Suffice to say there are three strains of immigrants: those who came here expressly to establish a new home; those who came here as political or religious exiles; and those who came here as economic refugees. Assimilation, particularly for group two, takes generations for some groups.
I was at the bank yesterday. I've gone to the same bank for nearly twenty-four years. Our personal accounts are there. My corporate account is there. They know me. So I'm making a deposit in the drive-through lane, and the lady sends back the deposit bag with a cherry, "Have a happy Thanksgiving, Mr. McCurry."
McCurry. How I hate you, McCurry.
I tracked down another distant relative this week. Rick Heenan, of Lockport. Rick is the youngest child of Charlotte McMurray Heenan, who was my grandfather's sister. Rick is a singer-songwriter, who performs all over upstate New York. He plays something he calls "Canal Blues" -- it's good stuff!
Have a happy Thanksgiving, everybody!