One of dad’s best friends for the past several decades is a motor cycle riding, tool & die, and guitar playing roughneck dude who loves to pretend he’s both god’s gift to whatever the conversation is about, and that he’s some of kind of “bad ass”.

Yes, the area is gorgeous. Jim loved the music room and thought the place was gorgeous. However, he discovered that he was definitely not the best guitar player ever. This was a major problem for him. He spent a great deal of time trying to justify why he actually was better. When he couldn’t, Jim declared he was bored and it was time to come back home.

Dad stayed here for about a week, remembered how much he didn’t like winter, and then headed back to the cabin.

That’s when he discovered that his best bud hit on some of the married women. That are dad’s friends. As are their husbands.

The really good news is that these friends recognize that the problem lies with Jim, not my father, and the cabin-area friendships have stayed in place. Not so much with the long-time friend.

See, mom never liked Jim. Then it occurred to us that just maybe he’d made moves on her. Given her personality, she’d never tell dad, likely out of fear that dad would get very upset, and some physical stuff might happen. Charges might occur, and so on. Yeah, she could be a bit paranoid, but hey, she grew up in a fear-based home, so it only made sense that she would be, too.

Which takes us to our next post …

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