My uncle, Peter Leland Jensen, came from Homedale, Idaho, to spend a few days. I love this man so very much. He is about 12 years older than I, and I have idolized him since I was a child. As a child I loved to spend time with my grandparents, and particularly, I loved to "visit" his bedroom and my aunt Vonda's room. They were magical places - Pete's room was downstairs, and he had a fox skin on his wall and Elsha cologne on his nightstand.
Pete's lived an "outside of the establishment" life, which has continued to endear him to me. He has stories of his adventures - llama treks, campground management, sheep-camp living, gourmet Dutch oven cooking, 4-wheeling activity, cabin building, and I can listen to him forever. He also carries the Jensen humor gene, and most of us have inherited that dry wit - which includes, well, never mind, let's just say, my kids know plenty of cowboy jokes, tricks with lighters, plays on words, and I am proud of that!
Last week, on one of my down days, I think that was Friday, he called. I
cried. He came. Life is good - bring on the chemo and IV therapy,
because with my angel here, I can do anything.