September 27, 2018:
The women are obese.
The cows they raise-and-murder are slowly killing them, clogging their arteries with poison fat as surely as raindrops fall from heaven.
The men are at least on tractors or under cars. The women lead sedentary lives of card games and baking circles.
And they're joyless. Especially that cold bitch my grandfather married. The retired schoolmarm with incipient dementia. She treated me badly and I view her images now without sympathy.
One of their wives was kind. Faye, a jolly old fat lady. She smiles, tells jokes. I remember her as by far the smartest adult in any of these rooms. Later she was horribly injured by walking through the plate glass window of a bank. Some of these people may have deserved that kind of punishment. She certainly didn't.
I take after these lanky men. Beanpoles. Going to belly fat in later life but wiry when they were younger.
Were they ever younger, though?
These people were in their forties but they look ancient to me.