We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die,
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain's eye.
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call,
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all
My mom will be 102 in February. She is a Christian Scientist and has never had a doctor. She is the only lady in the home who is not on meds. Her muscles have failed her so she's in a wheelchair, but she's eternally optimistic. I have never heard her complain, or say she's depressed. Sometimes she says to me, "Lloyd, I've never felt better in my life." I was the first born, and the most trouble. From what I hear, she had her hands full. Mischief, and my life-defiance of authority. Now that it's all in the past, we have a wonderful relationship. I tell her all about what I'm doing, and she's amused. She often talks about stunts I pulled. I played the ukulele for her and sang: Over the Rainbow, Ja-da, Five Foot Two, Ain't She Sweet, Darktown Strutters' Ball.