A Brief History of My Life

Last night I had a quite lengthy discussion with two very special friends from my past on Facebook.  We started to talk about Personal Histories, so I decided to share my brief history here with you.

I was born April 28, 1963 to Frank and Cynthia Larson.  For several years things went on in my daily life of which no one in particular would be very interested.  I suppose I’ll have more similar days in the future and then I will die.  Hopefully someone will care enough to attend my funeral and find at least one nice thing to say about me.  If not, who could blame them.

This is the brief history of my life.  Perhaps yours is similar.

Remember that 2 Plus 2 Doesn’t Always Equal 4                                                                     [And please take time to read my original post to understand Why the Title of this Blog? (Feb. 17, 2011)]

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5 responses to “A Brief History of My Life

  1. Mine’s a little different–everyone’s is a little different. Born a few years earlier, different parents, had to move around as a child because my father got transferred as he was trying to work his way up the ladder in the company, until he realized he could go no further without a college degree. Of course, the rest of us had no say in the matter, because if we could have voted–I know that two of us would have opted to stay where we were to begin with.

    I haven’t spoken to him in years; the last time I saw him was at my brother’s wedding in 2003. I have no desire to speak to him (it’s a long story), but I do know one thing–I wouldn’t be where I am today without my mother–the other person who would have opted to stay where we were to begin with.

    And the parents without college degrees had three children: one with a Ph.D., one with a M.B.A., and one with a B.S. in Education. Two of them became teachers, one currently teaching 2nd grade and the other one college. I’ll let you figure out which one I am…but here’s a clue: while you express a concern about people coming to your funeral, I have no such concerns. I know nobody will come, because I’m not having one. My concern is who will have the challenge of cleaning out my office with the hundreds of books and making sure they all find good homes.

    • Hi Karen,
      Yes, if I filled in all of those days in between my birth and death it actually would be quite interesting to some. I think it is rather easy to guess which one you are of the three. I feel the same way about my math and physic books. To me they’re a treasure, but who knows what their future holds. I have actually written a real personal history. It does need to be updated. I think it’s about 18 years old. At the time I wrote it, I thought I was writing it for my posterity; I found out I was writing it for me. You’re a historian. Have you written a personal history?

      By the way, do you see these replies? Let me know. I’ve been wondering. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll post this on your wall.

      • Yes, I do see the replies. I just don’t check all the blogs every day–not even my own (of course, I get e-mail alerts when someone posts a comment; there was one time when I got really excited when I saw who left a comment on my blog–not that I don’t get excited when people leave comments on my blog, but this particular one made me smile).

        I once wrote a personal history; it was one of those “crisis of life” moments when I was turning 25 and in the midst of grad school (at the first–well, technically, second–college I attended for the Ph.D.). I have no idea whatever happened to it; it probably was tossed in the trash (or, given where I lived when I wrote it, burned in the furnace). Let’s just say I’m not where I thought I would be when I was 25–and I don’t mean geographically.

  2. You wonder why your daughter puts things like she does on her site. I like your other posts with much wisdom, thought, and fun.

    • Neal,
      I will keep that in mind. But you have to remember that sometimes I am just being funny in my own crazy way.

      Love your beautiful wife,
      Jeannie

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