Jackson celebrates his Baptism with Family

       I kid you not, that is Pastor Brian on the guitar, before the "Jackson" shared his symbolic consciousness with not only his family, but with the whole of the congregation.

      Not that there was a Trinity going on, like Father, Son and Holy Ghost, but mind you for Bob and Myself, or maybe just for me, I was Bobbing and weaving as if Peter,

Paul and Mary were there in spirit, egging on Pastor Brian to reach out and touch everyone there in attendance.

        As Pastor Brian poured the "Holy Water" into the bowl, and the proud parents offered Jackson to join with the congregation, and the congregation rejoiced in their

responsibility to help support Jackson and his parents, we all took in the joys of the baptisms of Fire and Ice.  After the ceremony, we all joined each other outside to share the fellowship of community we all represented and

shared in refreshments as we continued the chatter.  After all was said and done, the family gathered and milled around Adele's home and filled our bellies with delight food

pairings, guffawing and enjoying the family picnic we had all so looked forward to sharing.






       That is by all accounts the experiences that I have accumulated over the years with my favorite Santa Rosa Clan, the Mortensen's. Together we all celebrated our new family member and christened ourselves with more little conversations about the

proportions of Icing to Cake, on Jackson's Holy Cross "Cake" Batman, as Cousin Linda and I took the lead in confessing our admiration for large portions of icing to small portions of cake.

        The kids fished in Adele's local pond, and cousin's grouped together for pictures they somehow don't get the time for, or put together the effort involved to achieve.  This time even Cousin Linda was more inclined to put up with such nonsense and lunacy.

         I had to oblige, and here, as God as our witness, the event took place.  This is Steven, the wandering photographer and literary gaffer, holding on tight to the slippery slopes of pandering group consciousness that litter the hallways of my mind from time to time, Child