Handing out apologies, like candy on a halloween night!

First let me say, I'm sorry about my last post, being all political and what not. Let me also say that I'm sorry about the post to follow this one, being all political and what not.

One night after dinner, Justin and Mellisa asked me to tell them something from my past. I drew a blank. After many years of trying to live the life of an enigma, I think it is time to hand out a few "I'm sorry"s. Some of these apologies are heart felt, even if I keep it lite and full of levity.

e⋅nig⋅ma

1.	a puzzling or inexplicable occurrence or situation: His disappearance is an enigma that has given rise to much speculation.

2.	a person of puzzling or contradictory character: To me he has always been an enigma, one minute completely insensitive, the next moved to tears.

3.	a saying, question, picture, etc., containing a hidden meaning; riddle.

I'm sorry for being such a puzzle.

As a young adult, I was ashamed of my life. I was so ashamed of being impoverished (poor), that I didn't take the time to notice that I was having fun and growing, too. The request that Justin and Mellisa had, too delve into my past, made me think about when I was a young man.

One year, for Christmas, when I was about ten or eleven, me and my Brother Steve, got a mini-bike too share. Two years later, it was a motorcycle. A 1968 Hodoka wombat 100cc. A motorcycle, now so rare that even Wikapedia hasn't a clue.

We may have been the first kids on the block to get a motorcycle, but we sure were not the last. Seems that my father was ahead of the curve when it comes to the dirt bike craze of the early seventy's, in Southern California. I never told him, thank you, and for this, I am truly sorry.

I'm sorry that I didn't let my boys (and my girls, if they wanted too) ride motorcycle, when they were young. It was my fault and not there Mothers.

I think it was because there is a small part of my brain, that loses oxygen when I sit on a motorcycle. Like the time I road a friends bike over a cliff, and angels had to come save me. I'm sorry you had to read that, Mom.

My Father was not always on top of things. It would be a waist of time to go into all the things that he did wrong, as a Father. But in one case, I have too speak up, and give an apology to my Sister, Reva.

My Father never bought anything new. Although he often spent more money repairing things, than it would have cost if he would have just bought it of the shelve.

One year for Reva's birthday, he picked up a bike at Goodwill (So Cal's D.I.). I happened upon him repainting the frame in the backyard. He choose avocado green, because he thought it was the most ugly color he could find (and it was), and he thought all teenagers would choose what he thought was ugly.

I'm sorry Reva, for not saying anything. I don't think you ever took that bike out of the yard.

I'm sorry that I watch so many boring T.V. shows, driving my family crazy.

I'm sorry I make fun of Dancing with the Stars, when the ladies in my home are watching.

I'm sorry that I have made fun of "High School Musical", even though I enjoyed having small parts in my high school musicals.

I'm sorry I hated Les Mizs (enough said).

I know that this is just a hand full of the things that I need to apologize, for. In my comments, your welcome to add to this list (it's true, I will do anything for comments).

Oh, and let me also say how sorry I am, that this post has no pictures and has gone on too long.

Love yah all, Boyd