I moved out of there a week later. It was sort of a watershed moment in my life, truth be told. I realized my eventual fate, looking at Jerry that day. I couldn't avoid the sordid truth of my own life - you hang around trash you end up trash; or dead.

That little incident at the Troupeville Trailer Park changed my life - and perhaps saved it too.

I also came to understand in a visceral way, deep in the pit of my stomach and etched into my brain - how drunken fools end up killing one another over the most stupid bullsh#t.

I have little doubt - had Jerry been armed several people including myself, would have been killed that day. I was saved by my bulk and by my willingness to look madness in the eye and stand firm.

I was bolstered by the fact I knew in my bones, as I had previously frankly and a few times since, that I could STAND AND FACE the fall line. I wouldn't run.

Enjoying life in that my mom sent me home with scores of jars bearing the plum jam she makes every year. This round she added the perfect amount of sugar.

My parents planted the tree back in 1957 to honor a baby my mom lost, seven months into a pregnancy. They named her the same name you have, Leggs. My parents had five kids after that.

It's all about the rain, right Leggs?