Monthly Archives: September 2023

Cause of Death Goldie Estelle Morrill Day Kent (January 13, 1931 – June 27, 2023)

I don’t know exactly what title to give this one and I’d like your help in discerning exactly what the cause of death was. Regardless, it was a needless death. My Aunt Goldie was strong willed. She was a staunch supporter of vaccines and another victim.

A Needless Death

She also died of a broken heart and a broken spirit as her son and his wife took over and commandeered the couple prematurely into Assisted Living against their will. The facility was fantastic but in my opinion it was unnecessary. My Aunt Goldie fought the placement. Did “the children” as she referred to them set them up for this premature early demise or? Let’s consider the following.

First, My Aunt Goldie was a strong woman and strong willed. Look at the names! That alone is a clue as her personality. Now, I don’t wish to denigrate My Late Aunt’s personality but she was too hard, far too hard on My Uncle Roy and her treatment of her second husband certainly led to an early demise and a broken spirit and a man so compromised he could no longer think for himself as to what was best for himself and his (second) bride.

He could no longer think in his best interest.

Second, I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes but I do want to save lives. Was she murdered? Or suicided? Bear with me here.

I love everyone and want to help–it’s my pathology. I will not deny it. Even if my enemy was suffering I would help them.

The cause of death given me was a stroke. If that is accurate, it was an extremely merciful death. As it was My Aunt Goldie had TWO AGGRESSIVE HYPER CANCERS! One the size of a baseball; the other the size of a softball. Believe me, going out by either one of those would have been far more agonizing than merely stroking. Heck, many strokes are never even felt! A stroke was merciful after her immune system was destroyed by “the best medical treatment” available.

Hyper Aggressive Cancers

I heard My Aunt Goldie had been in a coma in the hospital for two weeks prior to her sudden demise. A coma in which she was able to voluntarily move her hand and arm was strange enough and I will not repeat what I have written previously elsewhere. You may read that in an earlier blog entry as an attachment (It was in my report mandated by NH when one suspects Elder Abuse and Financial Exploitation.).


On the other hand, was My Aunt Goldie one of the victims of the genocide and mass murder associated with the last pestilence? Which was a Bioweapon.


Released by the CCP. Crafted up in Level 4 Biolabs all over the world. Mass produced in the Biolabs in the eastern Ukraine along their border with Russia. Distributed by Big Pharma at the behest of our DoD which made the COVID-19a Bioweapon also known as SARS-CoV-2? Our DoD also manufactured the “treatment” which was their other Bioweapon; the damned vaccines!

Our Department of Defense [DoD]

Planned by the Federal Reserve System in Jackson Hole the summer before release? Deployment? Paid for by the US taxpayers?

Federal Reserve System

I would have done anything for My Aunt Goldie including returning to Tolend Road in Dover and assisting them to remain independent in their own home. That’s what My Aunt Goldie and I “conspired” to do together. But My Uncle Roy would have nothing to do with that–as his stepson’s wife was calling the shots.

Stockholm Syndrome

So, was it Assisted Suicide by Cop? No but it was akin to that. It was Assisted Suicide by our illustrious FDA and the WHO.

Assisted Suicide or Murder?

FDA stands for “Federal Death Administration” and that World Health Organization of the UN is nothing more than the communist Red Purge and take down of America!

Federal Death Administration

Since 2009 my second radio show on KFNX 1100 AM Talk Radio out of Phoenix I have been warning about this “Federal Death Administration” but no one listens. Regardless, the Number One Cause of Death in the United States is the Medical Profession and I don’t think they are all “accidents!”

The International Bankers

Had My Aunt Goldie listened to me I could have saved her. But she was too busy bossing her husband around and abusing My Uncle Roy and tearing him down psychologically so that her family could Financially Exploit My Uncle Roy that she would not hear me.

The Communist Red Purge and Take Down of America!

So far, we’ve lost 1/6th of the Earth’s population to this planned scourge and attack. The Bible says clearly a FULL THIRD would pass in this FIRST scourge, this first pestilence. As of June we’ve had 1,070,000,000 deaths to date.

1,070,000,000 Deaths to Date as of June

The Chinese whistle blower doctor who worked at Wuhan revealed there is a still “hidden payload” to go off in their Bioweapon known as COVID-19! When that is triggered expect another one-sixth of the population of the world to go under in fulfillment of this first pestilence prophesied in “The Book of Revelations” in the New Testament of the Bible to kill 1/3rd of us around the world.

The #1 Cause of Death in the US is the Medical Profession.

That’s just the FIRST pestilence in Revelations. We have one more to go through in which we will lose another third! Isn’t it time you read the Bible?

A SECOND THIRD of the population of the entire world passes in the NEXT pestilence!


Buy one of mine. It is the best Bible in the world and I offer it at the lowest price anywhere:



Today (or yesterday) we begin killing the king! We kill “Burger King” once and for all! We take down the brand AND the corporation behind it and the corporations behind that!


We KILL THE KING! for all men and women. We take down the elite censors and end censorship around the world! We establish FREE SPEECH for all peoples everywhere.


No mercy for the BURGER KING! Destroy BURGER KING! Remove all traces of their brand and their corporation from the face of the earth! No quarter anywhere! We destroy BURGER KING once and for all.

Stop eating BURGER KING!


FIRST AMENDMENT FREE SPEECH RIGHTS FOR THE WORLD! STOP THE CENSORSHIP at all levels everywhere and we start by taking the king’s head! Off with BURGER KING’S HEAD!


Stop the violent speech against men! Stop the lies, slanders and innuendos! End the Anti-Bias! Stop the ridicule of men worldwide!


If you want to STOP THE VIOLENCE against women and children, how about stopping the violence against men!


Meeting Wayne Stackhouse (August 30, 1943 – August 14, 2023) A Friend for Life

When I met Wayne Stackhouse who’s middle name was Albert, I had no idea I was meeting a friend for life and a man who would have such tremendous impact upon me. Wayne was a soft spoken man who had an influence upon me which made me a better man, a far better man than I was.

Wayne Albert Stackhouse

I look up to three or four men who had great impact in shaping me. Men whom I took after, whom I sought to emulate. Those include my father and My Uncle Roy who recently passed away in New Hampshire at age 98 on September 12th. There were other men. Most of them were hunters and fishers. Some were supervisors and a few became mentors.

Wayne neither became a supervisor nor a mentor. He became a friend and a friend for life. We often went shooting skeet at Fort Richardson or Birchwood. We got to hunting in Arizona but none of it was enough. It was not much and never enough.

I had just moved into his father-in-law’s six-plex in Spenard and it was a step up from my previous abodes. I had covered parking which was a big deal in the winter time. My neighbors were nicer than my neighbors at the larger apartment complex I had previously lived at. It had central vacuuming which was a luxury step up as well. The carpets were the longer shag style at the time and the kitchen colors were full strength autumnal colors.

I had stupidly plugged up the vacuum system which emptied in the lower level basement and Joe Graham told me he’d send his son-in-law over to take care of it as Wayne took care of all of Joe Graham’s properties. I wasn’t much of a handy man and I have never been that talented. My brother inherited all of those skills and I had none. Wayne fixed it. He emptied the Styrofoam peanuts I had foolishly tried to vacuum up with it.

Wayne never said a word even though it was a dumb move on my part and it wasn’t the last time I did the same thing. The same darned thing. Either the peanuts were white or pink packing materials. They were a nuisance with the static electricity of winter prevailing and I am sure I was a nuisance to Wayne as I kept him busy. Little did I know that quiet, reserved man was going to become such a good friend and motivate me to being a better man.

He was one of those men you are drawn to as he had deep respect. For others, for animals and he was thoughtful. Talk about “role models,” Wayne was one, an excellent one. We were ten years apart in age and stayed in touch with each other over the next four decades.

Wayne was an avid sportsman and I always felt safe around him. He handled guns better than most and knew a lot more than I. He never did pull out his collection of pre-64 Winchesters for me. He had ’em tucked away and rarely spoke of his collection or his wealth.

He wasn’t very wealthy when I met him. At least not financially but he certainly was wealthy in terms of character and values. I think we both admired Joseph Graham who also was unassuming and spoke little but always had important things to say as he admonished us to support the best causes and people.

Joe had a tough time with cancer and had to avoid the sun due to the chemotherapy but Joe beat that grape fruit sized tumor and came out on top. Then Joe passed. Wayne and I were often on the phone. It took months for Wayne maybe even a full year for him to learn all of the ins and outs of the vast wealth he’d inherited from his wife’s father.

It stressed Wayne terribly. He’d have to meet with the attorneys and spent days with them absorbing it all, learning it all, trying to comprehend his newly expanded and enlarged world. As Wayne said, Joe pays more in taxes than most people made. Joe had been a merchant marine and a damn hard worker all of his life. He’d been on the Anchorage Municipality Council and dabbled in politics. I remember Wayne calling me seeking relief just struggling to adjust. He felt like he was still just plain ole Wayne. He liked the simple life. Joe made his life more complicated.

More than that. Wayne just plain missed Joe. Joe’s wife Sophia was a tiny woman. One of those small powerhouses. You know, the kind with a spirit so large you felt like a huge bear was present in the room. Joseph was a tall man and he had a large heart, a great sense of humor.

Wayne was another man with a large heart and I did my best to keep him calm over the phone. I assured Wayne that he’d get it all down and master Joe’s domain. Likewise, I wish Wayne’s daughter Jennifer whatever she needs to adjust to the loss. Actually both losses as she lost her mother Ilene a week after he father’s passing.

Ilene’s passing was expected. Wayne had just placed her into hospice. He had taken real good care of his wife. I think Ilene may have been a year or two older than he but she was smitten with him and they were both very much in love. Ilene was one of those women from the generation that took impeccable care of their homes. Damn, it was so clean that one wanted to take one’s shoes off at the door and leave the winter snow and gunk outside. She just was a fantastic and fussy housekeeper.

Wayne always kept the yard nice too. He was overly responsible when it came to things lite that. Even the little things. I hated it when he told me he’d got into an argument with his power saw and it cut up his hand, damn near mangled it, but he fought to heal it up and recovered nicely. Better than my other friend who sold me his prized .44 Mag after he too mangled his right hand with another damned power saw. Seems like my Great Uncle George Kent who was the very first Kent to arrive in the old territory lost a hand in Ketchikan in a sawmill accident in 1949.

Wayne was a good man. He took care of his brother-in-law when heart surgery was required. He took care of everyone but himself. Sadly, I emulate that trait. I tried over what seemed like 10 years but was really only merely five years to get Wayne to take time for himself and take care of himself, but Wayne like My Uncle Roy was dedicated to his wife and ne’er thought of himself. Unfortunately, Wayne wore himself out and down.

Not merely burnout but strained from his constant attention to his mate of many years. He did not want to lose Ilene. Wayne told me once that Ilene remarked to him how she was lucky to have him. Indeed, she was. We all were.

Within what seemed like a week after placing his dearly beloved into hospice, Wayne gave out. He called me on the phone trying to attend to my needs rather than his own.

Wayne sounded terribly congested and I had to tell my friend to get in and take care of himself. I don’t know what more I could have said. I feared for my friend’s life but I didn’t want to panic him. I hadn’t heard from Wayne and he’d called because he was working on an affidavit for me.

I finished reading a look on General Patton that contained details on all of Patton’s great battles I knew Wayne would love to read. The book was not all that accurate but nonetheless, as a Vietnam vet I knew Wayne would love reading about ole blood and guts.

Finally, September 8th, the date the book was to be delivered came and went. I had a hunch. I did not want to face it. After not hearing from Wayne for darn near a month, I checked on the internet. Sure as hell, Wayne had passed away and before his lovely wife. I don’t think anyone expected that. We were all used to Wayne always being there, especially for us!

Wayne Stackhouse was one of those rare true friends. It saddens me to lose Wayne. He’d lost his spleen in Vietnam and I knew and he knew towards the end of his life he was warned he’d not have as much energy.

I got to know Wayne well enough that he finally talked about his time in Vietnam. As an Army brat I knew you just don’t ask a man, you never ask a man about what happened in the war. Nevertheless, I listened carefully as he revealed his deepest wounds to me after being friends for many years.

Wayne told me how he was the only man of his squad to survive. Everyone else died. He said he often lamented that the military couldn’t give him a bolt action rifle like one of his old Winchesters because they were right out of range and he couldn’t reach them with the puny automatic rifle the Army had strapped them with. My Dad often lamented the smaller cartridge the Army had selected as just under powered to do the job.

Wayne was his squad’s radio man. He’d often just carry a .45 pistol but the only reason he survived and he said “we were getting our asses kicked over there” is because his large buddy, a Black man had died over him. And when the Viet Cong went through executing the survivors the enemy could not see him. His intestines were blown wide open and his fellow warrior and friend had bled out into him. The doctors didn’t think Wayne was going to survive.

I am so glad he did and so glad I got to know Wayne. I shall miss him. One of the best friend’s a man could ever have. Wayne helped me shape myself up over the years. Little did I know when we met that I would be going through some rough times. Wayne was there for me. I wish he was around and we could go hunt quail again. I’d love to tell Wayne of my challenges and successes and thank him for being there for me. Truly, he was the brother I never had.

I get to write and post some pretty weird stuff here in my blog. I am outlandish and take my thinking to the outside. Like Wayne, I want to help others more than I want to help myself. Next go around if there is another I would ask, beg Creator Father Yahweh God for another Wayne Stackhouse in my life. actually, I’d want more but I’d settle for one more conversation with my friend.

It seems like a running theme in my life. You never know when the last time you are going to talk to a person will be. Do take time, extra time for those dear to you. Those who have touched your life and made you better than anyone else ever thought you’d become. Wayne was better than my own parents when it came to shaping me. My parents really liked Wayne Stackhouse. As the folks often admonished me be careful who your friends are. Wayne was pretty much the best. Yes, just about the best.

Wayne Stackhouse was such a good man, a great man that I am thinking he made it. He was approved and earned his reward, the prize. I am certain I will see my dear friend again. Wayne, you were a better man, a far better man than I. I miss you and love you, my dear friend.

An Open Letter to Senator Richard Blumenthal (The Interplanetary Trade of Humans with Other Species!)

Having just seen a couple of minutes of your presentation, I want to apologize to you for even slighting you. Certainly, you are bearing a burden most Americans could not handle. I don’t even want to go there to the places and the information you have been privy to!

Thank you for your service and the tremendous burden under which you have been placed. May you be granted all the support Yahweh and his angels can muster. I, myself, could not handle the information to which you have been entrusted.

All Life upon the Earth

Please help us to understand. I know, I see you are a graceful man and you choose your words carefully. Knowing the terrible secrets to which you have been exposed and forced to endure, I am grateful knowing your concerns for America and for all life on earth.

The Earth Groans for her Saviors

Please forgive those of us who know so little. Who have been kept in the dark and fed bullshit by these administrations and tyrants since the inception of at least the Federal Reserve System. We still want justice. With so much complexity where do we begin?

Even our Bible tells us of the “trade” with Orion and the Pleiades! This terrorizing and eating upon humans has to be stopped!

The Book of Job

In the oldest book in the Bible, The Book of Job, we are told of the interplanetary trade and this “meat market” can no longer be kept secret!

Please advise,


Dr. Kent

The Coming Weather for the Florence, Arizona Area (132 F)

This is a story, an accounting of what my neighbor Bill Poe told me in about 2002. Bill Poe was an odd man. He was very unusual. He’d never had a driver’s license yet he drove the state all of the time. I don’t know if he was literate. That is, I don’t know if he could read or how well he could read. He had trouble in school and from what I can recollect he never finished school.

Yet, he was a fairly well to do man. As he and his brother or bothers and siblings lived off their mother. She owned water rights and apparently a small water business. Her other son built her a custom house he designed with huge logs in the desert. Bill didn’t like the house because it was impractical but it certainly was a jewel in the desert.

Bill said that the temperatures were going to go up drastically in the area. Instead of highs approaching 118 F and even the dreaded 121 F, Bill said “The Old Farmer’s Almanac” which he revered said that temperatures would exceed 130 F, even hitting an occasional 132 F! He said to expect it in the 2030’s which is coming right up.

This summer my neighbor who lives here year round said that they’d seen winds of 100 MPH this summer. Now, winds in the area typically are practically non-existent in the area during the winters. One used to be able to leave one’s awnings out and not worry about the wind damaging those while went went off for the day.

But in the last four winters the winds have been coming up so that the only ones who dare leave their awnings out are those who anchor those to either the ground or their concrete pads with cement bolts! So, we are observing these drastic changes in weather.

Now, Bill Poe wasn’t known for being a nice guy. He was very shrewd and became known to have put the screws to his business “partners.” In short, Bill took advantage of them and it was best not to enter into any business enterprise with Bill Poe, but he was my next door neighbor and an odd character–just what you’d expect from an area producing the likes of the last cowboys.

He always wore a cowboy hat. Typically a white one and often a well ventilated one made of stiff straw material. He always drove an F-150 pickup truck and it too was white. He was a very practical man. So, he relied upon “The Old Farmer’s Almanac.”

As I said, I wasn’t sure if Bill could actually read but he claimed to have studied “The Old Farmer’s Almanac” and since his family’s wealth was in water it only made sense. Bill was a hustler. And he was a womanizer. He was a dominant sort of a man and only drank coffee even when he was out at the bars. He’d had enough trouble drinking in the past and he claimed he’d never “lost” his driver’s license; he’d just never had one to start with!

Bill claimed her started driving well before the usual age. I am sure he did. He never exceeded 55 MPH that I know of and he always took his time. Heck, I don’t think he’d ever been stopped or even in an auto accident. He always had several women going at one time. He had the morals of an alley cat.

Nevertheless, Bill was practical pig. If he didn’t absolutely have to have it, he didn’t want it. There was only one kind and make of vehicle and that was a Ford pickup. He really liked the King Cab with its yards of leather and four doors.

Bill never claimed there was anthropomorphic (man made) global warming. There was just “The Old Farmer’s Almanac” and the fact that weather shifted across the face of the earth. Those high temperatures in the Middle East were swapping places with the American desert southwest.

Now, I don’t believe in man made global warming either. Either we are waging “weather wars” or the earth is in a peculiar place as our solar system revolves around the galaxy. It is in fact both! Nicola Tesla started the weather modification and the Dust Bowl of the Depression of 1929 and he’d killed a lot of people. Indeed, Tesla was a mass murderer yet he was revered and no one seems to care about the hundreds of deaths he’d caused with his storms and tornadoes not to mention the sheer destruction of crops and farm land.

The weather has gotten out of control. As one of the lead geoengineers warned it would if the volcanoes got active. And they have. In the next decade we are going to observe and experience those temperatures above 130 degrees Fahrenheit in Coolidge and Florence. Water is going to become more scarce and valuable.

People get even with leaders and misleaders.

Weather modification and secret government and corporate programs will no longer be secret. Folks will be chasing down politicians and leaders and corporate criminals. That’ll be the new “Big Game” hunting and “trophy hunting” as people get even with leaders and misleaders.

The big bang or absolute destruction occurs about October 16, 2046 as the anniversary of Noah’s Flood will be reached. The sun’ll blow once again and everything will start anew after the destruction and the “purification” of the earth exactly as those two Russian physicists said in the previous century.

The Earth groans for her Saviors.

There’s no anthropomorphic global warming. There’s just man’s stupidity. There’s deception upon deception, fraud upon fraud. And nothing will matter except staying warm and fed and watered. A new Earth Age will have begun like lots have been done before as the Earth ceases to groan for her saviors and men become rare again.

I wonder how long it will take and what shape it will take before men start to once again roam in F-150’s in search of lonely women? Sure seems like that’s what motivates men and women to begin to get along with each other. It’s too bad it has to decay and get to the low points we live today. Too many people only care about their hustle to take the time to enjoy their day.

Thank You, Yahweh!

Thank you, Yahweh for my food and my drink. Let’s do better next time. We’ve sure made a mess of the place. No wonder You designed the place to recycle itself. It’s so beautiful yet we make it so ugly. We make everything ugly even though You make all for Your enjoyment. How’d we do this time?

My Recently Posted Photo with My Uncle Roy

As you can see I am an old man. My friends have been bugging me for a while to post a better photo. I have been enjoying the fact that no one knows who I am and no one recognizes me until I speak.

My voice is an odd sounding one. It is the result of mastoiditis secondary to German measles (or perhaps vaccine damage) and an incredibly painful childhood suffering at the hands of everyone in my family.

I don’t want anyone to suffer as I have suffered. To that end I am taking on the tasks of saving the American Family and America. Which at this point means saving the World.

My Mom used to tell me perpetually when I was a child: “Stop saving the World.” I guess in an awkward and unusual sense I am a rebel.

I did not want to come into this world and I can’t wait to go back and see my older brother. Yes, Yahshua the Messiah.

When I was 19 I died and I was greatly relieved. I was completely at peace. I accepted it. But Creator Father Yahweh would have none of it and He ordered me back!

Join me as I fulfill His Mission, my mission for this life. Let’s throw the Bastards out and restore America to what it was only Better Than Before!

In His service,

At your service,

John Taylor

Roy Elbridge Kent Obituary Guestbook

July 7, 2022

Linked to Roy E. Kent’s Obituary at the Funeral Home he founded.

Now I am the oldest surviving Kent; I regret not having spent more time with My Uncle Roy E. Kent.  The family stopped me from visiting My Uncle Roy every step of the way.  That includes Jay Kent and the Day’s, Don and especially Lois. 

Three times I traveled across the country three years in a row in hope of spending time with My Uncle Roy.  I wanted to learn as much as I could (and still do) about my family.  My Uncle Roy was the last one I could turn to.  I have been deprived.  My Uncle Roy was instrumental in me turning my life around.  Not that he was helpful; he was honest and direct.  Sadly, that was not the case at the end of his life; he was a broken man. 

As a retired Corrections Clinical Psychologist I understand why the “family” kept me away from him.  It was so I would not be able to assess his status and interfere with their plans.  This includes the man who claims to be my brother, Jay E. Kent. 

My Uncle Roy suffered terribly as the hands of his wives, especially his second wife.  And her son Don Day did nothing to stop her.  As a result My Uncle Roy developed and suffered Stockholm Syndrome.  When I visited him and spent time with him at Watkins Field, I observed him and I was disheartened.  I have helped many people in my life but I felt helpless as I watched him in his interactions with others.  At least now My Uncle Roy no longer suffers–at the hands of the Day’s. 

In February My Aunt Goldie was exuberant that I would return home and help them go back in their home on Tolend Road.  But, My Uncle Roy was deep under the influence of Lois Day and he would not entertain the thought to do anything contrary to what Lois Day wanted.  Such is the lot and the plight of those who overly identify with their captors like Patty Hearst did when she became Tanya.  My Uncle Roy had lost the ability to think in his own best interest!  Instead, everything became an extension of what was best for his pseudo-wife, Lois Day. 

Now, I lost a lot in this matter but it is the time not spent with My Uncle Roy that bothers me most.  When I last saw Lois Day, she and her husband had kicked me off My Uncle Roy’s property unbeknownst to My Uncle Roy.  Moreover, Lois Day accused me of Elder Abuse which is what she was doing and had been doing!  She insisted upon having this argument in front of My Uncle Roy who had no idea what was going on.  That was abusive.  I would be damned if I argued with her in front of him adding to her abuse and control of My Uncle Roy and aiding and abetting her!

Finally, Lois Day’s real motivation came out and she demanded to know: “What makes you think you have anything in this inheritance?”  Well, apparently I am being cheated out of that, too; and I am real family, real blood, a real relative.  She is not.

My Uncle Roy called me in about 1986.  He and My Aunt Alice wanted me to take the land that My Grandfather Ralph E. Kent always told me would be mine.  However, as a starving musician trying to establish myself and living on $16,000 a year in Anchorage I could ill afford to pay the $3,000 taxes on the property at Adam’s Point and move to protect the last of the Kent 1649 land grant from the King of England. 

My Aunt Alice and Uncle Roy were tired of the college students burning the camp each summer.  So, My Uncle Roy wanted to sell my inheritance and put that money towards their new house in Rollinsford, NH and he was going to care of me later. 

Well, that time has come.  Yet, on each of three days in a row visiting My Uncle Roy in Assisted Living he cried to me that his wife Goldie forced him to change his will and leave everything to her family and none of it to his family.  He said he wanted to change it back to include me and my brother.

Now, My Uncle Roy was a very wealthy man—even richer than his second wife who herself was astoundingly wealthy in her own right.  She had owned much of downtown Dover, NH. She sold her house and My Uncle Roy insisted she deposit the money in her bank account while he bought the property on Tolend Road with his funds alone.

The Richest Man in Dover

My Uncle Roy was the wealthiest man in Dover.  If not, he certainly was the wealthiest man in Dover who came by it honestly.  I was forced to leave My Uncle Roy and NH by Don and Lois Day.  It was Lois Day’s errant allegations in which she projected her sins and crimes upon me which drove me to leave My Uncle Roy’s side.

My Uncle Roy’s funeral is going on right about now.  I could not afford the first trip I made earlier this summer to be there for My Uncle Roy as he buried his second wife, My Aunt Goldie.  I know of no other man who was married for 70 years of his life of 98 years.

Sadly, as small as our family is the Kent’s tend to pass in clusters of three.  First, My Aunt Goldie in June.  Now, My Uncle Roy this month.  Who is next?  Me?  My brother?  Our sister? Or one of the Day’s?

Honest and direct just like My Uncle Roy,

Dr. Kent

19 September 2023