🧠 They Forgot. I won’t.
One Pen. Six Grandsons. No Time to Waste.
Grandma Helen, Grandad Ben,
mom (Anna Lue), and dad (Bob)
Four steady hearts in the shade of an Oklahoma summer. The photo’s faded, but the memory isn’t. Not yet.
Most people start writing a book because they have something to say.
I started because I was afraid I wouldn’t remember how to say it.
I didn’t set out to write a memoir. I set out to outrun forgetting.
You see, dementia runs in my family like a cursed river. My great-grandfather died with senility, my grandfather died with Alzheimer’s, and my dad died with Lewy body dementia. And I’ve got six grandsons who might never hear the stories unless I write them down first.
So I started chasing memories—on bare feet, with busted handlebars and BB guns—and I wrote them down before they disappeared.
Some folks fight dementia with crossword puzzles. Me? I pick a fight with a blank page and try to win.
I don’t write because I’m famous. I write because they were.
My dad. My granddad. My hometown. The boys of Pearl Street.
People worth remembering.
Every story I tell is a punch thrown at forgetting.
And every time you share one, you throw a punch too.
They Forgot. I Won’t.
It’s short. It’s sharp. And it punches like a Gorilla slamming his fist on the porch railing—the same Gorilla that raised us, rattled us, and still roars in every story I write.
🛠️ Want to Join the Fight?
💬 Share this post with someone battling memory loss in their family
🗣️ Comment with your own story seed—what’s one moment you never want to forget?
💌 Subscribe for new chapters straight from the chat piles—and get a free copy of Full Speed Stupid,
a wild ride from Barefoot and Bulletproof: The Dirty Little Glover Boys.📸 Follow on Instagram for memory triggers and behind-the-scenes photos: @RealChatRat
👍 Join the conversation on Facebook: facebook.com/RealChatRat
❤️ Support dementia families through the Lewy Body Dementia Association
Every share is a punch thrown at forgetting.
Let’s roar louder—together.