My name is Nelson Rutherford Whiteside, ninety-seven years young, to be ninety eight April first when I will require a renewal of an automobile operational driver's license. Today is January 19th of the year 2021, less than four months from that DMV visit. I don't think I will be purchasing one of those electric cars to replace my old truck once I successfully secure my renewed license. Life is good among those joyfully residing above dirt. I am the last surviving family elder. Guess there is something to be said about this. Gratitude for one. I am no longer one of those young whippersnapper octogenarians. The eighties are in my rearview mirror by some seventeen years. I am now what they have dubbed a centenarian. I have experienced what many can never lay claim to in these modern times of living for the moment. My driver's license expires then. I suppose I will have to take those tests, written and driving, to prove to the naysayers that I am no threat to their safety. The best truck I have ever owned bit the dust last month. She had nearly 400,000 miles under her belt before throwing a rod. I reckon buying one of those new ones is not so intriguing to me. I am thinking about undertaking one of those leases they advertise. It would be a hoot seeing the look on one of those car salesmen's faces when I say I am gambling I run the table and make it to the end of the lease agreement. I am blessed with good health and a dementia free mind as best I can recollect. I am not bragging. My old body is not that of an eighty-year-old, but I can get around without the use of a cane or walker. I live by my lonesome. I shop and do my own cooking. What I cook is not half bad, but I am the only critic, and I am not that hard to please. I manage my bills and have never been late on a payment a single time. I attend church regularly and volunteer more than most of those younger folks with a perception that their life is more important that serving the Lord. I always pay my church tithes, often giving more than my ten percent. Not a braggart just a man who lives by the golden rules and having respect and love for God Almighty. By the sound of it I have a new text on my smart phone. That dang contraption is a lot smarter than me. Just because I am old doesn't mean the old dog can't be a trick pony, if that makes any sense. I like modern technology. It makes life mostly easier than back in the way yonder when we did not have all the creature comforts that we have today. Reckon I ought to check that text. Gut tells me it is probably that great grandson of mine, David. He has this notion that he wants to learn all the family business. By family business I mean the history of our family, the good, bad, and ugly of it. He wishes to document it, to preserve it for generations to come. I guess I cannot blame him for wanting to this because I am the one responsible for baiting and setting the hook. I have often shared stories with him from my fondest memories of growing up in a time long forgotten. I told him when old people die so do the stories and precious memories. He has gathered the pale and plans to milk this old cow for what it is worth. Seems I can forget what happened just yesterday or even today, but I can visualize those long-ago yesterdays like they were frozen in time. If he is ready to do this for preservation purposes, I am willing to make sure he gets his money's worth. Proud to do so. The Whitesides are not like most families. David is going to be shocked by what this bunch has done. FFF is what my daddy called forced family fun when it came to get 'togethers' with family. Our family had a reputation for showing up out of the blue. Sometimes we recognized them as blood kin. Sometimes we had to just take their word. Those that we weren't sure about usually came around for reasons other than just being family friendly. Telling it like it happened is the only way to let it fly. You can't pretty it up. God bless this fam