My makeup am what I am

Good Gosh, The one great thing about the internet these days is in all available help and direction offered from so many directions of the compass to include philosophical, mechanical and most importantly people person to person. We're so blessed if we should open our minds, let us open our hearts to all the well beings.
Let me speak a minute moment about myself. When I suffer loss or the inability to openly help out-wardly I tend to withdraw for the inability to express myself(?), my feelings(?), my heart. A word may suggest a common sense environmental, or animal injustice and my ire may be lifted then my heart opens for speaking upon issues what can not be spoken for themselves.
I'm far from perfect and am as I am. It may go all the way back to my inability to understand my school lessons, particularly reading and writing. The good and bad in my personality's problems might have been born and polished by the seat of my pants on an oak bench I think was set in a hallway across from the principals office for a being such as myself who innocently suffered still an unnamed dyslectic kid.
What most I learned in that fifty and over student to teacher and crowded school, I'd never be bigoted to another human being reversably learned the beaten and stomped treatment I suffered for having the furor's sir name during WWII's war torn years. So, keeping the whole world’s population in prospective; regardless, a man’s color or creed we all bleed red and dream under the same blue sky…
Called after my son a couple times today before getting him on a land line. He sounds terrible. Two doctors differ in treatment. One wants him well cleaned out for another colonoscopy. The second physician wants to feed him a soft food diet and build some strength in him first. Lastly, and in my mind, the best yet a Psychiatrist. This kid has had a need to have his head examined for years.
The rest of our children along with us, shudder whenever it is announced they’re coming for a visit. That means either locking everything up or nailing it down. My DIL is lite fingered as Hell. She’s had the nerve to go through our rooms, drawers, picking up this’n’that and having the nerve to wear it her next visit to one of our homes. And if this isn’t already bad enough her churchy mother thinks her daughter’s misunderstood by the rest of us. It is one tough situation.
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Put in some late afternoon shop time. One bringing attention to a fork lift implement. Secondly I parked an 1850 in need a couple hours brake cleaning work. Thirdly I brought the old mower-conditioner out of the weeds to service for second cutting hay tomorrow Weather man says we got four days. That means 26 ½ acres are getting cut tomorrow.
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My hand worked reasonably well today. I’ve got three fingers and the thumb working. And, keeping the little fingers out of the way of any contact on anything, ouee…. BGKC.
Fernan