A few days ago, a retired Army Bandsman visited work, Diana Appler. I thought I was the only one that had served with her previously, but I was mistaken. It turns out that three of us had served with her. I was surprised to find that she knew one of the newest members of our unit, Matt Buehler. When she asked Matt how he was doing, Matt's answer was: "Living the Dream.", in kind of a sarcastic manner. We all laughed, appreciably.

Tonight, my brother (Craig), his son, his girlfriend, and her daughter came over for a "family night". It was enjoyable. Good music, good conversation, pizzas on the grill, Craig and I did a "beer tasting" of various seasonal brews from the Samuel Adams brewery (5 beers; Craig, Amy and I split a bottle of each). The kids played with our youngest dog. They exhausted each other. It was a good night.

(The two instances do go together. Just give me a minute to explain.)

In the course of discussion, with my brother and his girlfriend, family stories came up. Craig and I told some of the more memorable ones: the cousin who was hit by an airplane (he was standing on the ground at the time), the cousin who ran over himself with his own truck, and my personal favorite, the cousin who fell off the bridge over the White River, in Newport, AR, and missed the river.

Craig and I pointed out how, functionally, many of our extended family treat Jeff Foxworthy's "You Might Be a Redneck If ..." material the way most people treat "Seven Habits of Highly Effective People".

Then, I took the conversation to a serious place, because Matt's phrase "Living the Dream" came to mind. I didn't say all that follows, but it came to mind.

None of my four grandparents, now deceased, ever graduated from high school. My maternal grandmother, the most educated of the bunch, was forced to quit school as a freshman in high school, to work on the family farm. The grandfather that I consider a "hero" had a 3rd grade education.

My parents were born in 1941.

My Dad was born in a one-room, dirt floor shack, without running water, or electricity, in the Coffeyville area, outside of Possum Grape, AR. One of his earliest memories is of his parents taking "shifts" holding the "baby" (the father of my cousin that missed the river) over the wood stove, at night. So, the baby would not freeze to death.

My mother talks about doing her high school homework by oil lamp, and how her parents bought their first vehicles in the 1960's.

I was in late elementary school when my maternal grandparents got running water in the house. Now, this was just the kitchen sink. They would not have water for a bathroom, or washing machine until I was in high school. I remember, as a child, getting water from the well for EVERYTHING in the house: drinking, cooking, bathing. I remember going with grandma to the laundromat to wash the clothes up until I was in high school, because the electricity in their house did not have the amperage to run a washer.

My dad, in his family, was the overachiever, in many ways. He completed most of one semester of college.

Mom was the first Alexander to graduate high school. Eventually, all of her generation did. She was just the oldest.

My maternal grandmother (who hated to travel) made a trip to our home to see me graduate from high school. I am sure, to this day, that she was the proudest person there. Her oldest grandchild was graduating high school. Her daughters were not a fluke. All three of the grandkids, on that side, graduated from high school, and went on to undergraduate work. Two of us finished undergrad work, and Craig almost finished it.

On the other side, I am one of 22 grandchildren. Of the 9 grandsons, I am, chronologically, in the center. I was the third grandchild of 4 to earn an undergraduate degree. I hope to join my cousins, Lynn (grandson) and Terry (granddaughter), in the next year or two, as the only ones to have graduate degrees.

So, I sit here in my house (indoor plumbing; central heat; electric stove, and water heater; washer and dryer; digital cable; high speed internet; digital phone, dishwasher, garbage disposal, two-car garage (with a vintage VW in it, my project car) with electric garage door opener; fireplace (because it is a LUXURY, not a necessity). My two older pedigree dogs are crashed out (BTW, they were born in Panama, and their sire was a Panamanian show champ). My young pedigree dog (Gimli) is a rarity in the US. A standard sized, wire-haired dachshund, of German breeding. (To put it in perspective, Gimli is the dachshund equivalent of custom ordering your Porsche to German (Autobahn) specifications, picking it up at the plant, traveling with it on the boat to the US, and, then, taking it for a spin on the Interstate.) My Palm Treo (smartphone/PDA) is within arm's reach. My wife's PDA is charging. The desktop computer is sitting unused, because, even though the 24 inch flat screen monitor is nice, it is not as fast as the laptop I am using through the wireless router.

Oh, and I forgot, we are contemplating buying a new car for my wife, as a college graduation gift. The car in question will, probably, cost more than the first house my father bought.

This is not bragging.

This is the sharing of the results of my introspection.

Tonight, it hit me ... "Living the Dream" ... am I?

I could only arrive at one answer.

YES, I AM.