I'm down here with my family in McDonough, GA. It's a crazy old time with family dynamics just running wild hither thither and yon. I talked to my dad tonight about some genealogy research he had done a few decades ago. Come to find out, one of my ancestors died at age 71, from "softening of the brain." It's right there on his death certificate. Sometime in the year 1886, my ancestor's brain softened, and he died. Another ancestor died of "arsenic poisoning during an episode of temporary insanity." Another ancestor was killed by Native Americans. This is my past, my friends. I can't escape it.
Bottom line? Let the chips fall where they may.
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