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Mother’s Day Memory I do a lot of my blog thinking and planning while I’m outside getting my steps, and that was the case yesterday. Regular readers already know that many of my blogs have their origins in reminiscences of things long past. In that regard, I’m blessed with having a very good memory. But yesterday I found a surprising hole in those otherwise trusty “little grey cells,” as Hercule Poirot called them. Some of you are probably thinking, “Here we go again. This is going to be about Evie!” Well, you’re certainly right on that score because Evie Busk is the only mother I ever had. She and my dad, Norman, are the people who made me who and what I am today, both literally and figuratively speaking. So when I was thinking about the Mother’s Day blog, naturally my thoughts turned to them. And that’s when I encountered my memory black hole I have no idea of how long either one of them has been gone. I don’t remember the exact years or the dates in questi

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