Well, here goes, my name is Roy B. Tandy, son of Roy L. and Mamie
Marie. I’ve lived here since the mid-seventies, or half of my life.
Somehow it’s hard to say half-a-life, almost like I’m already
dead – maybe it’s better as half my life so far. Don’t know if it
sounds so good, but it sure feels better.

 I hope that you’ll enjoy my holding a candle up to my sometimes
“interesting” life-so-far. The times have certainly been interesting.
In just living the years since the “40’s” some of THAT excitement
was bound to rub off on me!

 I could tell you that I’m originally from a little town called New
Iberia, but that would be the first lie that I’d tell you. New Iberia
was only the big city (population 15,000) that was nearest our home.
Modest describes my early years in most respects, except maybe
imagination, I always seem to have had more than my share of that.
And, as anyone with an imagination can tell you, it’s not always a good
thing.

 When the biscuits ran out (those benefits provided under a father’s
roof), it was time to go for me – good news for Roy L. and Roy B., bad
news for Mama and sister Gordon. So, with the bayous in the rearview,
it was west to Montana, east to Delaware, and finally, home to Virgina.

 That’s enough for history, except to say that the harder you try to get
away from it, the sooner you’ll return. My sister has pushed me along this
story-telling path, and it remains to be seen whether blame or thanks are
in store for these letters from home.

Yours, Roy B.