Not me, if for no other reason than those tight costumes would show thepackage I'm not packing.Meeting James makes me think about power, and how I got... mine ...In what of life's little ironies, my power relates to my family history.My great-grandfather was a paleontologist, and was involved in the "bonewars" in the Canadian badlands, where people went a little crazy fordinosaur bones. My grandfather was a tomb raider/archaeologist alaIndiana Jones, and my dad was a forensic anthropologist.Me, I. Your idea to ask him questions about what his honor demanded was the key, I think. That and the Army’s decision to deny him duty back east.”“Well, enough sitting out here, as pleasant as it is, I need to go freshen the rooms the Longstreets will be staying in for the next few months,” Anna said, taking her last drink of coffee, before picking JJ up and disappearing through the French doors.Deciding there were things I needed to be doing as well, I carried the coffee service to the dumb waiter. As I got off the bus, I realized just how nice a day it was. It was in the high seventies or low eighties, bright and sunny, and not too humid. I decided to walk home. I was all healed up and could be there in a couple of hours. That would make for a nice surprise when my parents showed up.I got to the house a couple of hours later and discovered a problem - Bobbie Joe wasn’t home! My Subaru was missing, as were Mom’s and Dad’s cars, and when I knocked on the door, the only sound I heard was. Nobody cared that she had never provided proof of ID. They just checked boxes and filled blanks and the system rolled on.On impulse, when he left the guest housing office, he returned to records management. He told the clerk he had an update for his records.Within ten minutes his DD Form 93 had been updated with a new address and phone number for Claudia Strangline, Bob's next of kin.Half an hour after that, he informed the SFAC that his sister had been called back home because of a family.