Capt. Meriweather Lewis, Manic-Depressive?

I don't think so, my GP, neurologist (for acute restless leg), and VA doctor have never mentiomed it, but I've never specifically asked. I'll ask whenever I next see them--if I remember? When I was young, my father (who had many qualities too) would on occassion go into red-faced rages. Sometimes I didn't even know why. He never beat me, he'd just slug me once as hard as he could. At times, when red-faced; he'd put his face in mine with his clenched fist there too, saying "There is plenty more there where than came from". Dad thought getting mad was "manly"; though he had no other "he-man" issues.

As a youth, on rare occassions I'd get into rages, mostly by my self, never with my parents (afraid to, but the desire was there); but unlike dad I saw rages in a man as weakness, childish, and undersirable. I had constand terrible headaches that existed despite, not because of my temper. Temper just made it worse. I'm spiritual (not in the common religion sense, I simply believe in God; a god that I question if He believes in me individually, or mankind collectively? I believe it important that no man worships himself, nor mankind worships itself; that there is something bigger, more important than ourselves individually, or collectively. My grandmother worshipped doctors. I don't worship them either).

At age 26, though I did not myself, nor see myself as a bad man; neither did I like myself, nor see myself as a good man. Never a desire to be a saint; but I really wanted to be a better person; so quietly, without physicians, medicines, traditional religions, I simply changed.

One thing that helped: one summer afternoon, this then youth lay atop his up-stairs bed, looking out the open windows towards blue sky and skudding clouds and the lovely top of a tree, swaying in the breeze. I was half-asleep, and it was as if I left my body  and was looking down at myself abed, my eyes down there grieving. I felt a kinship with that soul below, but in the same way as if that was any human grieving there. I decided to try to become a friend of that person sorrowing person below; be it I, or others. After that, if I got into an argument, be it my fault or anothers; I suddenly jump out of my skin and look at the situation as if a third party obsever, "with no dog in the fight". This had a calming effect on me; even sometimes the other party. My father could only see things through his eyes, and his eyes only.

The headaches would continue, constantly, perhaps 30 more years and slowly disipate. Almost never again did added rage make it worse. I just did not rage.

My mother's family of many children had a pecking order; the dominent ones told the less dominent one what they could, or could not say. Mother did it to me. About age 40 I started comeing out of my "shell" (mother was long ) and telling about my childhood as I saw it, just matter of factually. Many people just do not want to hear such--so usually, unless there was real need, I did not go there. My uncle was a retired colonel and he'd tell you what he wanteed to here, and what he did not want to hear. I assumed he never knew dad slugged me; and I also assumed he would not want to hear it.

One day I told him; he said to my surprise, that when my parents were age 17 and secretly marriied, he was about age 12 and behind them on the sidewalk. He said something my future dad did not want to hear, and dad slugged him aloft. My uncle said he believed me--no criticism.

Lastly, if interested, I'll tell you about an unusual judge, likely ; who never knew he did it; who stopped dad from what would have become my last slugging. To escape the hell of home, I joined the Navy, age 17. After dad's second wife died, I moved him to my town and the appartment next to mine, and became his care-giver.

Before dad died, he said "he lived his life wrong" and he'd become to admire me.

I tennis, but I loved the man; Arthur Ashe, Jr., and just finished his book "Days of Grace". Dad loved tennis; had the man that died, my father read that book; I think dad would have admired Arthur too.