Been told I should post this. And, you know, blog.
Aaaahhh, back in the day.
When the whole family went to church for three hours every Sunday morning, and grandma just stayed and prayed so hard for another two hours for someone to get her off the kneeler.
When children went outside, and with nothing more than a cardboard box, 37 pounds of black powder, and a dream, built a rocketship to the stars.
When the neighborhood dog, suspiciously well fed in a neighborhood bereft of songbirds, would lick your face when he saw you on the way home from the measles party and two weeks before the measles party.
When a man took care of his family by giving his paycheck to his high school sweetheart who then used it to pay bills and buy cleaning supplies and groceries and make supper and wrap Joey’s skinned knees in ducttape until next Thursday because Dad’s dues were due for his duties at the Kiwamoose Club.
When mother watched her stories on the television, wrapped in a blanket on the couch cross-legged, like an Native American tribal leader, hands nowhere to be seen.
When little girls took 17 hours to make a cupcake with a 40W bulb, and when boys read adventure books such as the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew crossover Nancy Has To Go See Her Aunt For The Next Eight Months, and Tom Swift Goes Frog-Gigging.
I may cry. Hold me.
By the way, read the Zombie and the Beer Snob. Coupla decent cats.
