God Bless America

After the almost tragedy of being held back a grade, I spent Memorial weekend at my aunt Evaline's house. We had food and swimming and card-playing and dominoes and ice cream and volleyball and all sorts of other good things worthy of my time.

My cousins and I were everywhere. Upstairs. Downstairs. Outside. In the pool.

There was kid stuff everywhere. (Now that I am a parent, I can imagine the nightmare that all was.)

The ladies took care of the food. And the cleaning.

The men took care of the dominoes and the cards and the sitting and the eating.

You can imagine this made my mother feel just peachy.

I'm running around and having a good time. My dad is sitting and having a good time. Until...

It was time to leave. Well, that was a joy-killer if there ever was one. I start to huff and puff, but I go off to gather my things and my siblings.

But my dad just keeps taking care of the sitting.

So, my mom says, "Are you gonna help me?"

And my dad says, "Well, you look like you got it under control."

And my mother says, "Well, God bless America $#*!"

And without missing a beat, my dad sings, "God bless America, land that I love..."

My mother stomps up the stairs while my dad keeps singing. (He did get up and help, though.)


This is me and my dad. He's a cutie. And a keeper. I love him! And my mom does, too!