Dylan comes inside. “What’s the problem? You’re making this a lot harder than it is.” He bats the unit a couple times, pulls out the accordion wings. “There. Screw it in. Done.”
Aunt Lily was portly and white-crowned–the sweetest thing, and she was family, who deserved respect. Time to bring out the whoopee cushion.
“I’d like to imagine a buzzer traveling the top of a guy’s head, creating a nice clean flat place where someone could serve tea.”
Earlier this year my 96-year-old mother passed away. Mom assigned me to tell this story at her funeral services. When I was a girl she and Dad had bought a small farm in Indiana, where on weekends he enjoyed playing farmer and she enjoyed out-fishing her husband. The kids fooled around mostly—we swam and fished…… Continue reading My Mom’s Criminal Past