“No way!” I screamed inside. “No way you’re getting this mature lady on stage with all these experienced tappers, performing in front of a live audience.”
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 looked at our geriatric audience. Most were in wheelchairs. One woman was snoozing with her mouth open. Another was strangely gurgling.
The woman I’d met just ten minutes earlier smiled, lowered her eyelids, and began to sing–from a place that transcended the human who sat beside me.
It was obviously a youngster…frantically searching for its kin. Desperate to outrun the predator, it leaped and bounded, reaching a speed of 55 mph…
I couldn’t go back home. Living with parents was not appealing. I heard a whisper: go west, Terry, go west.
I needed to learn how to safely command the killer table saw, and I needed that soon–before I lost my resolve.
They never knew I was there, hidden in the branches of the ash tree, wondering what it would be like to scamper like a squirrel or crawl like a beetle.
“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