Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Back in the South

Crazy Train (of thought)

First of all, thank you to all of you who asked about Meagan yesterday. Her surgery went fine and we even found reasons to laugh before and after. She’s going to be on an aftercare plan for a few weeks, then back to normal. Thanks again for the prayers, too!

As you know, we were in New England last week enjoying fireworks in Boston on the 4th and lobster in Maine until Friday. There are many stories to tell this week, and here’s a sampling:

While in the Men’s room in an outdoor market in Boston I saw a blind man trying to find his way out of the bathroom. It was obvious he needed help – he ran into the wall and was carrying a cane, but no one offered to help. Until I did, that is. “Take my arm, sir, and I will lead you out,” I offered. I then couched him when to turn and led him up the steps to the street. As I waited with him for his wife to find him, he said, “You’re not from Boston, are you?” I’m not sure what gave that away, my accent or my manners.

We had a blast floating in a small sailboat on the Charles River, listening to the Boston Pops, watching the 30-minute fireworks show, and singing along to the surprise guests, Aerosmith. All we had to do during the four hour event was keep the boat balanced. It only nearly tipped over a dozen times.

We discovered there are more Dunkin Donuts shops than dirt in Massachusetts, and in Maine I mistook a few mosquitoes for buzzards or condors.

Marital Bliss

When at a bed & breakfast in Booth Bay, Maine, Linley discovered she left something essential for living in the rental car. I went outside to get it for her. Standing on the street, I looked up at the house and saw that all our windows were open in our rooms on the second and third floor; I could hear the girls’ laughter and Jill’s TV show. Suddenly realizing I have always wanted to be an American Idol, I started to sing “You Light Up My Life.” Soon Jill came to our window to listen and she called out, “I love my husband,” when I finished. One of the girls yelled, “You are such a dork.”


Kids say and do the funniest things, such as…

“Let’s stop in every state we pass through, because you can’t say you’ve been there until you bought something or peed there.”

When we exited the plane at Logan and found ourselves looking out over the Boston Harbor – “Can we go see the Statue of Liberty?” and later, when touring the Paul Revere House – “Look, the Liberty Bell!”

When listening to the Boston Pops play Stars and Stripes Forever I looked over at the girls, only to find them using every available body part to see who could make the loudest fart noises.

Don’t ask me, but they couldn’t get enough of something called moose poop for dessert.

Book Report

I recently received a note from a reader who recently gave my book Brothers and Sisters to her sibling. It included this inscription:

"Many people have called you their brother over your lifetime: people that we grew up with in Macon, Rangers you served with in the Army, as well as people you formed special bonds with on overseas assignments while covering the war. I'll gladly share them with you as long as you remember one very important thing. You did not become a brother until the day I was born and for that you will always be my brother first and foremost. I would not be the same person without you in my life."

Brothers and sisters – there is no other relationship quite like it, is there?

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