Something was up. My parents hadn't shown for dinner since our kids were smaller and learning was, at least, the program. My father's strained face making tonight's event all the more interesting. Besides Grace's both ordering and delivering our Italian meal. Ziti For Everybody!
Incredibly, when all were seated, my father began, "'Something's happening here and what it is ain't exactly clear,'" while glancing for my recognition of where he could possibly be coming from explaining where he thought civilization's gone.
He saw my reluctance. Saying, "You see there's been a strain in the American political culture" and his eyes squinted, zeroing on Sally's whose rolled ones meant our listening to the definition of what a political strain is. Baffling us and losing the kids with the metaphors he could never adequately explain
...
Then he stepped to the window, looking out, and I asked what he saw.
And he said, "Memories meant to last shrugged under the rug by the mealy-mouthed conspiracy wanting rule to mean just that. Tyranny. Which isn't for everyone."
Incredibly, when all were seated, my father began, "'Something's happening here and what it is ain't exactly clear,'" while glancing for my recognition of where he could possibly be coming from explaining where he thought civilization's gone.
He saw my reluctance. Saying, "You see there's been a strain in the American political culture" and his eyes squinted, zeroing on Sally's whose rolled ones meant our listening to the definition of what a political strain is. Baffling us and losing the kids with the metaphors he could never adequately explain
...
Then he stepped to the window, looking out, and I asked what he saw.
And he said, "Memories meant to last shrugged under the rug by the mealy-mouthed conspiracy wanting rule to mean just that. Tyranny. Which isn't for everyone."
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