My mother reached down, straightened my tie and told me to go on outside and wait by the car. My sister soon joined me, dressed in a typical 1970’s plaid dress, knee socks and black buckle shoes. The sun had just started to rise on this late summer day in the suburbs of Washington, DC. Me being all of six years old and my four year old sister, dressed to the nines standing in the driveway next to the family’s light blue Volkswagen Beetle must have been a sight of curiosity for the neighbor out walking his dog before leaving for work. He must have known, although we were in our Sunday best, church was not our destination. Soon our mother appeared dressed in the latest seasonal fashion and in keeping with mine and my sister’s attire. She pushed the storm door open and stepped to the side of the small concrete stoop to hold the door open for our father to emerge. He was in a brownish suit with a perfectly coordinated tie that was classic seventies, ironing board wide. Turning a
Humorous rants and thoughts.