When dad died ten years ago we all got together and shared stories about him. I was intrigued by the responses that some of the younger members of the family had to the stories. They had never heard many of them. At the time I promised my youngest sister that I’d do a better job of telling the stories and keeping them alive. I haven’t done a very good job of that but suffice it to say that this is my first attempt.
A couple weeks ago I went through a drive-thru with Rachel and a memory of my dad popped into my head. It was nothing really profound, just a funny event that had happened.
It was the early 80s and Rog and I were in a hurry to get somewhere. We were in “Thumper” our brown 76 VW Rabbit, we were both hungery but didn’t have a lot of time. Rog pulled into the Wendy’s in Tucker, drove right past the microphone and straight over to the pick-up window. The girl at the window looked out and said, “That’ll be $8.75” Dad paid, handed me the bag and the drinks and drove off. As soon as we got on the road he looks over at me and asks, “What did we get?”. I don’t remember what we actually ended up with. I was just stunned by his breach of drive-thru protocol. I can only imagine the conversation that followed when the next driver came to pick up his order.
Psychic Predators in Caring Clothing - * *The June 6 edition of the “Broward/Palm Beach NewTimes” contains an excellent long-read piece, “How Modern Fortunetellers Pull Off Their Scams”. Repor...
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