In the comments of my last post Kanani, referring to me and my father, asks: “Wasn’t your ma nurse? The two of you must have driven her nuts.”
Which happens to remind me of an incident I had in Kindergarten. You know, way back in the Old Corps. My family was stationed in
Okinawa and I attended a Catholic school out in town.
One afternoon I was a victim to a freak accident involving a swing set, some poor judgment, and a sprained ankle. It was one of those times where an adult asks the child: “Why in the world did you do that?” Of course, never in the history of mankind has there been a coherent, logical answer to this question.
According to my father’s version of events, he picked me up from school with my foot wrapped in Ace bandages and I was perfectly fine. On the way home we no doubt seriously conversed about superheroes, sword fighting, and how U.S. Marines totally kick butt on everyone else (I was indoctrinated young). This took a sudden and dramatic turn when we got home. I cried out for my mother as I crossed the threshold dragging my now useless and crippled limb behind me.
My father was nonplussed at my histrionics, but I maintain he was merely envious he hadn’t thought of it first.