Fathers and Daughters
My dad and I were talking on the phone late the other night, and he started telling me a story about when I was younger. My mom was in the hospital having surgery, and he was taking care of me (18 months old) and my two brothers. Apparently, I was fussing, so he brought me into bed with him. This was great fun for 18 month old Gretchen, so instead of sleeping, I started playing and kicking. He said I kept kicking him in the head, so he moved me to the bottom of the bed. I then kept kicking his legs. Playing was so much more fun than sleep at 3 AM. Anyway, I just thought it was a cute story.The rest of the story is rather boring. It turns out that my mom had run off to a convent, and dad had to go get her there. The nuns were walking around singing "how do you solve a problem like Donnamaria?" On the way home from the convent, my dad and mom found us along side the road hanging from trees wearing clothes we had made from draperies. Karl was playing the guitar and we were all singing and trying to hide from the Nazis. Dad blew his whistle and we all lined up and said our names. BORING.
posted by gretchenjohnson @ 9:22 AM
9 Comments:
yeah that's right
i forgot I even knew how to play guitar, wow
this seems like some copyright infrigement
is that you crying? don't cry
www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/object/article?f=/c/a/2006/03/24/SPGC7HTJ2V1.DTL&o=0
Plus, didn't your mom fly away again with her umbrella when the wind changed?
Remember when you all were scheduled to sing in that concert, but instead you snuck off to Switzerland in that little Porche convertible?
That was neat.
"I am sixteen, going on seventeen'...
Ellie...I am listening to your beautiful nightengale voice in my head right now. Can't wait to see you again!
Miss you too and that little up and coming one....oxoxoxoxoxo Ellie
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