Before I jump into today's topic for the A to Z, I have to talk about the weather because it's just not normal. I've been feeling under the weather, and that's not normal, either--BUT, this little tidbit HAS to be mentioned:
it snowed here last night.
Snow--you know, that white powdery stuff that's supposed to come down during Christmas break, not Spring Break??!! This is just NOT NORMAL !
But fell it did here in the mid-Atlantic state of Maryland, where mid-April weather is typically gloriously sunny, tulips have bloomed, and there just might be the aroma of steak coming from a neighboring grill. In fact, the day before yesterday was just such a day--in the upper 70's--sans tulips. I'm only half joking when I say our town's 4th of July parade might get cancelled due to snow.
Allrighty, enough of that. I interrupted our regularly scheduled program, aka the
A to Z Challenge.
My theme is Daddy's words, and I'm sharing pages from A Father's Legacy, which is a journal he wrote for me at my request, in which he answers writing prompts on each page.
On several pages, he writes of his older brother Norman, and with adoration that teeters on hero worship. Truly I don't think I've ever heard my dad utter a negative word about Uncle Norman. He's always used words like smart and strong and brave and talented and good-looking and, well, you get the point. Norman was the firstborn. Daddy was third of five.
One time, Daddy recalls, that while out skating one winter (on shoes, not skates because he was poor), he fell into a ditch. The harder he tried to get out, the more impacted the walls of his ditch became. Norman and some other kids were skating and sledding. It was Norman who came with a sled for him to grab hold and pull him out of his icy ditch.
But sometimes the desperation was not accidental in its cause.
Daddy, did you ever get into fights with other kids? Did you ever start a fight? Or stop one?
Yes, I seemed to get into fights quite naturally. I was smaller than most of my classmates (started school when I was five), so I was a natural target to be picked on. And I fought back. I don't recall starting any fights, but other kids would say I did. (They probably had poor eyesight!) But yes, I would step in to stop a fight from time to time --and sometimes end up in the fight.
My brother Norman didn't have that problem. He had a better size and demeanor. He once complained that he was always having to rescue me. I think he was right.