I was born. I suffered.
I suffered some more, and hopefully,
I won't die a painful death.
This is my life.

Sledding with Eva

I know that in the past, I have focused on The Old Man's exploits, this week I would like to relay some fond memories about The Old Lady.  Lately, there have been some less than kind feelings towards The Old Lady from some in my family.  By less than kind I mean, hold her head in an oven. So I thought that I would share a poignant winter memory from winters long ago.

Growing up at the estate was fantastic because of the sprawling grounds and a great hill off to the side of the house.  This hill was perfect for winter sledding.  Occasionally, The Old Lady would go outside to play in the snow with us.  It was always at night, because she couldn't be seen without high-heels and makeup on.
The Old Lady About to go sledding


(The Old Lady, ready for sledding)

After The Old Man would make our 'hots-cakes' dinner, The Old Lady would dig through her closet and get out one of her older rabbit fur coats and put on a couple of pairs of wool pants.  I'm sure that she wore some sort of high-heeled leather boots.  Yes, it was neat.  We made our way through the 375 feet of snow and to the top of the hill.  We had this ancient wooden toboggan that could seat about four.  The Old Man had hand-carved it out of a solid block of plywood.  My sister, let's call her Jennifer, would join us and off we flew down the hill.  It was quite dangerous if you slid close to the iron pipes coming out of the cement blocks used as a retaining wall that held the redwood fence and backyard pool in place.  But that didn't bother us at all.  The Old Lady was there, her snow-covered brown rabbit fur coat shimmering in the streetlight.

I've discussed these long-past winter outings with The Old Lady and she seems to recall that most of the time a certain mean-spirited brother of mine, let's call him Craig, would push her down in the snow and that was the end of the winter fun every time.


So next time you are thinking about pulling the plug on your aging parents, remember that at one point in their lives they were just like you.