Have you ever sat in a car for seven hours to go somewhere for a couple of weeks, only to then sit in a car for another seven hours to go back where you came from
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When my great grandmother was dying, my mother, my grandmother, and I , age 4, got in the car and began to drive from the Philadelphia area to the small town outside Pittsburg where she lived for the gathering of the clan and their chance to say their goodbyes (in those days children were deemed too young to be saying goodbyes). It was, in those days when the interstate highway system was still under construction, a six hour drive. I spent the whole six hours singing. One song. One line of one song.
Mary had a little lamb...
Mary had a little lamb...
Mary had a little lamb...
Mary had a little lamb...
My grandmother, a wonderful cellist, who studied with Pablo Casals for a time, and who was driving while grief-stricken, somehow managed not to kill me. Although she did remind me periodically of her merciful nature for the remaining 45 years of her life, which was no less than I deserved for putting her through that.
Everytime I want to murder one of the kids during a long car trip, I remember her example and refrain. Although I'm not above reminding them...
I've been reading your fic, btw, with great pleasure, but late at night when I've been falling asleep before I can come up with the words to express my delight. I'll get around to it eventually, but I didn't want you to think that I wasn't even looking!
Hahaha! Oh man, that reminds me of that one time we drove to the chocolate factory with my kindergarteners... and I had the amazing idea to sing with them. One song. For the rest of the trip all of them simultaneously sang different parts of the song and I wanted to throw myself out of the bus. Needless to say on the next bus trip (to the zoo) singing was banned on the bus. :p
Aaand thank you! Two more parts and that story is done, too. I've been having an incredible amount of fun with this one and I'm glad you like it, too. :)
Mary had a little lamb...
Mary had a little lamb...
Mary had a little lamb...
Mary had a little lamb...
My grandmother, a wonderful cellist, who studied with Pablo Casals for a time, and who was driving while grief-stricken, somehow managed not to kill me. Although she did remind me periodically of her merciful nature for the remaining 45 years of her life, which was no less than I deserved for putting her through that.
Everytime I want to murder one of the kids during a long car trip, I remember her example and refrain. Although I'm not above reminding them...
I've been reading your fic, btw, with great pleasure, but late at night when I've been falling asleep before I can come up with the words to express my delight. I'll get around to it eventually, but I didn't want you to think that I wasn't even looking!
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Aaand thank you! Two more parts and that story is done, too. I've been having an incredible amount of fun with this one and I'm glad you like it, too. :)
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