“It” as in Cousin? “It like a Y” as in cyclops? Or the “it” as in tag, you’re. I don’t think there are 7 interesting things about me. Do they have to be known things or surprises, ’cause, Honey, if you want surprises, those are in the Sea of Forgetfulness.
I’m going to have to pray about this. “Lord, could you reveal a couple more than 2?” But, let’s see. There is more than 1/2 century to work with here.
1. My grandparents on both sides were married and had children before the turn of the 20th century. My parents were born in the aughts, 19 aught 7 and 19 aught 8. So if I start in with what Woodrow Wilson or Calvin Coolidge did, forgive me. I was raised by people who completed their schooling in the 1920’s.
2. I went to Bible College in 1969 and was one of 15 white kids who started a church in a predominantly black North Minneapolis neighborhood while the smoke-charred wood from the race riots were still on the store windows. We went door to door. FYI, most of the people were regular, seeking, decent, and harmless. But my mother quaked daily. I keep asking the music director if the choir can wear robes and sway down the aisle. She has consistently refused.
3. I dated multi-racial and international before I fell for a white Brit from Minnesota. When I told my mom I had met the man I wanted to marry, her first question was “what color is he?” She was not a racist. I was the child who taught her how to have a conversation without blinking.
4. I spent 29 years in Minnesota smacking mosquitoes and I want a medal or at least a martyr badge.
5. Girlfriends and I went UFO hunting and bushwhacking in high school for entertainment because my class was so small (40), we all felt like siblings and I didn’t date, which is the same reason I had piles of books ready for the inevitable book report.
6. We didn’t have an indoor potty or fixed bathtub until I was twelve. I am not only not embarrassed, but downright proud of having roughed it. Don’t ask me to go camping. The Holiday Inn is camping.
7. I helped Dad build the house brick by brick and shingle by shingle. Polish my badge. That time as a carpenter nurse (fetching tools, waiting for instruction) allowed talking, learning, bonding. Thank you, Daddy.
Spaghetti’s done, I’m hungry, Honey’s waiting for me to get off the computer. Bye.
As the culprit who “tagged” you, may I congratulate you on a great list. . . .!
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I’d say that was a great list.
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