Kinda Having Fun, Sort of

I had coffee with Gail Elliott today. She's a frequent visitor at the church and a barrel of fun. She wears heaps of gold jewelry and loves books as much as I do. We both read Stolen Innocence, a tale of a young woman in a polygamous Mormon settlement who sued her religious leader, Warren Jeffs, and her ex-husband Allen whom she was forced to marry at age 14. Gail and I both had a lot to say about how that could occur in 21st-century North America. Gail is also a big fan of the Indianapolis 500 auto race. That got me thinking about my father again. He died last August and, I swear, sometimes when I tell stories about him I feel him sitting next to me. He's appreciating the fact that his stories are going online where they won't be forgotten.

Dad liked the Indy 500 too and never missed out watching it on TV. Until one year when we were taking an eight-hour car trip during the race, from Ohio to our grandparents' home in Indiana. Now my father had a way of taking fun things and doing them in a cockeyed way. He decided that, as he was driving, we would listen to the Indy 500 on the radio. I still recall several hours of hearing car motors doing that Doppler effect. "RRRREEEEOOOOOOEEEERRRR." Over and over again, punctuated by commentary. I arrived in Indiana with a headache.

I won't even start to describe that Fourth of July when Dad persuaded us all to watch the fireworks on black and white television.

More recently in my travels I saw a sign inside a unisex restroom:

Our aim is to keep this place clean.
Gentlemen: Your aim will help.
Ladies: Please remain seated for the entire performance.