My cousin Becky loves gardening about as much as I do. We often compare notes on what works and what doesn't. "How do you do on your tomatoes?" she asked. "Oh, I do okay," I said. "Do you do anything special?"
More Personal Voice Features
My daughter was in her mid-teens—those years when young people think that their parents don't know too much. She often told us she couldn't wait to get away from home. "Maybe I could find another place to live for the summer," she said, "Maybe I could go stay with Grandma. Maybe I could help her with her garden. It would give me a chance to get away from home."
Have you ever had reason to wonder how useful you are? Recently, one of my daughters came home, saw me, and asked if I had suddenly gotten gray. I had to admit it was because I hadn't used Grecian in a while. With that grayness, some people think I can't do anything, and I feel old and useless. A case in point occurred Monday.
John was our roommate at college. He was not a great cook and had little money, and for that reason, he decided he could live totally on beans. The problem was that they created in him an atomic cloud of methane that was driving the rest of us to near suffocation. The situation was becoming desperate.
Celese couldn't believe the low price on one home they looked at. When they walked across the property, they found it went right down to the edge of a slow-moving river. Property like this in California would probably cost around thirty times the price being asked for this one. "How come the price is so low on this place?" Celese asked.
One day as I was heading home, I ran into my roommate, David. "Hey, Daris," David said. "Would you do me a favor? I have some things to do, and Annie is coming over to our apartment. I was wondering if you would mind visiting with her until I can get back?" I thought that it was a strange request. She was his girlfriend, and I had never visited with her without him there. "Uh, yeah," I said. "I'd be happy to visit with her."
Of all the people that my mother tried to teach the piano, I was surely the one who tried her patience the most. When it was my morning to practice piano, my mother would get me started then leave to do her own work. But the minute she walked out of the room, my attention would turn to anything but the little dots and lines on the page. It wouldn't be long before I would hear her call, "I can't hear any piano playing!"