The First Time

Oh, I remember the first time. Dad had taken us children out. It was just the four of us. Mom was working. When we reached home, we discovered that Dad didn’t have the key, and the door was locked. This was pre-cell phone days, back when phones were big, clumsy things a headset as large as a small child’s head, and a rotary dial.

Dad reconnoitered to find a way in and then started talking about going to one of the neighbors’ houses to call Mom. We hadn’t lived there long, and didn’t know the neighbors.

I had a more pressing issue; I had to pee. Dad pointed to a bush and said, “Just go behind a bush.”

I was shocked. Pee outside? What are we animals. But when a boy hasta go, a boy hasta go.

Yep, I remember the first time.

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The Joke

“There’s a Dairy Queen. Want to go there for dessert?”

“Okay.” She sounded pleased.

He’d been joking but he made the right turn, found parking, and they went inside. It’d been a long time since they’d been in a DQ, and the menu was different from those days, requiring a study of offering, ingredients, and calories. Finally choices were made. “Do most people take a long time like I did?” he asked the young cashier.

She smiled. “Yes, most do.”

His wife said, “We used to go to the Dairy Queen when we were dating. Not this one, but I mean, another Dairy Queen. It was the only place around.”

“That was literally almost fifty years ago,” he said. He and his wife laughed.

The cashier smiled. “Your orders will be up in a moment.”

 

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