I wouldn’t say the heavens opened up, lightning struck and angels sang. But I may have heard the national anthem of these United States playing for a small, American mother. Who, oddly enough, appeared to be highly caffeinated. “May,” OK? I said I may have heard that song.
There’s this, too. If directing traffic under great duress were an official sport, I could win that going away. On Sunday mornings, this skill shines bright, as well as on certain schooldays. The bus is coming or the choir’s tuning up, and there we are. Someone can’t find his socks, Someone Else has lost his Bible and two others are coming to blows.
If it’s a Sunday, there may or may not be a scowling Mister tooting the horn and revving the engine with a solid Sunday foot. Which, I note with relief, is sporting a clean Sunday sock. (Again, I did say “may.”)
The ability to separate a pair of wrestlers, strip socks onto the shoeless and find the Word that’s missing for the clueless, all in 3.2 seconds, is not nothing. It’s not. In fact, it could go a long way toward bringing the nation together, at least while the anthem plays, and stimulate our national pride.
“Could.” I said it could do that. Now, pass the cheese dip, please.