Look Out Cretin-Derham Hall, Here She Comes!

Hi All!

My youngest and my onliest girl sets off to High School tomorrow.

Sigh.... (as in sadness + relief)

After St. Agnes Mass and a typically awesome breakfast at the Backstreet Grille, I subjected the poor soul to Dad's Magical History Tour.

From the river flats up the hill, over the crappy new High Bridge (vs. the rickety scary "real" high bridge that terrified me in my bicycling youth), up another hill to Summit and on to Merriam Park, returning via Prior to PBR and back to Falcon Heights, I bored her to tears with my ticking off of the homes of my grandparents and parents and all my lawn job places and a story to go with each:

"Did I tell you about the time that went to collect my dollar for a mowing and found old Mrs. Burns on the lying at the bottom of the basement stairs?"

"Yeah, Dad. About a hundred times."

"OK, did I ever tell you about the time Mrs. Burns paid me an extra 50 cents to pull weeds and I wrapped my hand around a bee and got my first ever sting and when I opened my palm it flew out of my hand right past my left ear?"

BINGO! That was a new one for her. You never forget your first bee sting or stingray sting. I remembered my two and the young lady matched my stories tit for tat.

Pain. You never forget pain.

Snuck up the stairs to the choir loft at St. Mark's where I spent most of my formative years learning the Catholic Faith. As an altar boy I explored every nook and cranny of the scary, dusty old barn. Was disappointed that they walled in the spooky bellows and pipes of the scary old organ, which was right out of Phantom of the Opera but is now some wimpy electronic keyboard thingy. She finally got to see the Jesus statue that I swear nodded and moved His hands toward me while deep in prayer during lunch hour in the darkened church around about 4th grade. (stare at something long enough, but what if....?)

I'd been fascinated by the talking statues that were pretty much the province of the Virgin Mary, and I was sure I would be as famous as the little girls who Our Lady of Fatima took into confidence.

If you are ever in the vicinity of Dayton and Prior, check the place out, if it's open. The impressive wood work is amazing.

And if you kneel in the front right pew in front of the wood carving of Jesus and stare real hard, he might give you a wink.

In the end, my girl was quite patient with me and I can't wait to deliver her to the hallowed halls of old Raider Tech tomorrow. I think she's heard all my "Cretin Stories" at least twice so I guess it will be a quiet trip.

I think she will do well. Heck, if the HS gig falls through perhaps she could join Fleetwood Mac as the next Stevie Nicks!

Cheers!