Wait until you come here on August 18th Mr. Swisher. I’m going to call you a name and boo you really loud. That will teach you. (In case you don’t know yankee Swisher slid into our sweet little Nishi and broke his leg.)
Hey it’s opening day, a beautiful day, and I’ll be there. It should be fun.
But enough about baseball back to ME. I think it’s cool that my initials (Mary Elizabeth) are ME. So when I see something that says “It’s all about ME” I have to agree. My nephew Brett’s middle name is Andre or Andres or something like that so his initials spell BAH — add a humbug and you’ve got something there.
If you could change your name would you? When I was growing up I didn’t like being Mary because I lived in a predominantly Catholic neighborhood and every girl was named Mary except for a Debbie, a Nancy, and a Sandy. The nice thing was when one of the mom’s would yell “MARY COME IN THE HOUSE” we could pretty much ignore it because we could always say we thought it was someone else’s mom. That didn’t mean we didn’t get in trouble, but it did give us a few more minutes of outdoor time.
Yes we played outdoors all the time. With the exception of television there was nothing much to do indoors. That was a good thing for me because I may have stayed indoors my entire childhood and actually have been more pasty pale than I already was. Even when it would be a rainy day, all the neighborhood kids would gather at one of the houses that had a porch — like ours — and we’d play board games on the porch. I did, however, have my notebooks in my room and would spend hours working on my stories and plays. I wrote a play about a girl who was escaping from the Nazi’s. I remember I had the soldiers saluting and saying “Hi Ho Hitler.” Apparently they were a combination of the Lone Ranger and Nazis. Oh well. I did love those notebooks.
Have a great day … GO TWINS!!!!