The Secret Keeper 103

When I was twelve, I thought I could sail through life. I played hard, had a beautiful country landscape as a backdrop and “the world was my oyster”. Maybe that is the way all privileged children feel. I add privileged because I was, not in a monetary sense, but in most other ways.

I will candidly add at this point that my dad had what you might call, a short fuse. Sadly, in my young adult years I must have inherited that miserable trait. I was quick to anger if I thought I was slighted, but just as quickly, over it. I had red hair and often people would remark I had an Irish temper. Do Ireland residents all have quick tempers? I have no idea and recently learned I have Viking heritage as the main component…violence? Well let’s move on.

The saying rules are rules never had to be repeated. I knew what was expected of me, no questions asked, at least not more than once. My older sisters’ examples were a wonderful learning experience, saving me from their same fate. Don’t overthink, I’m not saying I had a hard disciplinary situation myself, I just learned how to stay out of trouble.

Watching old movies and musicals on a small black and white television that was mostly snow, listening to Abbot and Costello, and “The Lone Ranger” on the radio, sparked the jester in me. I used to stride around like Groucho Marx with a pencil for a cigar. I frequently repeated quotes from the comedians such as “that’s another fine mess you’ve gotten me into”. I’m sure the noise of these efforts was not always appreciated, but I did try my hand at entertaining.

Summing up these paragraphs, I have to say I look back at my childhood and smile. I hope most people my age would say we did sail on.

Weekly Writing Prompt #103

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