so it goes. (second draft)

Kurt Vonnegut stole my idea. In 1969, which was before I was born. Unless you ascribe to his whole "unstuck in time" idea. It's right there on page 39 of Slaughterhouse-Five, which I am reading with my book club:

"She did develop a terrific hankering for a crucifix, though. And she bought one from a Santa Fe gift shop during a trip the little family made out West during the Great Depression. Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.
And the crucifix went up on the wall of Billy Pilgrim."

So much for originality. Solomon was SUCH a know-it-all. It's my first experience with Vonnegut and I am a fan so far. I suppose there are more embarrassing sources from whom I could have unintentionally stolen an idea for a short story.

The kids and I have been with my parents for a few days. Sadly, someone has already written a surprisingly successful novel (it's titled The Liar's Club--can't remember the author--Mary Karr?) about growing up in and around Port Arthur. Her experience was vastly different from mine but I think she probably covered all of the literary bases. Alas. ***[There was a story here and I have removed it because as I tried to go to sleep last night, my inner Mr. Knightley reminded me that while there are indeed many things that are ripe for satire (the unfeeling English government during a potato famine, dictators with silly hair, the fact that a mega church might actually have a paid staff member whose title is Minister of Sports and Recreation, a scout leader with comical grammar and questionable geography skills..it's an extensive list) there are certain people who deserve our compassion and not our derision. It was badly done. Forgive me.]*** There's no better place, incidentally, to observe the sorry state of American retail than Central Mall on a Tuesday morning.

One more quick vignette from the Golden Triangle. My dad and I took the kids to the playground behind my elementary school while my mom hosted a baby shower on Saturday. There was a cub scout troop under the pavilion earning a badge by learning to play marbles. The troop master had the boys stand on the faded United States of America map that was painted on the basketball court. Here's how it went:

Troopmaster: Okay! Everyone on the United States of America!
Cub Scout: Can I stand on Alaska?
(long pause)

Troopmaster: Sure! (not sounding entirely sure) That's one of the United States of America! Okay, how many of you never played marbles before? (all but two of the scouts raised their hands. Mr. Alaska kept his down. He has played marbles before.) Now SEE THERE?! THIS is what Cub Scouts is ALL ABOUT!! You could have went your whole life and not learned how to play marbles!! Now let's hand out the awards. Parents, don't be disappointed if your scout don't get first place. My own son come in last place!

At this point, Harper had lost interest so we drifted away before her grammar could be completely corrupted. Hm, You Can't Go Home Again would be a good title for a novel.