On my son’s birthday

A letter to my sister in law this morning.

Hi Karen, woke up early as I usually do, I got to thinking about a story involving Mike  (my son) from many years ago. I thought you might enjoy.

Many years ago, when Mike was about seven, we travelled to Washington d.c. to visit my brother and sister-in-law, and do the sightseeing thing. We went to Ford’s Theatre, where Abraham Lincoln was shot. Must have been a group of about 50 people who were with our tour guide, a somewhat rumpled charismatic character who knew everything about Abraham Lincoln.

So this fellow is talking to all of us and zeroes in on this cute little kid in the front row, and that kid was Michael.  And this tour guide starts asking this 7 year old kid all sorts of questions about what he had just discussed.

I was sweating, there was no way Mike was going to know the answers, he was just too young. But I was so wrong. With a big smile on his face, Mike answered every question correctly.  To put it mildly, the tour guide loved him.

And other folks in the tour group were equally amazed.  How could this little kid know all this stuff?

To me, Lincoln’s death was a horrendous tragedy. But that tour on that day left me smiling, as it did for his mother as well.


2 thoughts on “On my son’s birthday”

  1. These are the memories to savor. Where did his brains come from. ? I’d say God. He is the blessing out of all the sadness. More blessings please. I need to hear some. This is my low week. I could use chuckles too. I am so enjoying your blogs.


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