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lillibetWhile I was in Northern Ireland last summer, I started making a list of all the stories I tell that I'd like to write down. This is one of them.
My dad was a United Church of Christ minister. For twenty-seven years (from before I was born until after I went to college) he served a church in a small town in Upstate New York--population right around 3000. While he had a good ministry there, I never really felt at home there. We had no family within hours of us, and we valued education and travel and culture much more than the local average. I was a precocious kid with the vocabulary of an early reader and a tendency to talk about things that few kids cared about.
One day I was playing in the shrubbery outside my dad's office. I didn't know that the window was open, but my dad was working at his desk and half listening to my conversation with Evelyn Ottaviano as we played.
"Elizabeth," said Evie at one point, "You are SO WEIRD!" My dad paused, wondering how I would respond and was very proud to hear me reply, with a sigh, "I know. But I'm perfectly normal for a Hunter."
My dad was a United Church of Christ minister. For twenty-seven years (from before I was born until after I went to college) he served a church in a small town in Upstate New York--population right around 3000. While he had a good ministry there, I never really felt at home there. We had no family within hours of us, and we valued education and travel and culture much more than the local average. I was a precocious kid with the vocabulary of an early reader and a tendency to talk about things that few kids cared about.
One day I was playing in the shrubbery outside my dad's office. I didn't know that the window was open, but my dad was working at his desk and half listening to my conversation with Evelyn Ottaviano as we played.
"Elizabeth," said Evie at one point, "You are SO WEIRD!" My dad paused, wondering how I would respond and was very proud to hear me reply, with a sigh, "I know. But I'm perfectly normal for a Hunter."
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Date: 2017-08-05 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-08-06 12:06 am (UTC)That is a good story. Thank you for sharing this and the other stories.
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Date: 2017-08-09 09:01 pm (UTC)I'm pretty sure I was eight.
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Date: 2017-08-10 04:08 pm (UTC)This reminds me of a story my mother tells. Apparently when I was four, there was a parent-teacher meeting with the preschool folks.
Teacher: "As you must know, James is a unique little boy. You know the old saying about marching to the beat of a different drummer."
Mother: "Oh yes, we're very proud of him, though that can certainly present a challenge."
Teacher: "Nevermind the drummer, James has his own orchestra."
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Date: 2017-08-11 11:11 pm (UTC)