Familial Woes

The exposure of my carriage class upbringing has been heralded by the arrival of Mother and Sister Jessamine. They arrived yesterday in Father’s outmoded 1899 Horsey Horseless - clad in gingham, cockleburs in their hair.


Before they arrived I wrote Mother a letter putting forth the edict that I will only go out in public with her while clad in my clever Uncle Sam disguise.


She replied that she “wept for 3 days strate, to think that [her] only son was embarised to be seen with his own muther.” (Spelling fallacies her’s, not mine.)

I replied that maybe if she and Father had finished the 3rd Grade they would have they would have had the good sense to realize that starting a pokeweed farm was a perfectly idiotic idea that would lead to nothing but a life of mortifying poverty.

Ah, but it’s good to see the family again.