When I was visiting Dad last month, he reminded me of a story about Mike that seems appropriate to post now--around Halloween.Dad recalled when we all went to a haunted house. All of us kids were pretty young--Mike was probably about 7 years old. (Hey, aren't haunted houses meant for teenagers and adults?)
Dad said that all of us kids were pretty quiet through the whole thing. (Just to let you know, Dad, it was because we were all terrified!) Then, as we were all quietly walking through the parking lot to leave, Dad asked what our favorite part of the haunted house was. Apparently, only one of us kids offered anything positive. It was Mike.
Mike said, "I liked the lady who let me out the best."
Well said, my brother!
My personal recollection of the haunted house:
I was terrified--especially since my parents were seemingly unaware of some of the happenings to me. For instance, I remember walking up a set of open stairs and having someone reach through and grab my leg...and hang on to it. The only comfort I had while having gouls and zombies jump out at me at every turn was that I was holding onto my mom's hand. But when my ankle was grabbed and I couldn't walk anymore, my mom said something like, "Come on, Laura, you've gotta keep up." I thought to myself, "Easy for you to say." and "Some comfort YOU are, Mom!" Then I was hushed when I tried to explain what happened. I figured I wouldn't get out of there with my family anyway.
Anyone notice that in the picture of all of us kids, Mike dressed up as a soldier?
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