Back home, Dee's bike is certainly easier to handle than Wally's.

This is the outfit I wore on the plane from Philly to L.A., the only difference is that I wore my hair up on the plane, and I had on penny loafers instead of sandals. My state of dress looks conservative enough today (in the early 2000's). Bzzzzt - wrong! Aunt Gretel was shocked when she found out that I traveled, TRAVELED, in public, on an AIRPLANE, in PANTS. She lectured me on appropriate dress for travel. I often got a lecture from Aunt Gretel as I almost always was doing something that lowered her estimate of me. When it came to doing something the way it's "supposed" to be done, and what other people would think if it wasn't, well, I guess, now that I think about it, Aunt Gretel and my mother were pretty much cut from the same cloth. :o) The last lecture I got from Aunt Gretel was at Peter's house on Peregrine Street. I took exception to her telling me that I should make my bed every day. ("Making the bed" to Aunt Gretel meant two sheets, a blanket, and a bedspread - hotel style; making the bed most certainly did *not* mean tossing a comforter up over the pillows.) I interrupted Aunt Gretel and vehemently told her that I was not interested in hearing any more of her hints, (actually the word I used was not 'hints', although it was similar and didn't contain an "n") that I was sick and tired of her lectures, and that she better find someone else to pick on because I wasn't going to have any more of it. She truly was shocked to hear me express myself in that way. Whether it was what I said, how I said it, or the words I used, I don't know, but it hit her hard. For a moment I felt sorry for her, but I pulled myself together and went on with whatever conversation was going on before the bed-making episode. We never spoke of it again, and she never lectured me again. I think we both learned something that day.

We were raised as our parents were raised, we were told what to think, feel, and believe. We are trained to follow, then told to lead. Quite a feat. When children are raised in such a stultifying environment it is difficult for them to recognize reality and life's education comes slowly, if at all. Is it any wonder when one is raised this way (that thoughts are good or bad, that feelings are acceptable or silly, or that what we know is a lie must be believed for truth), that when we grow up we have difficulty surrounding ourselves with people that know a thought is just a thought, that feelings are accepted - period, and that a lie is a lie - in other words, people that are real? Life goes on and sometimes life's lessons are learned quickly and sometimes slowly, we pass them on to our children who then go on to learn the lessons *they* need to learn - and so it goes, generation after generation, the human condition. ... Well, maybe not the entire human condition, but surely a big part of it.