Sometimes I feel as if I am in one of those miniature glass balls that you shake up, but instead of wax flake snow, what is flying all about me is six generations of stuff. Hand blown glass, tea towels, brittle photographs of small boys in lace collars, a diamond that was on the hand of a great grandmother as she rode in a train across North Dakota when the bridge underneath was blown up and was then returned to the family some years later, another great grandfather's watercolors and a chair that Buffalo Bill sat in. Not to mention the stuffed toucan that has been lying on its back in the same round cabinet for over a hundred and twenty years...oy...in the midst of all this the nine year old asks; "Have you ever tooken a sled..."
"What! What! Have I what?"...
"Have you ever tooken a..."
"No! I ain't never tooken nothin' nowhere!"
"Oh! Have you ever sledded down a hill on a piece of cardboard?"
"Oh! Well! I may have done that."