Oh My Sweet Gladiola
The following is an excerpt from an e-mail my father sent me while on a business trip:
I am writing from Vegas. It is about 3:15 Monday afternoon. I'm on your time. ... I'm on the 26th floor and I look out my window and I'm staring at that big pyramid. ...I see mountains and in the distance snow on some of them.
This is the weirdest place.
Only my father could make an e-mail from a Las Vegas hotel room sound like a letter penned by a solider on a Civil War battlefield, bemoaning his alien surroundings and pining for his homeland.
I love ya, pop. Mom's taping "Lost" for you. Get home safe. And kill those Confederate bastards.
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