Bragging

The other day I was sipping coffee, listening to parents brag about their wonderful children.

My Joe is going to OSU on a scholarship, one mom said. Football, yep. How's Francine? She's going to Duke? Well, I guess her father went there. Not that that's how she got in, but, well . . .

I was reminded of a time when I was listening to my father at a cocktail party many years ago, when all his friends were bragging about their brilliant kids, each one trying to one-up the others. My father jumped in . . .

My son's marijuana crop was excellent this year. His plants must be six feet tall. Would anyone like to see them--- They're up in the corner pasture . . .

The room went silent. Only the sound of ice in cocktail glasses.

Well, I hope he doesn't end up behind bars, Mrs. Thomas commented finally.

No worry. I have heard that the sheriff enjoys a toke now and then, my father laughed.

(Not that my father was telling the truth about the sheriff . . . )

Another time, he was at the barn with some of his friends when the conversation turned to bragging. My father let out a fart as loud as thunder.

Again it went silent. Then Tiny, the blacksmith, started giggling.

Just like the horses, my father sighed And everyone joined in with the laughing.

Well, that being said. I have to admit am one proud mother right now. Proud of my daughter, Suzanne, who is working for Catholic Relief Services this summer in El Salvador, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Honduras . . . Proud of my son, Jimmy, who passed his quals . . .

Okay, now I hear my father farting his applause in heaven . . .