Making Memories with My Son

That's my son, Henry. He busted his buns moving mountains of sod for me when I decided to create an Alice in Wonderland path of flowers from the front of the house all the way to the back….

Well, he's referring to last year… the beginning of our turn in luck… I had to spend the money I owed Excel on an emergency and Excel didn't appreciate that. (Once they turn you off, there's no negotiating with them—they've got all the power—yuk yuk!) And I was to discover that all non-profit funds were dried up. That is when I had my first hint that we were really in a recession. Anyway, Henry was a trouper himself. We had no power but we had gas for cooking for a long time until one day, right in the middle of making a really delicious Vietnamese soup, they shut off the gas.

Henry hit the ceiling and there were some choice words that 15 year-olds love to use. But I said, "Well, it's not like they're wrong… after all, we haven't paid the bill… but…Hey! Rule # One! Never let the bastards see ya sweat! There's no crying in baseball... How do you think our ancestors got by anyway? You just built me a great fire pit, so let's get cookin..."

And we did. Within a half hour, we were sitting down to splende-lee-cious soup. Henry even took a picture of it. Now someday, if anyone ever asks him, "Mr. Brown, what is the most delicious meal you have ever had?" I will lay down a hundred bucks that he will answer, "Vietnamese soup"! SHE

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