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My Favorite Guy

It’s the Kentucky Derby today.  My parents grew up in Louisville, KY, and so the Kentucky Derby is as important as Christmas…okay, not that important.  But it is alive and well here in So Cal…in theory.  Even as I sit here tapping away (to give WordPress a chance to see things my way, actually), one of my sisters and my dear Pa are even now ensconced in front of the television watching the pre-race show.  It’s a big screen, so it can be said they are actually right there among the crowd.

Lunch was first.  We didn’t have mint juleps.  Apparently one year they were served and things went terribly wrong.  But fried chicken was.  Kentucky Fried Chicken, in fact.  My sister brought it.  This is not the day to quibble about the arteries and other non-Southern things like that.  We had lemonade in our Kentucky Derby glasses, and for dessert there was much talk about all our relatives in Louisville–

I think one cousin owns a share in a horse who ran in some races once.  We don’t think the horse won much money, but somewhere we think we heard they broke even.

One set of cousins is still reeling because they found out that upon the death of their father they no longer had their box seats at Churchill Downs, so we dissected why it is they hadn’t known there would be issues like that to be resolved before Uncle Charles breathed his last.

My sister and I counted, while Dad calmly ate his chicken and biscuits and honey.  We have thirty-seven first cousins there in Louisville, which becomes frightening when we start adding up their children, and er…the children of those children.  There are triplets in there somewhere, girls, who grew up, and went into the army.  All three.  We are almost sure about that last detail.

So now, Sis and Pop are waiting for the race of races to start.  They tried to lure me–

But I watched “Secretariat” the other night.  That will just have to do.

 

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