Iin Which I Visit a King and Bury a Saint

Bob and I took the boys to Dallas on Saturday to see King Tut. It was a loooooong-ass drive, but the boys did remarkably well, sitting in the back together, exchanging electronic gaming devices. They are actually getting to be friends, I believe, which is some relief to me. Life will just be easier if they are friends.

The Tut exhibit was enjoyable, if crowded. I was really ready for some open space after we got out of there. Especially after shepherding the boys through the gift shop. So we went to Dealy Plaza to see the site of JFK's assassination.

It was odd. Just a curve of road. But someone at some point painted two big white Xs on the road to show where the car was when the first and second bullets hit. Bizarre. People kept going out into the road to have their pictures taken while standing on the X... while Dallas traffic roars past, oblivious. We took the boys across the street to stand on the "Grassy Knoll," where the supposed second shooter was stationed. They spent their time rolling down the hill, and we spent ours lounging on the grass, making "grassy knoll" jokes. Bob pocketed a pinch of grass from the Grassy Knoll, with the intention of laminating them and giving them as joke gifts to his friends. Only He would think of that.

Monday, in a fit of desperation, I went to the Catholic book store and bought a $7.00 statue of St. Joseph. I took it to the old house where Gray, Grayson and I made a little ceremony of burying it – upside down and facing the street as prescribed – in the front yard next to the For Sale sign. I'll do whatever voodoo, witch-doctory or shamanism is required, at this point, to sell that damned house. If this doesn't work, I'm sacrificing a chicken.