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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Back in the day, Dad went through a crazy magic trick phase. Specializing predominantly in sleight-of-hand card tricks. He'd stop us kids and our friends right in our tracks. Just to show us an ace disappearing into his hand. Or a dozen ways a deck of cards could be stacked. He got somewhat proficient, then never really progressed. His shortcoming was that he had these rough little turtle hands. More geared toward painting, pounding nails, and keeping loves fed. They sported clusters of callouses and lacked any hint of finesse. He'd attempt to control those pesky jokers and slippery jacks. But you'd see them through the gaps in those twitchy terrapin hands. To go with the flow and not spoil the great magician's show. We'd pretend that we hadn't seen the many fumbles and gaffes. All the queens' men peeking out from those rough turtle hands. He's an old magician now and hasn't put on a show for years. His loyal following passing on or disappearing into life's deck. Or hitting the road to put on magic shows of their own. Specializing in juggling mortgage and those devilish taxes. I miss the slight smile on that young magician's face. When, on the rare occasion, the deuces, jokers, and aces would be operating in complete and total cooperation. Most of all, I miss that he'd felt the need to pretend that he hadn't noticed that we'd been pretending.
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