One Saturday Morning
From a very young child, I was told by many that I was a GOOD kid.
'GOOD' meant that I was obedient and respectful to parents and adults.
My mother thought I was GOOD, and my grandmother had absolutely no doubt. But my father never gave me a clue about being GOOD, BAD, or SPECIAL. Grandma actually thought that I was great and very SPECIAL.
I later learned that grandparents have the ability to make all their grand
children feel SPECIAL.
Most of my siblings thought I was GOOD and SPECIAL when pleasing them. Otherwise, whatever character I did posses made no difference to them.
It never occured to me I was BAD in any way until I got married.
It was an amazing discovery that unfolded something like this one Saturday: Before being married, I cherished one thing on saturdays, and that was baseball.
One newly wedded saturday morning, I poured myself a large glass of milk and filled my platter with my choicest cookies. I was getting set to enjoy the Major League Baseball Game of the Week when my wife walked in and said, "What are you doing?" When I told her what I was doing, she quickly said to me, "That is not what we will be doing on saturdays mornings". That was when I truely realized that I was a BAD person.
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