The Stuff They Said To Me

“Uncle Celery, Uncle Celery, is chopping all those veggies,” my impish nieces and nephew who copycat my voice, and other hand gestures or mannerisms known to me and others, how they used to ape that voice of mine with their American twang, “Celery, do you love us for real, will you be our teacher when we’re grown,” I, Howard, replied that it would be a delightful honour, “Celery, are you having a fun time with us at all,” I answered; “every day is a fun day when we’re together,” one relative blushed: “never mind the mushy stuff, never mind the mush, It’s not so you’re never, ever going to meet us again.”