No
central air, so we’d sit
in
the one air-conditioned
room
and watch Lawrence Welk
on
summer Saturday nights:
aunt,
uncle, grandmother, me.
We’d
watch in silence until
the
uncle would bark
Ignorant! at the screen
and
throw
his shoe. It was usually
the
Lennon Sisters who sparked
the
outrage; no harm was done:
the shoe never hit the screen,
and
the Lennon Sisters never knew.
This
is another in the series of poems about growing up in the South, suggested by Nancy Rosback. Like all the
poems in the series, it is true.
