Lazy mornings are the best way to start the day. I read my two papers, drank a fresh cup of coffee with each paper and ate a couple of pieces of Scali bread toast. The coffee, from Uganda, a new roast for me, was delicious.

I didn’t wake to eye-blinding sunshine this morning. The day is dark, a turn on your light to see in the daytime dark, and rain is predicted. I guess this is what we get after a beautiful, warm spring day like yesterday. It was 63˚. I’m okay with this on again-off again weather switch. Give me some more days like yesterday, and I’ll abide the rain.

My dad was a yeller, but by the time we were four or five we had perfected the art of ignoring him while looking interested and concerned at the same time. He didn’t expect anything, just us nodding our heads. We could do that. He’d warn us not to repeat the infraction whatever it was, and we were then free to leave or were send to our rooms depending upon the seriousness of what had irked my father. I always liked being sent to my room. It gave me some privacy and some peace. I’d nap or read, two of my favorites ways to while away the time.

I never learned to keep quiet, a surprise I’m sure. When I got older, into my teens, I always had an answer. To me the answers were funny and clever. To my dad they were me talking back, being sassy and questioning his authority. He was actually right. I figured I was in trouble anyway and there was a limit on what he could do so why not keep going, get a bit of satisfaction by driving my dad crazy. My brother and I used to have a friendly competition on which of us could drive my father the craziest.

When we were older, we were usually grounded, the ultimate teenage punishment, a forced imprisonment in our own homes, but mine never lasted long. My father always relented after a couple of hours. I knew he would as my mother had taught me to accept my punishment quietly without my characteristic witty retort. She told me just to let him rant and soon enough he’d be done, and I’d be freed. She was right. I always sat in my room waiting for him to come to give me the lecture. I always looked chagrined. I was good at that.