Oprah moment
Bradley Robertson
brother was waiting for a sister he had never met in thirty-five years.
He is the oldest of eleven children born to a mid-west Native American
woman. He was adopted out at the age of fifteen months.
I watched from a distance, as he stood by Shirley’s Kitchen, watching
the stream of ferry walk-offs, scanning their faces. Finally, all
alone, he took out his cell phone. I turned to leave him in his
disappointment. On the other side of the parking lot, by the car
entrance, a lady on a cell phone, scanned the lot. I saw her distress
turn to a smile, and she started toward Shirley’s, weaving between
parked cars. Then they were together. A tentative hug, followed by the
classic separation to take in the total of the other person; he with a
black pony tail, her with long reddish hair and high cheek-bones showing
her heritage, two more hugs, and fast-talking, looking, and finally he
ushered her into his transportation.
deadfloyd
wife, Stella Ann, came up to me,
dragging her kid, little Bo Diddley Morrison, screaming that I was a
deadbeat father and who knows what else
(because she was screaming so that no one who was even slightly
inclined to be human, could understand
her). I just calmly kept repeating, "He's not my kid" while getting
directly in her face.
"Damn you, Floyd Cletus Morrison, how could it not be your kid?" I
think she asked.
"Cause I don't make brown-eyed little bastards. 'Sides I only slept
with you two or three dozen times and I didn't
love you, so there."
Then Maury, who was sitting on the front steps, read the results.
[With apologies to Brad for stepping on his story with my
inappropriate crap.]
deadfloyd
deadfloyd
> [With apologies to Brad for stepping on his story with my
> inappropriate crap.]
>
> deadfloyd
I'm sorry. That should read, "With apologies to Brad for stepping on
his well-
written story with my inappropriate and poorly-executed crap."
deadfloyd
deadfloyd
> [With apologies to Brad for stepping on his story with my
> inappropriate crap.]
>
> deadfloyd
I'm sorry, that should read: "With apologies to Brad for stepping
on his well-written story with my inapporopriate and poorly-
executed crap."
deadfloyd
deadfloyd
Someone who states the obvious and then repeats himself.
Mea culpa (and her All-Star Band).
deadfloyd
Bradley Robertson
I am very glad you are in good humor.
Bradley Robertson
I liked it, and can see a spin-off with Cletus Morrison as the star. . .
Called "Those little Brown Eyed Bastards" Yee haa!
B
Bradley Robertson
Oh. sorry, humuor, or is it humour, to you. . .
B our
Grand Mal
"Bradley Robertson" <br...@whidbey.com> wrote in message
news:4ri4nd....@whidbey.net...
So, an Oprah moment is just a little bigger, has a bit more meat on it, than
a regular moment?
Bradley Robertson
>
> So, an Oprah moment is just a little bigger, has a bit more meat on it, than
> a regular moment?
No, a heart-warming scene, as seen by the female sex, as I see it from
the male prospective. Oprah has become a adjective.
B
deadfloyd
Oprah is bigger than an adjective, she is a metaphor. For what, I do
not know or dare not say. I cannot be sure.
But such is my status at the moment.
floyd
master of saying nothing of import.
Grand Mal
"deadfloyd" <deadfl...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
news:7bacb396-3799-4dc9...@k8g2000yqk.googlegroups.com...
On Aug 22, 11:38 am, Bradley Robertson <b...@whidbey.com> wrote:
> > So, an Oprah moment is just a little bigger, has a bit more meat on it,
> > than
> > a regular moment?
>
> No, a heart-warming scene, as seen by the female sex, as I see it from
> the male prospective. Oprah has become a adjective.
>
> B
Oprah is bigger than an adjective, she is a metaphor.
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She's also like a simile.
But she's no antonym.
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