It was the same every night, she’s sit there; bare legs tucked under her, a romance novel in one hand and the other holding some chocolate or perhaps a fork with a piece of steak on the end. Usually, if us kids had been lucky we had Mac and Cheese for dinner… if not just the mac. There always seemed to be money for a new romance novel, chocolate and steak for Mom, but mac and cheese was a luxury.

The four of us were, in retrospect, starved for attention. We’d come up with little shows or dance acts to put on for Mom and whichever Dad happened to be there at the time. There are the four of us, doing a performance of Elvira by the Oak Ridge Boys, bouncing up and down and mouthing the lyrics. I wonder now who was the choreographer and who was the brains behind such schemes. Mom would watch us and smile always enjoying the show, unless or course something else was on that she needed to watch that meant we had to be quiet.

Maybe the truth behind it all is we had Brady Bunchism, the need to be dorky in a group.