I talked with my mother on the phone the other day.  She’s a retired ESL instructor and she now spends much of her time writing.  She writes about what she knows – her sons.  Unfortunately for me, she still has a sharp, creative mind and a vivid memory.  The combination is dangerous.  Many of the stories she brings up are of things I have long forgotten (or tried to block out). 

In our phone conversation, I had asked her to provide a few descriptive details of a room in our family home for something I was trying to write.   In doing so, she mentioned a wall plaque that I turned into the following post: