Rolling down the stairs while fighting with one’s sister shouldn’t be something to celebrate, but it can be funny, especially when your father and mother are hosting a dinner with the local Catholic Priest. Thank God I was only a spectator. None were wearing masks because it wasn’t Halloween, and no Covid. It was just prior to the decade we all wish to forget….the eighties.

I won’t even recite the profanity used while my sisters were rolling down the stairs fighting over a precious sweater, housing fleas who couldn’t even afford the rent to our closet. Far too graphic.

Regarding the sweater, the priest forgave them thinking the sweater may have been the shroud.