Michael D. Davis.

My father, the Old One, as well as my sister, seems to take precautions against ever admitting that they are wrong. I could give a multitude of examples for both, but here is a single example for just the Old One.

So, I was taking my father somewhere the other day, and Dixie came along as well. My father sat in the back seat as my dog, Dixie, always calls shotgun. I was driving along when my father pointed out a woman on her front lawn.

My father stated something like, “Look ‘er there, that gal seems to have herself a young one in her arms.” Then a realization of sorts came over the old man, and he said, “My god, is she breastfeeding? I can’t believe it. That woman is breastfeeding on her front lawn. My god.”

My response was quick and to the point: “That woman’s holding a kitten.”

The woman was standing in the afternoon sun, wearing a dark blue shirt, holding a cat. My father, never one to admit he’s wrong, pivoted and said, “Now let me guess, this will be in next week’s paper.” He of course can’t be wrong, as here it is.