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Growing up on the farm, Sunday dinner at noon was always a feast, many times with Aunt Jessie, Aunt Lucy and Ronnie joining us at the table. I remember it all with good memories, except this one
Aunt Jessie, actually Dad’s aunt, my great aunt, was a tiny proper little lady, who wore pince-nez
Neither one Aunt Jessie, but the glasses are
On this particular day, Mom made roasted pork for our Sunday meal, and I got to sit at the dinner table beside Aunt Jessie. I liked to talk a lot, and this one time I became more than a little animated in the story I was telling. I swung my hand with a fork in it, right up to Aunt Jessie's glasses ~ hooked the side of them ~ and hurled her pince-nez glasses clear across the…
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