Daddy taught me important stuff. Besides locating the North Star, he taught me to braid. He attempted to teach me how to tie a variety of knots, but my chubby little fingers couldn't quite manage them.More importantly, he taught me about trolls and ogres. Not those little sissy ogres that lived in Europe, big old mean ogres. When they migrated here, they got lots of fresh air, sunshine and good stuff to eat, and those nasty buggers grew. They got HUGE!Now, the thing about ogres is they hang out in places kids really shouldn't be, where their parents might not be able to save them.Ogres hang out underneath the dangling roots of trees that line creek banks. They lurk there, waiting for unsuspecting children. They grab the kids, rub mud all over their faces and put moss in their hair. When an ogre gets done, your own mama wouldn't know you. You'd miss all that fried chicken. Your birthday. Christmas.Needless to say, I never went to the creek alone. Not once. No mud in my hair, no moss all over me. My dad was pretty darn clever! Have a good day. I'm going to. Sunflower hugs and Jayhawker winks to all.
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