The History of Great Things Read Online Free

is a nice Southern girl, and you are also a Southern girl now, technically, though you were born a Yankee; maybe that’s a mixed blessing, but of the two I think it’s the better. You make pretend dinner in the kitchen, pretend pork chops and pretend frozen peas from the pretend refrigerator (a scratchy sofa cushion, set on end) while Linda pretend vacuums the floor. What would you like for dinner, dear? Linda asks, and you put on a deep voice and say I’m making pork chops and peas , and Linda says What, no, the daddy doesn’t make the dinner , and you say in your own voice Sure he does , and Linda is now wondering if you live in Backwards World, says No, thedaddy goes to his work and then when he gets home he sits down at the table and asks where dinner is . This is the first you’ve heard of this; there may have been a moment when some version of this happened back in Binghamton, but you have no recollection of it. Your dad teaches music at college, which to you means he does this by some kind of telepathic singing magic, because he is almost always home when you’re home. Yes, you do go to kindergarten, so you don’t know that he is gone for some of those hours, but he is there to make oatmeal or eggs and toast in the morning, and he is there to take you to school, and he is there to pick you up from school, and he is there to play with you after school, and he is there to make dinner, give you a bath, read you books at bedtime, tuck you in, come back in when you have nightmares, and he’s there for more of the same every other day of the week. What? You look at Linda like she’s crazy. Nuh-uh , you say, Yuh-huh , she says Ask anyone , and you say I don’t have to ask anyone, I know what’s true , and she says You don’t! and you say I do too! My daddy makes the dinner! and Linda says No he does not , and you say He does too! and Linda asks Well why doesn’t your momma make dinner? That’s the right way , and you tell her your mommy goes away to work, and Linda shakes her head and says Oooh , like this is just terrible, says That ain’t right . You say Don’t say that! She says Well it ain’t. The momma takes care of the babies and the daddy goes to work . You say Shut up! kicking down the cushion that’s holding the whole structure in place. Linda says Oooh, that’s not nice, I’m telling . You stop yourself from saying she’s lucky you didn’t kick her. You say Well, I’m telling, too , even though as soon as you say it you’re not quite sure what it is you might be telling.
    You run home and enter the house yelling. Daddy! Daddy! Linda was mean! What? I’m sure she didn’t mean to be, come tell meabout it. I told her the daddy makes dinner and she said that ain’t right. Isn’t right , he says. Isn’t right , you say; you’re prone to picking up poor grammar habits, he’s prone to nipping that in the bud. Well, pumpkin, we are doing it just a little differently than some people do it right now , he says. What do you mean? When I was growing up , he says, more often than not, mommies stayed home and daddies went to work. That’s how my folks did it, although my mother was a schoolteacher briefly before she married my father. Waaaay back before I was born, if women worked, it was usually before they got married, or it was in very specific fields: schoolteachers, nurses, like that. Now things are changing, and some mommies are also going to work. It might seem different to Linda. But that doesn’t make it wrong. It’s not wrong. When he says these last two sentences, you’re not fully convinced that he’s fully convinced. You’re a perceptive kid, but you’re four, not in any position to challenge him. Fred’s changing with the times, semi-reluctantly. He has the sense that when you grow up, you might be able to do whatever you might like to do, and he wants this for