A sad, and yet beautiful story, from my dear friend Ken Sheetz.
When I was almost 5 years old my parents sent me off for a Labor Day weekend with my favorite aunt Katie, who was only twenty-two. A striking brunette full of mirth, Katie had been in her teens when she had kids. So in many ways she felt as much like a big sister as an aunt.
Katie had a new boyfriend with kids too and we all piled into an old Chevy station wagon and drove from St. Francis, a quaint blue-collar neighborhood in Milwaukee, for Devil’s Lake. The way Katie lovingly dealt with her boisterous kids in the crowded station wagon, rather than beatings or harsh words my dad used to create order, was as new and wonderful to me as the alien worlds I would one day as an adult visit on the astral plane in meditation.
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