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<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"There is a joke connected to these pictures but I can’t remember what it is. Jean probably remembers and I am sure Mum does. The jist of it goes: someone (a friend of my parents) had a statue of the Virgin Mary. We live in the southern half of Rhode Island – where religious statuary in the yard is not as prevalent as in the northern half of the state, which is mainly Italian. (Mitchell, Sandi and I used to, for fun, drive through rich estates in Cranston and Warwick, going on “statue tours”. It was hysterical). So someone had a statue of Mary and it became a joke – this friend would leave Mary on our steps, ring the doorbell and then run away. Mum or Dad would open the door, look out, see nobody, then glance down and see THAT. It was then up to them to return the favor, and surreptitiously place Mary somewhere where the neighbor would see her. Mary turned up everywhere. Girl got around.<\/p>\n
I came home one weekend, went down into the cellar to get something … and there she was at the foot of the stairs. Waiting for her next placement.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There is a joke connected to these pictures but I can’t remember what it is. Jean probably remembers and I am sure Mum does. The jist of it goes: someone (a friend of my parents) had a statue of the … Continue reading