It’s once again time for the old man to embarrass his twin girls, Ericca Francis and Eileen Catherine.
This was not at all the column I’d planned to write this Monday.
Actually, I don’t plan very many of them, they just seem to come out of my fingertips moments before they’re due.
In any case, I was looking through some photos of all the kids when I came across a little-remembered pageant the twins were in during their elementary school years. Yours truly and my brother Kris, the toughest kid in all of Butler, Utah, history, were asked to leave the school auditorium during the musical part of the program.
We didn’t actually climb on the stage to take part in the festivities, but we did manage to put the sneak on the mousey vice principal who had told us “responsible parents remain in their seats while photographing their children’s programs,” etc., etc.
After this “terrifying” reprimand, we returned, under the vice principal’s eagle eye, to our seats. There, as was Kris’s way, a plan with a might-work-getaway was formed.
We rearmed our cameras with film.
Mine was one of those 60-second jobs and Kris had one that looked like it came out of a spies-r-us surplus store.
I was to gently make my way up the right side of the auditorium while Kris was going to boldly march up the center aisle, hoping to distract the “V.P. of conduct” long enough for me to get an up close and personal picture of the twins.
Now, as life will have it, there was a flaw or two in Kris’s plan. The one-handed death grip each of our wives had on our shirts had to be dealt with first, and second, we had to avoid looking directly at the wagging finger of “don’t you dare.”
We broke away, each headed for our prearranged spot in the auditorium. The girls started poking each other and giggling when they saw Uncle Kris stand up and start marching right down the middle aisle. I became one with the darkened south wall and quickly made my way to the stage.
A moment here to those among you that might see one of these 60-second cameras in the antique store and be pondering on it’s purchase.
If you can get within four or five feet of the object-de-photo, buy it. If not, buy a good cigar and dream of the day your spouse will let you smoke it in the kitchen.
As Kris made his way down the center aisle, I was up on the first step of the pullout stage snapping away. You’re right, I wasn’t close enough, and somehow I got between two kids and wiggled my way up to the second story of the pullout stage and crawled within two feet of the girls.
Half of this stage full of singing and clapping kids was watching Kris, the toughest kid in all of Butler, Utah, history, calmly come straight down the aisle taking pictures and blinding them with the constant flash of his spies-r-us camera.
For some yet unknown reason, I decided that it was time for me to raise up. Truthfully, I jumped up, got three of the best pictures of the night and tried out my part of the getaway.
Another short note here for the overzealous parents among us — if you attempt this feat and your spouse is within a mile of you, there is no getaway from the wagging finger of “I told you so.”
Hey, you be careful out there and stay to the light.