“I’m serious young man, how did you get here?” mom asked in her familiar bark.
“I hitch-hiked, it only took three rides to get here.”
“Then where is your father, and why didn’t he pick you up at John Harrison’s office?”
“I guess I didn’t give him a chance” (an unwritten “Schmidt Men’s code” was to cover for each other) I said in sarcastic battle mode.
“Don’t lay that crap on me. Do you expect me to believe you just up and hitch-hiked all the way here? Do you know how dangerous that would be? Never hitch-hike. I’ve told you we never pick up hitch-hikers, and thumbing a ride is just as bad. You could have been kidnapped, or worse!”
“Well Harrison told me to go where my heart told me to go,” I said to the straight-forwardest of my ability.
“Like hell he did! What is he a quack? No! He has a lot of books out and researched at Duke and UNC at the same time…you know, that’s unheardof.”
Featured Image is by Anna Podris.