The Better Question

Mr. Luiz carries a fragrant hint of barbecued chicken wings about him on Monday nights. Monday nights are trivia nights at the local barbecue place, where Mr. Luiz and his wife go to replace stress with laughter because games do that for them. My parents and I try to play a game with them every time we have dinner together because their laughter is very contagious.

Ms. Kaye giggles when she confesses a slip in her diligent care of herself following a battle with breast cancer. Once a year, on a popular holiday, she splurges on a hot dog smothered in ketchup, mustard, and extra dill relish. For her birthday, we got her a jar of dill pickles because birthdays should allow splurging, too. Ms. Kaye still giggles about that jar of pickles.

Biscuit is my fur friend down the street. He's the size of my leg and almost completely blind. His brother makes a lot of noise when he sees my parents walking me toward their house, so Biscuit's dad will pick up the brother and put him in the house so I can lay on their driveway. Biscuit sniffs the air until he finds me and, when he does, then pounces on my head and back. I let him play on me all he wants until his cheeks touch the back of his ears, even though he can't see that they do.

Questions like "Why have you?" or "Why haven't you?", "Did you?" or "Didn't you?", "Are you?" or "Aren't you?" didn't help my mom and my dad and me learn the importance of trivia night and dill pickles and puppies playing until their cheeks pull into ears. Those questions can't turn a neighborhood into a community nor a friend into family. 

A better question can.



Older Post Newer Post