by Della Croft
Dear Mom and Dad,
On Thanksgiving we should reflect on our good fortune and give thanks for all our blessings. Naturally I feel that I should be thankful for the two of you, but I began thinking of all the mean things you did to me as a child and felt the time has come for me to expose your cruelty to the world.
Why did you never go in debt to send us to exotic locations complete with tourist traps and plastic momentos? We were subjected to family vacations in a tent, forced to enjoy the outdoors, campfires, S’mores, games and fishing with you, Dad. Knee deep in the ocean, raking clams with Pappy, we heard his childhood stories and his take on life. Honestly, is this any way to have fun?
Every summer vacation my friends were sent to neat sitters who let them watch TV all day and I was sent to spend time with my grandparents! How could you? Do you have any idea what they did to me? Mom, your mother taught me to bake bread and play gin rummy. Did you know Aunt Joanne often came from next door while I was visiting your parents and took me to Bible School and Church? Dad, your mother did unspeakable things to me! She taught me how to crochet and do needlework and danced when she mashed potatoes. I have nothing to tell a therapist. Thanks a lot.
You never cared enough about me to leave me with a sitter, instead you worked alternate shifts so one of you was always home. You never put yourself in debt to provide me with designer clothing and shoes, I was made to wear sensible shoes and clothing made to last; even (gasp) hand-me-downs! You were more concerned that I was neat and warm instead of stylish, some parents you were.
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