”“Feel what?” I asked.“Peace. Calm. Tranquility. Pick a word.”“I can understand how you could feel that way. The doc said you are in good ...hape. You SHOULD feel better.” I said.My bald wife smiled at me, with that expression that she knew something that I didn’t. I sat there in the drivers seat and watched the last of the girls and our two wives left the garage. I turned to look at Lynn again.“OK, Lover, give.”“Oh boy!” She reached for the front of my pants.“No! Stop that. What’s going on,. “Sundays were for ‘The Lord’. Apparently the Lord didn’t like people enjoying themselves, so Sundays were for church and reading ‘good books’ - the bible, obviously; Fox’s Book of Martyrs, not a cheerful read; a book of sermons, providing they were drab, depressing sermons. The Sabbath was not for work, so homework was out. There were days when I got up at 4am on the Monday to complete my homework. That was acceptable to my mother.”“What about your father?”“He was an Elder in the church. Mother. More

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