Every February, Dad has to bust out the story the Blizzard of 2011 and the days that followed. It was an amazing week, but after twenty years, the story has gotten old.
"Nine feet high, the snow was."
"I thought you said it was eight, tops. Not counting the drifts, of course."
"I'm not sure I like your tone, young man." But his annoyance is fleeting. "Nine feet high. The drift back by the garage was so high we couldn't see the door. You remember, the door we painted orange, because that's your favorite color?"
"Yes, it was my favorite color, when I was four."
Dad waves his hand dismissively. He reaches inside his pocket and pulls out an ancient flash drive. "I found the pictures."
"I can't plug that into my phone, Dad. They stopped making those things ages ago."
Dad looks momentarily deflated, then he brightens again. "You and the neighbor kids built a snow fort in the front yard. Oh, that reminds me - I ran into Dana at the grocery store."
"Wow - I haven't talked to her since high school. Last I heard she was working on the Sheen campaign."
"Really? She didn't strike me as a fan of Martin."
"Not Martin Sheen."
"Oh. Hmm." A long pause. "I really don't understand what that guy is thinking. At least his dad played the President on TV."
"Dad, I really don't want to talk about politics."
"I remember back when he was a wild one. Parties, hookers. He lost all his teeth." Dad laughs. "Well, we've had worse dynasties."
Now it's my turn to be dismissive. "Maybe 'Tis more noble to forgive' was a good choice for his campaign slogan, then."
"I always hoped his brother would run instead - he had some really good ideas about education." He looks down at the flash drive. "So you're sure -"
"Look, Dad, I don't -"
"Never mind, then." The flash drive disappears back into his pocket. "Anyway, I remember that the public schools were shut down all week."
"Two days. Dad, I've heard this story a million times. How about we talk about something that's happened in, I don't know, the current decade?"
"Like what? Rumors of Favre's retirement?"
"Geez, I hope those aren't rumors. That guy has got to go."
"Speaking of football - now the Super Bowl that year, what a game."
"So I've heard."
"What? You watched the game with us."
"I was six."
"Temperature of 103, and you stayed up for the whole game."
"Mostly I wanted to see the halftime show."
"Ah yes, Fergie."
"I was six. I liked the music."
"She'd be an interesting First Lady."
"That's just a rumor."
Just then, Mom calls from the kitchen. "Quinn? Paul? It's time for dinner."
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