Each morning before the school bus arrived, Winifred Smith Oliver, our mother, would douse my brother, James, and me with so much Vitalis Hair Tonic for Men, we could have easily qualified as federally-designated Superfund Sites. A rigorous rooting about of our four ear canals with Q-Tip brand swabs preceded the Vitalis tsunami. Once our clip-on ties were firmly attached to our respective necks, we scampered to the front of The Pink Palace property to await Walt, the taciturn driver and his yellow bus. Our lunch boxes jangled on the out-bound and in-bound segments of our daily journey. Such was my family’s devotion to scholarship. With the children gone, Winifred could begin drinking in earnest and this she did.
© 2024 John Oliver
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