"Hurry up, Dad!!!!"

I had a flashback to childhood Sunday morning.

I bumped into the Purcell family after Mass at St. Joseph's and said hello to the patriarch, sharing with him my taste of celebrity experience from the night before. I told him because I knew his son, who had become a minor celebrity after miraculously surviving being shot in the femoral artery while on duty as a police officer, would be able to relate to what happened to me.

Our conversation kept going...and going...and going.....and soon enough his wife joined in and our conversation somehow shifted to the Summer of Mercy abortion protests in 1991.

Before we knew it, no one else was left standing in front of the church - well, except for their young children. Who had the same tortured look my siblings and I so often did as we waited....and waited....and waited......for Dad to stop talking to folks after church at Holy Rosary in Burdett.

Dad talked forever after church. At least, it seemed like that to us little ones, who were more than eager to get home and get out of our "church clothes." It didn't dawn on me for years that the reason Dad liked to talk after church was because life on the farm can be very isolating, with limited opportunities for conversation outside the family.

I used to joke that Dad could talk to a tree for three hours....but after a few weeks on the farm with no one to, I couldn't blame him if he did want to talk to a tree for three hours. 

If I ever take the step of becoming a freelance writer/novelist working from home, I'll face similar challenges. Though, presuming I'm in a city, it won't be quite as difficult to find conversation.

Still, I had to chuckle when I heard the audible sighs of the Purcell kids on Sunday. I know that sound well.