The Reindeer Keeper

 I can't remember when it started but I do know he kept doing it into adulthood. It's one of those really, really funny, simple things you just don't forget. And of course, you never let the one doing it forget, even when they've stopped doing it. The one doing it was my older brother. It was what one would call a slip of the tongue and whenever he slipped, anyone around him would laugh. Rather, roar. The slip would happen when the discussion of what to have for breakfast came up. It didn't happen every time. It never happened on school mornings. We had enough problems getting ready for the school bus. A quick bowl of cereal or some toast was the usual breakfast. But when it came to weekends or holidays, that was a different story. It could have happened at our house or next door at my grandmother's house. If it was at my grandmother's house, the audience would have been larger. That could have included cousins, aunts and of course, siblings and our grandmot...

 My younger brother was born in the month of May. Not long after his birth, my mother ended up in the hospital with blood clots in her leg. She spent a good part of the summer there and I spent alot of time with the new baby being cared for by my aunt just next door. I was eleven or twelve and that summer was all about the baby. As he grew-our bond became even closer. And one of the many things entwined in that bond was french toast-along with the citing of the first snowflakes falling and dancing aound the house to most any jitterbugging song on the radio. My little brother thought I was the best french toast maker ever-ever! But honestly-in today's french toast standards-my version of this breakfast tradition was rather simple. I only used Wonder bread because that is what my parents bought at the A & P. There were no fancy baked breads or Italian or French breads perfectly sliced in our home-just Wonder bread with those red, yellow, and blue balloons printed on the ...