Height hath its privileges. Everyone remembers, growing up, that one well-meaning old lady who took an unfortunate liking to you and regularly placed her face in close proximity to yours, often with the dreadful purpose of planting a kiss on the cheek that she could so easily reach. In retrospect I see that Mrs. Wilson was a well-mannered, warm-hearted lady who genuinely liked me. Her sterling qualities were quite lost on me at the time. 'Twas with exceeding joy that I discovered one day that while she was affixed at one unchanging altitude, I was doing a passable imitation of a redwood tree. After just a few years, I had succeeded in escaping vertically from her dire clutches. She still came well within my Western notion of personal space, but my bending down for a kiss was clearly out of the question, and she decided (quite prudently, I thought) that kissing my chest was not a viable option.
Copyright 1995 Jonathan SjørdalReturn to Jonathan's Home Page