The Spaces Between Your Fingers

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This postcard arrived via snail mail, hand-written, with a cartoon drawn by the 84-year-old author and a note:

I was six when Great Grandfather Tauder came to visit.  

We walked around the dusty farmyard, he with his walking stick, me with my imagination.  I wanted to impress this white-whiskered man I found so endearing.  Being the youngest and only girl in a family of boys, I did what I'd been practicing for weeks.  I spit. 

This was no ordinary spit.  It arced through the sky and landed squarely on the top of Tauder's shiny black leather shoe.

I can still see the dust balls rolling across that shoe.

Tauder didn't miss a beat as he exclaimed: "Ladies don't spit!"

A lesson I remember to this day.

How One Girl Became a Lady

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