Sock-It-To-Me Surprise Moments

“Saylor.” A lightning bolt struck my spine. I know that “voice.”

As I eyed my pathetic little blog this morning, I scrolled to the bottom of my most recent post, “Just Write,” and there I saw an encouraging comment from my dad.

With him, negativity isn’t tolerated. He gets nervous every time he hears me say or write something that sounds even remotely negative — especially if I’m knocking myself. Not his Saylor. She’s an unstoppable force.

I’ve been named the weeping willow of the family because I cry at most anything. Happy or sad. I think they gave me — the youngest — the title so to take the pressure off them. We’re all criers. All but my brother. He’s as thick-skinned as they come.

I earned my title today, buddy.

He hit me hard with that one. Does insurance cover a waterlogged keyboard?

That’s the second time he’s hit me with what I call “sock-it-to-me surprise moments.” Sure, he’s surprised me in my life, but I’m always on hyper-alert for things, so I’m not easily startled.

The first socking happened when I was a pre-teen. It was Christmas morning, mom was cooking and Dad asked me to ride with him to his friend’s house because he kept getting scolded for swiping slices of turkey. I complied. I’d be getting out of housework, right?

At his friend’s house, he asked me if I wanted to see the motorcycles in the garage.


He pointed out the Harley, the this and the that, and then he pointed to one in the very back of the garage. There she was: Miss Dancer.

Miss Dancer was a small fiberglass boat. All my friends at the yacht club had one while I rowed around a huge greenish dinosaur of a tub-like boat. I hated it at times, though secretly content to row my heart out in anything.

When I saw my shiny new white fiberglass boat with my own special name, I knew I’d arrived at elite status and it was real. Mine.

Since that very moment, any surprise has been measured against that one. Today’s is a close second, I must admit. And I’m proud that Dad holds the titles of winner and runner-up.

*Please note the time. I’m nearly 12 hours early!

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