SMI - 7/6/2013

The old Saturday Morning Inspection. When I went to college at The Citadel, one of our weekly rituals was the old SMI, every Saturday. Rooms had to be spotless, floors scrubbed, all clothing in its proper place, use the Blitz Cloth to get all the brass shiney, "spit shined" shoes. It generally took all of Friday evening to get ready for Saturday. Often after SMI, a parade on the parade grounds. Then the afternoon evening and night were ours. Sometimes, after all of that, you were too exhausted to do anything, perhaps that was their purpose. I still "clean" on Saturday mornings, Alice Tuttle, in Reno, did her housecleaning on Saturday morning.

Early on, Saturday morning was "kids" time, Big John and Sparky, Let's Pretend,  "I'm Buster Brown, I live in a shoe. Here's my dog Tige, he lives with me too," or something like that. Saturday mornings are a good thing, always have been.


Had a revelation of sorts last night, on Facebook. My Daughter in Law, Bernie, had a birthday. She posted a picture. For a few seconds, I wondered who she was with ... then I knew, she was with my Son, my little boy, who is now a man, and, in my defense, he was wearing glasses which I had never seen. Little Brad is no more, he is Mister Dooley, my Son, married, living in North Carolina with his wife, Bernie, in a beautiful home. Proud, you might say that.