After we moved to 55 Pine Hill Road, Ray started a new tradition. On hot summer nights, maybe a half-hour after we'd all skulked off to bed, we'd hear the blender whir and grind. It only took the first instance for us to know—it was fruit smoothie time! He would pop ice cubes, fresh peaches, a bit of cream or milk, maybe a tiny bit of sugar, and ... Whirrrrrrrr!!! The roly-poly glasses would be pulled down to the counter top, and anybody languishing in their bed, unable to sleep, could nonchalantly meander back into the kitchen (rubbing their eyes for good effect) to claim their cup.
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Gifts From My Dad
Non-FictionA tribute to my father, Carroll Raymond Bryan, Jr. This bit of writing is my gift to my father who passed from this world three weeks ago. It is about art and love, and anything that is not up to that measure will not be found here. Author, artist...
