Feb 19, 2008

My mom never considered a wild goose chase a bad thing. Sure, last time it didn't work out, but this time we might find something really worth the trip.

So, while I, the oldest and the permanent pessimist in the Silliman household, would complain that this was stupid, that this was a waste, that she always said we would find great things, but we never did, my mom would load us all into the car and we'd head off for our latest adventure.

Our cars were always as big as ships, and sort of swayed down the street. We'd all be piled into the latest, extra-long station wagon or clunking and fuming van: Josh, then the baby, strapped into his car seat, Valerie chattering happily up front, David and Michael in the back playing wild games, and me staring gloomily out the window.

I remember saying the phrase, "wild goose chase" a lot. I don't remember it making any difference.

Read the full column @ the Clayton News Daily:
My mom, the undying optimist