Running away.

Sherry and I stopped for coffee during our perambulating loop around Waterloo this afternoon, and among other conversational topics, ended up discussing what our Dads would put in their “running away kits” (like little kids assemble). (She’s written about this, but you only get my end of things.) I believe it all started with me recounting the conversation I’d had with my Mom about why Dad would never be allowed in a nursing home (see: air compressor/oiling rig and chainsaw below).

Murray would have (including but not limited to): three apples, glasses cleaner, a roll of paper towels, wooden matches, a tire pressure gauge, a newspaper, a tool of some kind (not sure which one), and probably his chainsaw and air compressor/oiling rig.

I think mine would have books, my Swiss Army knife, a molasses cookie, a notebook and pencil, a bandanna, and hand cream.

No pets, you might say? I don’t technically have any. I also do not have one favourite rubber duck. I cannot say, however, that I would not stop off and snatch Gordie. (Barney doesn’t need me.)

What would you take?

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