THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, May 26, 1996 TAG: 9605230053
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K1 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: HE SAID, SHE SAID
SOURCE: KERRY DOUGHERTY & DAVE ADDIS
LENGTH: 79 lines
KERRY SAYS:
If this weren't our final He Said/She Said column, I'd probably begin this with a riddle: How can you always spot the children of working mothers in group school pictures?
Answer: They're the ones with mismatched clothes and uncombed hair.
Because I won't be writing at length about this topic, I would like to take this opportunity to publicly apologize to all the other parents in my son's kindergarten class. To all of you conscientious parents who actually wrote down the date of the school picture last month and bathed your dears in advance, I'm sorry.
What can I say? School picture day sneaked up on me. I was harried. As a time-saving measure, I had decided it would be all right for my 6-year-old to select his own wardrobe that week. Hence, the turquoise socks, the torn shorts and the T-shirt with a droopy neck.
Oh, yes, he was also having a bad hair day, too. Even though I did chase him and his frizzy head around with a hairbrush before taking him to school, I confess that I never actually caught him.
Evidently, the photographer booted him into a back row so you wouldn't see his dirty knees and ragged Band-aids.
But, Dave, this is the last time I get to actually write to you, so I'm not going to waste all my space moaning about how my son looked like a human tumbleweed who blew into the school picture while all the other little lads and lassies were spic and span.
I'm worrying about something else. I'm wondering how I'll be able to vent about all those crazy little things my husband does every week. You see, since we started writing this column, I've stopped complaining around the house.
Steve does something dumb, and instead of getting angry like I used to, I get a smug smile and head for my computer.
``I feel a column coming on'' has been a very effective peacekeeping phrase in our house.
I'm going to miss you, buddy. So is Steve. When times got rough, he always knew there was someone on his side: you.
To show my appreciation, Davey, I'm even going to give you the last word.
DAVE SAYS:
Knowing you as I do, Kerry, I'm not convinced that whatever I say here will be the last word about anything.
If I moved to Bora-Bora, I could rest assured that sooner or later a tramp steamer would tie up in port one day and a midget in a bad suit would come running down the beach waving a wrinkled, ratty old letter for me, and it would be you tracking me down to say, ``I told you so, chrome-dome,'' or some similar endearment.
And I know it would make me smile.
For anyone who hasn't figured it out yet, Kerry and I are signing off after 16 months of testing one another's wits and patience every Sunday. We've both been given new assignments that keep us pretty much out of each other's hair. Much to our regret.
Kerry is grazing the greener pastures of the editorial pages. I'm grazing a new sort of pasture as well, and trying to skip carefully around those nasty little cow-pies that nature keeps dropping in our paths.
But before we leave this space, Kerry, we should thank a few folks. First, there are the editors who cooked up the idea to begin with. As steely-eyed reporters, we've been trained by experience to flee in horror when a light bulb goes off above an editor's head. This time they were right.
And let's not forget your husband, Steve, and my fiancee, Kay, who've been such good sports about having their laundry hung out to dry in public every week. Lord knows, Kerry, we'd both be ducking process servers and sleeping on steam grates by now if they didn't have a sense of humor.
But the last thanks go to you, kid. Although I'm the son of a working mom, was once married to a working mom, and am now engaged to a working mom, a decade of living alone made me forget how tough things can get for you folks.
I needed a reminder, and you gave it to me - as did a lot of very nice readers, especially that one lady who always refers to me as ``that bearded ass.''
So the next time I'm run off the road in morning rush hour by some wild-eyed mom in a minivan who's juggling a telephone, a lipstick tube, a coffee cup and two ankle-biters, I'll suppress that urge to lean on the horn.
Who knows, Kerry, it might be you. MEMO: Kerry Dougherty can be reached at 446-2306 and via e-mail at
kerryd(AT)norfolk.infi.net. Dave Addis can be reached at 446-2588 and
addis(AT)worldnet.att.net by CNB