When I was a little girl, nothing was as exciting as spending the night at Nana and Papa’s house. With a swimming pool shaped like a whale and the promise of Papa making his signature silver dollar pancakes in the morning, nothing could be. At night, I’d get into Nana and Papa’s bed and sleep between them. Every time, without fail, Papa snored. He didn’t just snore, he snored loud. Very loud. In the morning, Nana would complain. But I decided that I would teach myself to love snoring – to be soothed by it.
And I succeeded. Not only do I not mind the sound of snoring now, but whoever is next to me in bed has never snored as loud as Papa. This is just one of the many ways he’s influenced my life. Continue reading “My Papa, Jerry Barton”
Alison Doherty 