A Maplopo Original:
by Doc Kane,
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Sam’s family was infinitely more prestiged than V’s, but despite their upbringing, remained as humble and respectful of others as if they had just gotten off the boat. For Sam herself, in particular—not a clique beckoned, not a cold word expressed.
Through and through, though, she was tied to tradition. To honor. To fancy. Quite a bit for a thirteen year old, actually. She sure did warm to it, though, like a natural.
“Mom! Pie tonight?”
“Pie?” Samantha, now what in the world are you talking about? You want pie for dinner?”
“Mom—I mean Shepherd’s pie… can we have some?”
“Well, it’s a little too close to dinner to whip that up, but, how about Sunday after mass… okay?”
“Okay, mom… thanks.”
Everything “Britain” was Sam’s comfort food.
She dreamed of past kings, of rebellions, of civil war. Of settlers to America, of conquest, and how ultimately her own relatives decided it was best to no longer be thought of as British.
She would trace their family’s path throughout their time in America—the family ethonographer at thirteen. 1865. What side? 1915. Europe or America? 1940… the same question. She read, and read, and read. Family journals, history books. Scout manuals.
Yes, the scouts.
In fact, it was Sam’s involvement in the Girl Scouts that first kindled her wonder in the flag…
… to be continued.
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