Over Hill and Dale

When I was about five years old, I lived within walking distance of Mirror Lake. My favorite babysitter, Ursula, would walk up the hill with me to the little grocery store on the corner (it was called Universal, even though it was anything but) and buy the cheapest bread we could find. Then we would go and feed the ducks at Mirror Lake (which was really a glorified pond). We would often be met by two UCONN students, roommates, Sunny and Dale. Sunny was taller and blonde, while Dale was shorter with brown hair and eyes, but a fabulous smile.

It took me awhile to figure out that Sunny was Ursula’s boyfriend, and Dale was the good-natured friend brought along to entertain me. I couldn’t understand why Ursula would want Sunny because Dale had one quality that distinguished him as the perfect mate as only a five year old girl could see it. Dale could get the ducks to sit in his lap. To me this was the single most amazing feat of human achievement. That Ursula didn’t recognize it was, to my mind, a travesty of justice. So I did what I could to make him feel better, marveling at his abilities.

Unfortunately, as all things do, the relationship between Sunny and Ursula didn’t last and so I no longer saw Dale. Though I spent many days trying to charm the ducks to sit in my lap, I never succeeded.