Greeted with Shrugs

by John Ziegler

Who cares about another baby? Was the resounding echo across the Ziegler family and North America in March of ‘83. Maw Maw came to help out, but she was smitten with the brand new Baskin Robbins. She went everyday for a week (nothing like it in Tensas Parish) and brought home pints of rocky road and country vanilla for mom. The ice cream passed through her breasts to me, and left as infant flatulence.

Jaundice crept into my newborn body right away. Forget about the Billy-Reuben light, said Dr. Terrell. Just leave him out in the sun for awhile. So I lay in the rear of a Datsun in the back yard of the Robin Hood Drive rental house. The pine tree pollen powdered my squirming arms and legs and soft fontenelle with a fine dust, making my skin, eyes, and tears even yellower.

Ben and Adam were too engrossed in G.I. Joe burial services in the front flowerbed to notice another brother. Dad drove back and forth between the rental house and the one newly bought in Magnolia Gardens, checking the encroaching flood brought by hefty spring rain.

Most people just kept drinking, smoking, and driving American big cars. Most people continued reading about life after Grace in Monaco, Jessica Lange’s country-girl roots, and all the different ways you can employ Hormel Beef Franks, now in a new easy-to-open can.

John Ziegler graduated from Prescott College in 2008. He studied writing, literature, and natural history. He was born and raised in Louisiana and he now lives in New York.

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