This week Cordelia’s Mom a/k/a CookieCakes is whining (oh, boo-hoo-hoo) about how run-down the village she grew up in looks now (“Fifty Years Later”).
I have news for her – that village always was a decrepit blight in that corner of New York State. I know because I grew up outside the village, in a very nice home in one of the newer developments.
But my parents had money, while CookieCakes’ dad was a roofing contractor (heaven forbid), and her mother was a stay-at-homer.
Apparently, CookieCakes’ parents thought it was all right for a mother to just sit at home catering to all her little princes and princesses. What a drag that must have been. Can you imagine your mom being able to watch your every move, every single day? My mother didn’t work, either (in the 1950s and 1960s, most moms didn’t work), but at least my mother had the good sense to go out for most of every day, leaving us kids to do whatever we wanted whenever we wanted. That was awesome. Someday I will tell you some of my growing-up stories!
Anyway, I always felt a little sorry for CookieCakes. While my friends and I were running around having fun, CookieCakes was at home either studying or helping her mom. I hear they even liked to bake together (gag me with a spoon).
One time, I asked CookieCakes if she wanted to go horseback riding with me and my friends, and do you know – she not only had to ask her mother, but then her mother said there was no money for horseback riding. No money? I never, ever had anyone say that to me!
And I heard that sometimes CookieCakes had to wear hand-me-downs from relatives. How sad is that?
Maybe I should send some money to CookieCakes now so she’ll stop whining – not! I’m enjoying my life as a wealthy retiree – let CookieCakes suffer the consequences of being too stupid to be born rich or to marry rich.
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