Back Story

When the SJG was a little gal, my dad convinced me he was a very strong man, stronger than Tarzan.

Stronger than Jack LaLanne.

When the SJG was a little gal, my dad convinced me he could move the house all on his own.  He'd say, "Watch this, Daddy's going to make the house move."  He'd push against the wall and grunt.

And I'd totally buy it.  I was four.

Then one day, before remote controls made magical things happen, let's call it the early '60s, my dad got out of the car and went to open the heavy wooden garage door.   The little SJG figured he wasn't just going to move the house, he was going to lift it right off its foundation.  How many daddies could do that?  Mid-lift, his back went out.   He was frozen in pain.  "Go get your mother," he said.  "Hurry." So I ran and got my mother.  "Daddy got stuck moving the house," I told her.

It took me a while to question the whole house-moving scenario.

The other day, I finally broached the subject.  "Dad, when did I stop believing you could move the house?"  "On your 45 birthday."  "How did I take it?"  "Not well.  You're still not over it."