Tyrades!

At approximately the time this

column is uploaded to the syndicate

website, I will be attending

the funeral of my Aunt Jean.

I’m sure the eulogist will wax

eloquent about heaven, but I want

to nominate Aunt Jean to the

Babysitter Hall of Fame.

When I was six and my brother

Dwight was four, our parents

dumped … er, entrusted… us to

Aunt Jean while they attended a

social event at the local municipal

recreation center.

A boringly routine assignment,

except that as soon as our parents

drove away, Dwight developed

separation anxiety and wailed, “I

wanna go to the re’reation center!”

Dwight darted o...