My Daddy liked lemon in his tea.  Every night he wanted lemon in his tea.  I guess that is where I get my love for tea.  I like a nice slice of lemon too. My Mom would buy those little plastic squeeze lemons for my Dad to use. Sometimes the holes weren't punched very well in them.  My Dad had a little bit of a temper.  I remember one night after a long day at work that we sat down for dinner.  (Just think, that was a time that families actually sat down and ate together.)  My Dad reached for the lemon, and the hole had not been punched.  He squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, and nothing came out.  Then he ran to the back door, said a few "choice words," and hurled that lemon across the back yard, by the bumper shop and across the railroad tracks.  A hush fell over the dinner table.......................................................


No lemon tonight.