Running a little late folks, sorry, just arriving.

Was working overtime at my other job.

I'm a peanut vendor for pickleball tournaments,

and the matches went long.

Sorry about that, but we're good, I'll be good here.

Be ready by the time the theme song ends.

Okay, here we go.

My name's Mishki.

Okay, we're gonna be good, we're gonna be good. We're happy? Is everybody happy?

When my brothers and sisters and I were little, my dad would take us to McDonald's before heading north to the lake cabin.

He knew that the station wagon, packed tightly with ten people, would be relatively quiet for a spell if we were enjoying our meals. And he knew he and mom could then

have a nice quiet ride for a stretch before some of us started to get antsy and whiny and ask how much

longer we were going to have to sit crammed into this station wagon. Back then, when you went to McDonald's, this is the early 70s,

they'd give you a suitcase to carry everything in, a cardboard suitcase. I think families were

much larger back then, and McDonald's needed something like a suitcase for the big orders,

the big family orders. Simple bags wouldn't cut it.

Anyway, I remember Dad getting in the car with that suitcase full of food and all of us emptying it,

and Dad saying in a loud voice, is everybody happy? And we'd all shout yes in unison, and he looked so pleased.

He had taken care of his whole brood in one relatively quick action. And now he could drive

and listen to Herb Carneal deliver the Twins play-by-play broadcast in peace,

with mom next to them reading good housekeeping magazine or ladies' home journal,

with one of the little ones asleep on her lap.

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