One definition of sarcasm is “witty language used to convey insults”. It is usually reserved for friends and family to demonstrate the strength of the bond between them, knowing they can say it with out hurting the feelings of the other one. Sarcasm is not for the faint of heart. It must be delivered with some jocularity and just the right amount of bite.

How do I know so much about this subject, you might wonder? Well boys and girls, I was raised on sarcasm, it runs rampant in the Stedge family. Not just my immediate family, but my aunts, uncles and cousins. In order to fit in I had to become adept at the art. Some people think I excel at the sport.

From the time I was 12 years old, I endured insults and jabs, mostly at the dinner table, but there were drive-by insults too. For example, I would emerge from my bedroom ready for church in a colorful outfit, and my Dad would comment that I looked like a rainbow, not too bad, but then would say my legs appeared to be “broomsticks with feet”, ouch.

Then there were the attacks on my cooking abilities. I used to fix dinner for Dad and my Brothers some nights, because Mom worked afternoons at the Medical Facility in Hastings. One night I made macaroni salad. I cooked way too much macaroni and we ate it til it went bad. From then on I was kidded about having to get the wash tubs out because I was making macaroni salad again. I remember one particular incident as my Dad was coming to the dinner table, he asked me if they” said they were sorry”. I asked “who?” He answered,” the person who stepped on your face.” That had everyone rolling on the floor, including me.

I carried this ability to give and take sarcasm to High School with me. In our Junior year, Bob and Larry and I had what can only be called “slam contests” everyday in Mr. Jones’ English class. My best slam by far was telling them both that they were about as “handy as a screen door on a submarine”.

Recently, I got together with Larry (after looking for him for forty one years) and was delighted to find that we could pick up right where we left off with the insults. ( His lack of hair and my terminal shortness.) Oh my GAWD that was fun!

So here’s the deal, if I am sarcastic with you, it means you are a special friend. It’s my way of saying “I love you, man”. If you take offense, then” bite me”. I’m just sayin’…

Today is a bittersweet day for me. For you see it is 9/11, a day forever emblazoned in our memories eight years ago. It is also the day my first grandchild was born 12 years ago.

Sam and I were eating supper when we got the call that Max was coming into the world. We dropped everything and headed to the hospital to await his arrival. It was a small birthing room, so we waited in the (what else?) waiting room. We were periodically updated on everything, including Andrew’s near-fainting spells. It, along with the birth of our Granddaughter Addie are among the best days of my life. We met when he was only 5 minutes old and have been fast friends ever since.

I am sure we all remember where we were and what we were doing on that fateful day 8 years ago. The images on our television are still etched in my mind as I watched in horror when the second plane sliced through the South Tower. My mind immediately raced to my Grandchildren and my Son, Andy who was working at a federal installation at the time. Notice the order of concern. If you are a grandparent you totally understand.

For days we watched the terror unfold, as we heard horrific stories of loss. The nation was in shock from being attacked on our home soil. But I am telling you nothing, because we all went through it. The heroes are those who lost their lives by merely going about their daily routines, and those they left behind who must carry on.

So today I will celebrate the life that came into the world 12 years ago, and remember the day that brought us together as a nation 8 years ago.

May the Lord wrap his loving arms around those lost on 9/11 and be with the ones that are left behind. Amen.