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On a breezy, almost drizzly Friday in June, my dad suggested that Carol and I meet up with him in a nearby town for a bratwurst lunch on Customer Appreciation Day at a bank at which he seems to be appreciated. We accepted the invitation.
It was an outdoor event, in the bank’s parking lot. We assembled our brats, chips, drinks, and cookies and found seats at a sparsely populated picnic table under a shelter of heavy canvas. Carol sat across from me and Dad, and we began to eat.
Carol often remarks that she appears with Dad in far more family photos than I do, so, a little way into the meal, I said, “Hey, how about you take a picture of Dad and me?” I slid my phone across the table to my wife and gave some general instructions about the genre I call “Tourist Picture.” I reminded her that my phone camera’s shutter is set for a two-second delay. As Dad and I put on our Smile-At-the-Camera faces, and as Carol was carefully composing her shot, Dad’s former pastor, a Lutheran with a loaded plate, happened to pass behind Dad and me and said, as he went by, “There’s a good pair to draw to!”
We three chuckled, supposing that the comment, unfamiliar to any of us three, must be well-intentioned, and surely not a cheerful observation about evident assets of the photographer.
When the pastor finished his meal and stopped by to exchange pleasantries, Dad and Carol and I refrained from confessing to him our ignorance of what might have been a quote from Proverbs.
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