The Y. M. C. L.

Our youngest son was quiet for the longest time. Some people thought, because he had a lot of ear infections, that something was wrong with his hearing, because he didn't talk. I always said it was because everyone always talked for him.

When he did start to talk, he wouldn't shut up. Talked nonstop. And stuttered. And bellowed. Scared the bejeebies out of me more than once, when we were driving down the road. I would think he was asleep, and he'd suddenly shout "CHOO CHOO MOMMY! CHOO CHOO!" I think even his uncle could hear that child talk.

His uncle is deaf.

Add to all of this that my child would forget the Mr. and Mrs. on names of adults, and it could get interesting. Like our friends whose last name was Hogg. We'd be standing in the hallway at church, and he'd suddenly shout "Hi H-H-H-H-HOGG!" I just about died of embarrasment more than once, but Mrs. Hogg thought it was cute. Or so she said.

He had a language of his own, too. Lala was applesauce. Loddies were horses. And we never did figure out what "larsh" meant, but he said it with such a pleading look in his eyes that it broke my heart. I think it was some kind of food, but we'll never know for sure.

We eat out sometimes at the MCL Cafeteria by us. He liked it because he could get strawberries -- his favorite -- at any time of year. The problem was, he would also go to the gym with his dad, and hang out at the playground while dad ran the treadmill. So, when ds would announce that he wanted to go to "YMCL," we were never sure -- did he want to eat, or play in the sandbox? Who knows.

And so, in honor of the YMCL, here's a video that will show you the proper way to do the classic YMCA dance, taught by none other than the Village People themselves. And should you want to dress the part, here's a cool gab vintage western shirt, from Sazz Vintage, online or in Philly.