Many years ago, my mother Betty acquired two cement ducks. I don't know where these ducks came from exactly, I just know that there were two. And with the ducks came an arsenal of clothing fit for a king. There were outfits for rainy days and St. Patrick's Day and gardening clothes and on and on. For the 4th of July the ducks had Uncle Sam and Betsy Ross outfits and for Thanksgiving they were a Pilgrim and an Indian.
My brother and I made fun of the ducks constantly. Every time Mom put on new outfits, we had a new comment to make. We thought the ducks were crazy and silly and weird and odd. We told Mom that people driving by would think a crazy Duck woman lived at our house. She never argued much, and kept dressing the ducks.
One day, I noticed that Mom had stopped dressing the ducks. They were out there in the front yard naked as you please. When I asked her about this she said, "You and Drew always made so mch fun of me for dressing them up. It hurt my feelings, so I stopped."
Oops.
I told my friend Nivah about this, and she scolded me to no end. You hurt your mother's feelings! She loved the ducks! How could you! Many months later, after the duck conversation was long forgotten, Nivah showed up at my house with a "gift" and walked into my house carrying The Duck. She had found a cement duck at a yard sale complete with about 15 different themed outfits. I was speechless. Nivah informed me that I was to put The Duck on my front porch and dress him up because I had hurt my mom's feelings.
And so, The Duck now mans the front door of Illingworth Manor, always dressed in his finest. Sometimes he wears dresses and sometimes we wears hats. There may also be a wig or two in his future.
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