Over fall break we trekked to Birmingham for a few days to spend some time with my brother and sister-in-law. The Spouse and I both lived there during graduate school, so we love going back and seeing how much the city has changed between visits. The highlights of the trip were a gourmet popsicle shop, a neighborhood park, and a hands-on science center/museum.
As we were driving through downtown Birmingham one evening, the 2nd Grader asked:
The 2nd Grader: What’s a monogram?
Me: It’s when you use your initials instead of your whole name on something. It’s usually three letters. Like yours would be BDS.
The 2nd Grader: Well, that sign back there said, “Monograms save lives.”
Knowing that we had just passed a major hospital, I’m pretty sure she was referring to a billboard of this sort:
Me: I think the word was probably “mammogram.”
Overhearing the conversation, the Kindergarter then chimes in…
The Kindergartener: How does a monogram save your life?
Me: It can’t. Mammograms save lives.
The Kindergartener: What’s a mammogram?
This is one of those times when I sort of miss the good ole days when no one in our family could read except the Spouse and me. Those were simpler times.
I think many Southerners would insist that monograms can enhance lives, but I’m not aware of any instances where they have saved them. October, though, is the best month of the year to remember that mammograms really do.
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