I Sat in the Band Room, Squeaking on My Reed

In my family, you don't have to come in the front door. You don't need to knock or be formal with a greeting, what's your family you just come in. As i walked through, my parents and aunts and uncles were in the kitchen frying off the last batch of lotka's. There was always a slight difference of opinion about the cooking. And as i swiped a piece of rugeloch from the plate and ducked out, i heard the usual argument about the jelly doughnuts, store bought versus home made going on behind me. That's the thing about families. Family love is of a different sort, deep and abiding, unmoved by the