Notes On Our Americanization

India and I have been "taking our coffee" on the porch after supper. She has her little brown mug full of sweet and milky decaf and I have a big brown one full of not. We sit in our rockers and dip our cookies and make up games usually involving the passing cars. A couple nights ago, India, with her little legs crossed at the knee said to me in a very grown-up passing the time, serious sort of voice, "I can't believe Obama smokes." Which was all sorts of wonderful, but especially so with her little lips pursed and her face covered in chocolate.