Approximately 30 seconds after my English cousins arrived in the States, I was given a list of must-see items.  “I want a photograph standing near or next to all the things on this list,” my cousin Mark demanded.  Of course, I gladly obliged since he’d never been across the pond.

And then I saw “the list”.  It was random, arbitrary and made absolutely no sense to me.  In no particular order, I give you a portion of the itemized listing:

Photos with:

An American mailbox

An American school bus (must be yellow)

An American bum/hobo

An American gumball machine

An American police officer

An American high school (with basketball court or football field)

An American fire hydrant (must be red)

And that’s just a smattering of the items in the photo gallery mandate.  Apparently, things Mark’s seen in film or on TV have colored his version of the U.S.  He could not be bothered with landmarks, statues or history.  Like any 25-year old guy, he just wants to see the things he considers cool.  (And, yes, for the record certain British people consider “American rodeo clowns” to be cool.  I, personally, do not.)

We spent a good majority of the day yesterday searching for “Moon Pies”.  Yes, the chocolate covered marshmallow confection from the ‘60’s.  Mark had seen a prisoner eat one in the movie “The Green Mile” once … and had to have one.  Do you know how difficult it is to find an actual moon pie?  It’s like trying to score a Susan B. Anthony dollar.  Eventually, we discovered them at, of all places, the Bass Pro Shop.  Nestled along the racks of guns and decoy boars was a display featuring eight different flavors of individually wrapped “Moon Pies.”   I openly wept with joy as I saw Mark cross “Moon Pie” off his list.

Slowly, but surely we’ve been successfully getting pictures with said items.  Unfortunately, Mark has been adding to “the list” daily.  Yesterday, he asked what corn bread was.  I dreaded telling him because I knew the next thing out of his mouth would be, “I would like to try some, Mate.  Is that possible?  Cheers!”

Of course, I can’t say no to anyone who says, “Cheers.”  It’s just not in my genes.