Day 2: Your parents.
Dad: Republican. Self-taught trumpet player. Had his first hangover at the age of three. Born Roman Catholic, but converted to Judaism when he married my mother. Remodels kitchens and bathrooms for a living. Volunteered for the army at 19 and did two tours in Vietnam. Raised by his grandparents for the first five years of his life. Born in Rochester, grew up all over. Met Muhammad Ali while helping at the Special Olympics. Worked for Kodak. Worked construction. Smoked a lot of weed. Lived in Italy for a year. Accidentally set my Aunt Val’s oven on fire three Thanksgivings ago. Earned degrees in art, music, and dance from Brockport, and was essentially the head of their music department for two years. Incredibly fond of word games and crossword puzzles. Watches Fox News far too often. Once owned a red Volkswagen that had no floor or workable brakes. Mad scientist in the kitchen. He’ll be 62 in December.
Mom: Democrat. Born and raised in Buffalo. Jewish. Cancer survivor. Married her first husband exactly one week before her 21st birthday. Dental hygienist. Middle child. Left-handed. Nearly blind without her glasses. Can’t figure out how to work a computer. Traveled through Europe. Daughter of a lounge singer and a painter-slash-accountant. Likes mysteries more than other kinds of fiction. The very definition of “straight arrow.” Abnormally fond of country music. Will eat just about any kind of chocolate when the mood strikes, even the tasteless, bittersweet blocks of baking chocolate. Unafraid of flying. Killer of spiders. Tends to ramble. Possesses a very strange sense of humor. Was a member of the very first graduating senior class at my former high school. She turned 59 in June.
My parents met on a blind date. Nine months later, I was born.
You know, I thought that with school letting out, I would actually have time to do things outside of sleep and work, but in the past week I have:
( Life nonsense lies below -- you've been warned! )
So, to recap: I am alive, I am still writing, and I am back for all the fun things I’ve missed in the past two months. I promise. :-)
Dad: "Do you see this? The terrible, inhumane conditions at the Andersonville Prison are proof of how bad the North was in the Civil War. The Union didn't even treat the Southerners like people! They abused and starved them all in the prison, and those poor Confederate prisoners had to resort to cannibalism to stay alive. Do you see how bad the North was now?"
Me: "Dad, Andersonville was a Confederate prison. It's in Georgia."