When I first read this I sat and stared at my computer screen and said a long, drawn-out, "Wow!" This is my baby brother. This is the history we shared. This knocked my socks off:
Where I'm From
I am from unorganized sports games that lasted all day, from Coke in glass bottles and Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots.
I am from a big white house on the corner with a haunted attic, from a towering walnut tree and an oft-neglected yard.
I am from Nightshade and cherry trees.
I am from Easter Bunny visits until I was eighteen and tall, loud people, from “Victor!” and Harold and “Cousin Ginger”.
I am from mild insanity and stubbornness.
I am from a parsnip truck and a “Good Time Charlie”.
I am from a complete lack of religiousness. It was not discussed, encouraged, or discouraged. It was a non-issue. My first memory of anything to do with religion was when I watched “Ben Hur” on TV with my mom when I was in my early teens.
I am from a tiny, drab, wet town on the Harbor. One of the landing spots of my somewhat nomadic parents before they finally settled in Vancouver. I am from “Chef Boyardee” spaghetti with hot dogs cut up in it (Yuck!) and Cheerios. I am the baby, the accident, who was so much younger than the rest of the kids that I have very vague memories of them.
I am from an alcoholic uncle who drank himself to death, and from his namesake who followed in his footsteps and died from choking on his own vomit in a jail cell.
I am from two or three boxes of black and white pictures, from a small pouch of antique coins, from my father’s medals from “the War”, from old postcards of England and New England. Mementos of an extended family that I never knew.
I am from old Fords and Ramblers that stunk heavily of stale cigarette smoke.
I am from a tense atmosphere where even though you knew you were loved it was never really shown.
I am from freedom. Freedom to roam from sun-up until sun-down, and often longer than that. Freedom that comes from often too-trusting parents who understood that life’s experiences were best encountered without constant adult supervision.
I am from “Stay tuned to ABC for Batman: In living color!”
I am from a refrigerator packed so full of food it could feed half of starving Africa, from a mother who was convinced that everything in that refrigerator had spoiled. “Victor, smell this!”
I am from psychedelia, from drugs, from bell bottoms and platform shoes. I am from perms for both men and women.
I am from the game of the week (usually the Yankees).
I am from The Jackson Five, The Osmonds, Jody Foster. It feels like we all grew up together.
I am from Goofy learning to drive, from Bugs Bunny and all sorts of politically incorrect cartoons.
