I May Be A Character…But I’m Only A Part of The Cast, Honey.

I know some pretty interesting people. Been that way my whole life. My parents are pretty interesting, Dad’s an ex-Jehovah’s Witness turned Mormon and Mom once shot a part down the center of a dude’s hair. Believe what you will …but she pointed him out in the grocery store one day while we were visiting Halcyondale, the birthplace of our people. I saw the scar.

Grandma Ole (pronounced Oh-Lee) gave me a book when I was around five called “Where Did I Come From”. It made me popular with the kids in the neighborhood for a few weeks. Then my mom took it from me.

It had naked people having sex in it…but even in my young mind, the pictures weren’t sexy.

My grandmother also told me and my best friend , ” I know what marijuana smells like.” I almost blacked out with laughter. We thought we’d covered the smell with cigarette smoke.

My aunt, Dad’s sister, once told me that their other sister had been in an abusive relationship and came home one day all beat up. My Dad, the priest, his brothers and sisters gathered: guns, farm tools and split pieces of timber to go kill this guy…but my aunt, the one with the bruises, begged for his life. I’m glad she did or I probably wouldn’t be here.

Speaking of domestic violence, my sister put her ex-husband’s head through a wall…but she’s a really sweet lady. I didn’t like him. He looked like the Drak from Enemy Mine…with the personality of a pile of …crap.

My siblings and I are descendants of a people who enjoy a good laugh, make a mean spread and don’t take no mess. I love us.

So today is the day I give thanks for my family. All of us. From the Rooter to the Tooter.

To my children, I say…I got it honest. Don’t worry! Sometimes it skips a generation…but I’m glad it didn’t.