Part 4 ~ Texas Still

I lived with my mom, dad and new baby brother in Texas until I was almost 5. My brother was 4 years younger than me so I was pretty much alone. There weren’t any neighbor kids so I had to amuse myself. I had a record player and I played the song candy girl over and over because I really thought it was my song. We used to have this crazy neighbor, Dennis, who was friends with my dad and the only was I can describe this man is remember Schneider from One Day at a Time? I don’t know why that’s who I see when I think of him, but I do. I remember this so clearly he came over one day, and he was a truck driver so he would be gone for a little while at a time, he said to my mom “Someone took a shit in my toilet while I was gone!” Dennis lived alone over there so there was no one to blame. He said he came home and that there was a little present left behind for him. I always thought they funniest part of the story was he wasn’t bothered that someone came in and used his toilet, he was just mad that they didn’t flush.
The last thing I remember before moving out of Houston was that a hurricane coming. We didn’t evacuate so I remember my dad boarding up the windows. I don’t remember anything about the actual storm but what I do know is that my brother Mike and I were put in a closet so protect us and we sat happily in there and played Strawberry Shortcake for what could have been days.
My dad decided we should all move to Ohio where he grew up. So we packed up our station wagon and headed north. The last thing I remember about leaving Texas was shouting at the top of my lungs, “Oh my God! It’s Michael Jackson!!” When I saw a skinny black guy walking down the road. I don’t know if he had on some crazy red jacket or one magic glove, but I truly believed I had seen the Wacko Jacko himself.

Part 3 ~ Meet your Dad

My first memory of him is sitting in our living room on the couch with him and we were getting ready to watch something on tv. He had on a blue Jaws shirt and he had a crazy beard. My mom was in the kitchen making popcorn and my dad yells to her, “Hey melissa bring me a coke”.
Then I yelled, “Hey Melissa, bring me one too”. Even though he wasn’t biologically related to me I don’t ever remember calling him anything but dad and the woman who gave birth to me, I was calling by her first name.
I believe family is who you make it.

Part 2 ~ The Grandmother

So there I was living with my grandmother, her boyfriend, and my aunt Pam. I remember bits and pieces of this life. I remember the boyfriends name was William. He bought me candy every night when he got home from work. I can never see his face when I think of him, only outstretched arms as if he was about to pick me up, and a yellow tshirt. We all lived in a house in Houston somewhere. I know I had a little black dog that I called Mutt and I had a couple of birds too. I remember having a birthday cake once with a circus theme. I know that I got into my aunt pams room all the time and I was a little pain in her ass. I knew that my grandmother didn’t care for me really, it always seemed like I was a tool. When she needed me to impress someone or to fit into someone else’s idea of who she should be, I was there. I know that she tried to get me to call her and william mom and dad.
When she broke things off with William, I found myself with a new home.

Part 1 ~ The Birth

We all have a story, our whole lives are a story. Some are just a little more entertaining than others. So here is mine, not all of it just the highlights of how I got my start here.

I was born in Houston, Texas November 18, 1978.
My mom gave birth to me one month after she turned 15. When I was born my heart stopped a few times and had to be kicked back on. I should have known then, my soul was already trying to jump ship. After we were released from the hospital Im not sure where we went. I think it was to my moms aunt and uncles house. My maternal great aunt. They were typical hillbillies. They lived in a trailer on a piece of land north of Houston. They drank beer, smoked pot, fought like cats and dogs, and raised chickens. You know, he had a huge beard, cut off jean shorts and big man flip flops. It was actually normal to them. This was their life. When I was a few months old my mom took me to my grandmothers house to spend the night. When she returned for me the next day my grandma had a shotgun ready and told her that she wasn’t taking me back to that place.
So there I was a few months old with no mom or dad just some crazy old bat who stole me at gunpoint.

Part 6 ~ The After Party

We arrived to the party center ready to eat some lunch and get out as quick as possible. We found a table and waited for all the fun. People started to arrive and so we went and made plates for everyone and ate. Pretty soon I started to see people walking around with beer. Cousins who I remember babysitting were walking around drinking beer from cans. I know that this is normal in my family but it just seemed odd. My mom kept looking around to see who was ready to party. I mean she had started her party hours earlier with her backseat beer but she was still ready for more. I was just waiting to see when the first person walked out the door so I could follow suit on that. The kids were playing like kids of today. They were all seated in a row playing their DS systems occasionally looking over to see how the others were doing with their games. The aunts and uncles really laughing and drinking beer. I was on my fourth ginger ale when my dad’s friend Doug cornered me. He started telling me he just got into town a couple days ago and he heard the news and knew that he needed to be there for my dad. Then he went on to tell me how he used to be my dad’s right hand man at work and that if my dad ever needed a job that Doug would put him in charge of running his company anytime. I kept looking for a way out. I am pretty sure that guy was deeply in gay love with my dad. Thank god J dumped her orange Faygo all over. I had to go clean up releasing me from love fest ’08. Later on Doug sat down next to my mom and I felt bad for the guy because my mom paid no attention. She was too busy watching to see when it would be cool for her to go grab another beer. As soon as she saw her chance Doug was left in the cold. My dad sat down to eat and I noticed he took off the tie. I asked where it was and he told me he couldn’t breathe wearing it. I said “wasn’t it a clip on?”
He said “so what?”

The End.

Part 5 ~ The Catholic Mass

With the viewing over I got back into the car with my parents to go to the church for mass. While on the way I hear my mom from the back seat get all excited and yell, “hey I found a beer rolling around back here!”. She then asked my dad if he wanted to split it. He graciously declined and she said, “well Im drinking it myself then”. So she sat in the back seat and drank her warm stinky beer and my dad and I talked about the family.
We arrived at the church and stood in a big clump waiting to get in. My dad came over laughing and told me that uncle Charlie has just told him about his morning. Apparently uncle Charlie was in the bathroom that morning and started to call for his wife urgently. She ran into the bathroom to see what was wrong and he said to her, “Ang, will you wipe me?” She called him a sicko and my dad found this to be hilarious. I didn’t want my mom to talk to anyone because I didn’t want them to smell her stank old beer, cigarette, and pot breath. She didn’t seem to care however. She was a mile a minute with all the chats. Finally the line started to move and we were ushering into the church, I told my mom not to stand so close to me because when the lightening hits her I didn’t want to be a casualty. My aunt Sally overheard this and really laughed loud.
We were seated in the 3rd row and watched as they rolled the casket into the aisle. I hate Catholic mass man. All the stand up, sit down, get on your knees, raise the roof, do the wave bullshit has got to go. I never know what the hell the priest or whatever he is called is talking about. I don’t get the drinking of the wine, and the eating of the wafer ritual. I don’t get anything about to be honest. So while everyone is all into and listening, Im watching. I’m watching the kid in front of me try to sit when he is supposed to be standing and his dad pinching him to get up. Im watching one of the other priests actually decay right in front of my eyes. Im watching people cry. Im watching the casket and thinking about my grandma inside.
There was a singer there who kept breaking into songs at weird intervals. It really felt like I was watching a live commercial for the Catholic church. It was really making me laugh inappropriately. Every five minutes my dad would say to me, “man isn’t this guy an awesome singer?” He kept telling me the singer was requested because he was my grandma’s favorite.
All during the service my mom kept saying, “I have to pee come with me!” I kept telling her no, it wasn’t my fault she chugged beer on the way here.
You know what else is annoying about the Catholic service? The part where you have to shake hands with everyone and say, peace be with you. I never know how many shakes is enough. When can I stop with the shaking game? I just look around awkwardly and hope I am done with the peace givings.
When the service was over we were all standing outside the church. I was waiting for Bill and the kids to come pick me up and save me from one more second with my parents, and everyone else was chatting and making plans for what was going to happen next. My dad was talking to his best friend Jim and my mom interrupted to inform them that she needed to get going because she wanted to stop and get beer on the way to the burial. Everyone looked at her with disbelief, but not me. I believed it.
Bill arrived me and saved me from this day just in time. I drove to the cemetery with Bill and the ladies and told him of my adventures so far. We got to the cemetery and by the time we walked all the way up to the burial site, it was just about over.
We walked the long frigid walk back to the car. I was relieved this day was almost over. The only thing that was left was the after funeral gathering and eating of the food.

Part 4 ~ The Viewing

I walked into the funeral home with my parents on either side of me. My mom with her giant gas station coffee cup and my dad with no tie. We are greeted by my uncle Bill who finally hands my dad a tie, and I’m not sure but I think I remember it being a clip on. We were just about the last to arrive so the family is all in the room already. It’s such a strange thing to me. Standing in a room with your dead loved one. I don’t want to remember people in death. I think it etches itself into every other memory of them. It’s not healing for me, it’s scarring.
The room is filled with my family who hasn’t all been in the same room for 15 years. We used to be one family but now we were split into nine. They were like strangers. Ghosts of people I used to know all there to say goodbye to the one person who linked us. Everyone is in the room, and I was standing against the wall not talking to anyone, I mean what do I really have to say? I hugged random aunts and uncles as they passed, made some small talk with some cousins, but that was it. My mom went around the room with an injured look on her face hugging people and saying she was sorry. She isn’t really thinking of their pain, just her own.
She then dumped her giant jug-o-coffee all over my aunt jenny and the floor in a move she claimed accidental. She made a big scene of course.
While I’m standing watching the mess, my uncle Charlie comes over to me and says,”you’re not going to believe this, but your aunt Peggy didn’t like the lipstick color they had on my mom so she wiped it off her and borrowed your aunt sally’s lipstick and put it on her.”
I just looked at him and asked if he was kidding. He wasn’t. Then he said, “do you think she will still use that lipstick now?”
Then it was time to do the weird let’s line up and do a casket walk by. I hate these but I didn’t want to be the asshole and not go up. My mom grabbed onto me and wanted me to walk with her. I hate when she grabs onto me. I don’t want to snuggle. I don’t want to smell like pot, tobacco, and primo. So I did the obligatory walk by. I didn’t touch her or talk to her, I just walked by quickly and exited the room. In the hallway I found myself once again standing with my uncle Charlie. He was digging through this bowl of hard candies. He looked up at me and asked if I thought they had any orange candy because that was the kind he really wanted. I said, man this is a funeral home not Fuzzywigs magic candy shop. Come on.

Part 3 ~ Events Leading to the Viewing

We have to be at the funeral home by 10am which means we need to leave my house by 9am. My mom and dad wake up at 730 and start rambling through the house getting ready. I wake up to them drinking coffee out of regular drinking glasses because they just couldn’t seem to find the mugs.
My dad is dressed and I had to pee but I couldn’t because my mother was in the bathroom getting ready and putting the final touches of her outfit together by spraying her infamous signature scent Primo. Yeah, thats right Primo. It’s the Georgio knock off you get at the CVS or Rite Aid in the yellow can. I hate that smell.
Speaking of the outfits, let me run them down for you here. Dad- the softest black jeans he ever had which he had been making me feel the night before, a white shirt, and no tie. He said my uncle Bill was bringing him one that he could slap on at the funeral home.
My moms outfit was a little more fancy. She too had on black jeans, but she was really mad because she thought she grabbed her good black jeans but it turned out she grabbed the black jeans that were way too big and she didn’t like those black jeans. She was also wearing a red and black sweater that was made of that really fat yarn and I’m pretty sure it was from the 80’s and way too long. On top of that she was wearing what look liked to be a mans old coat. Way too long in the sleeves if you know what I mean. These two were ready for a funeral.
My dad and I went to the car to warm it up and go while my mom was doing god knows what inside. My dad gets impatient and starts honking and finally my mom appeared on the steps yelling at him to shut the hell up and he should have gotten her up earlier. He says under his breath “well maybe if she didn’t fall back asleep after I woke her up”. She gets in the car all pouty and says she was looking for her lipstick, and judging by her neon pink lips, she found it.
We had to stop for gas so I went in with my mom to get something to drink, a juice for me and coffee and cigarettes for her.
On the road again and I’m hearing arguing and my dad saying, man if Bill didn’t bring me a tie I’m going to kill him.
Then the real fun begins. My dad says to me, “we’re going to burn one, you don’t mind do you?” Of course not! I’m on the way to my grandmothers funeral, why didn’t I think to bring the pot? I shouldn’t have been surprised though it was like that during every car ride to any function we were ever going to. So I am in the passenger seat trying to keep my head out the window as much as possible so when I show up to the funeral I don’t smell like Cheech.
Finally we get to the funeral home and my dad does a donut in the parking lot. This is no joke. The director is outside parking people and my dad does a donut. Then he rolls down the window and says to the guy, “I’m not used to this Ohio snow anymore, I live in Florida.” I step out of the car and so regret my decision to ride with them. I arrive to the funeral that my grandma didn’t even want. She didn’t want a viewing, she didn’t want a service but that’s exactly what she was getting. The family decided in honor of her requests they would allow only her children and grandchildren into the viewing. How thoughtful.
As I walked in I wondered who else inside this funeral home is high right now? I was about to find out.

Part 2 ~ The Arrival

My parents arrive at my house around 7 in the evening after spending 20 hours in a rented Chevy Cobalt with each other which is bad enough but also my dads older sister Diane, who says charming things like “on the way back home from this I’m going to be walking bow legged”. Apparently she was talking about “getting some” from her occasional, when I’m in town, crackhead boyfriend.
They came bearing pizza from Pizza Pan, you know the place where you get 47 pizzas for the price of half a pizza? My dad was so happy about his value and told us at least 7 times about how that was the best pizza sauce he ever had. I heard Bill say, how many pizzas have you had?
My mom immediately says, “can I smoke in here?”
So we eat our pizza and watch some Americas Funniest Home Videos. I mean it makes me laugh everytime. Bill ever so subtly slinks upstairs to hide.
Then they started showing me what they brought for my brother, who was getting out of prison soon and would need clothes. Keep in mind that my brother is the kid that has a million scary tattoos and wears big pants and wife beaters. So my mom pulls out a sweet Chicago Bulls jacket with leather sleeves, two Dale Earnhart Jr. shirts, and a pair of pleated khaki pants. After that my dad showed me his sweet new black jeans that he kept making me feel to see how soft they were.
I started to show them pictures of the kids and trips I have taken. I never see them so they have no idea what I am doing with my life. Eventually it leads to photobooth. This may be the hardest I have ever seen my dad laugh.

Part 1 ~ The Phone Call

Early March 2008

I get a call on the way to work from my Mom telling me that my paternal grandmother had passed away suddenly. My mother seems to thrive in these conditions. She loves to tell people bad news. It’s like she can’t wait for the next shitty thing to happen so she can call everyone and be the first one to tell them the news. I don’t know if she likes people to be as miserable as she is, or if it’s because she loves to be the center of attention.
She spares me the details except to tell me how shitty her life is and she can’t believe this is happening to HER now too.
Later my dad calls me and is very choked up. He had lost his dad 8 months before and now his mom was gone. He lives in FL and we are in Ohio so he wasn’t there for her at the end and he is feeling guilty. Even so he does not spare any details.
“My mom was coughing up a pint of blood before she died”. Thanks Dad. That’s what I wanted to hear. He tells me the funeral is in 5 days which means he is coming up to Ohio. He says he and my mom will be staying with me. My mom who doesn’t care how many times you tell her not to smoke in the house she will do it anyway and my dad who can’t sit still for longer than 5 seconds and is always driving into something. One other fun fact about this couple here, they can’t stand each other. They actually got divorced when I was 12 but about 4 years ago my mom somehow ended back up with my dad. Not even as a couple I don’t think, more of a I’m just going to move in here, not work and hate you anyway situation.
Within a day of this conversation they are on their way to my house at a deliberate 65 mph.