The Worst Thing My Dad Ever Said to Me

Often, I find that when I write something down, it ceases to be painful and starts to be funny. This morning, as I was thinking about how to formulate this, I actually started laughing. Partially, this has to do with me remembering how I was knocking back three Tom Collinses in a very short amount of time and starting to tell Jon about my "inheritance," but mostly, it just had to do with the ridiculous ways my family fucks each other up. So, the worst thing my dad ever said to me was "B., you know that you're the oldest, but Recalcitrant Brother is the oldest son and that is the most important position in the family. It even goes back to the Bible." . . . Let's go on to the "inheritance." None of my dad's brothers have lived to be sixty. When it became apparent that he was going to make it, he and my mom decided to update their will. I'm sure my uncle B. appreciates this, as the previous will specified that we would have to go live with him in the event of our parents' deaths, and who wants a bunch of grown-ass children coming to live with him? So, they updated their will. The recalcitrant brother pulled me aside shortly after this and said, "You know, they left everything to you." I think he was really pissed off. But, America, my parents have NOTHING. No, they have worse than nothing. They have approximately 150 Precious Moments statues. And that's it. They've been poor preachers their whole lives. What little money they had set aside has gone to continually bailing my brothers out of jail or me out of financial crises. They don't even own a house. All they have are these creepy little statues with their big eyes and applicable Bible verses. I was telling Jon, I can't decide if I'm going to eBay those scary little fuckers or throw them all off the top of the Terrace Place parking garage. . . . Anyway, I don't really know the specifics of the vast amounts of nothing I've been left, because, although it seems my parents went through the will with the recalcitrant brother, they did not go through it with me. They handed me a manila envelope, I slid it into the outside pocket of my suitcase, and there it sits, unopened, all this time later. . . . I can't think of anything pithy to wrap this post up with. Still, it's funny and sad how we're so ordinary and yet think we're so important. It reminds me of when my cousin J. came to visit and he said, "Our family is like the Bible. All these epic things happen to us." And I couldn't decide if he realized how ridiculous that was, but I couldn't refute him, because Sweet Jesus, it's obvious everyone in my family believes that!