Wednesday, July 13, 2005

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!


Blogger Taketoshi said...

wow, that's just crazy. it's amazing how you can love someone so much and then somehow not really take them seriously as a whole person at the same time.

7/13/2005 09:46:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said... could have the Butcher use them as part of his art and then sell them for high art prices and generate your inheretance.

Or, if sentiment prevails, place them on the coffee table your dad wants to be eternally encased in.


7/13/2005 12:42:00 PM  
Blogger Masked Mom said...

About the writing it down thing--just finished the book "The Breakdown Lane" by Jacquelyn Mitchard where I picked up this quote " interesting thing my mother used to say about shit that really hurts you is that writing it down drives a stake through its heart."

Keep driving those stakes...

7/13/2005 04:35:00 PM  

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