“The details of my life are quite inconsequential… very well, where do I begin?
My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.
My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really.
At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum… it’s breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.” – Dr. Evil: “Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery”
Actually, my story begins in 1977, on a cold and gray Chicago morning…a po’ little baby child was born…in the ghetto (in the ghetto). Okay, technically (if we must get technical), I was born at Great Lakes Naval Hospital in Waukegan (right outside Chicago I’ve been told).
Dad was in the army, Mom was following her husband/gentleman lover around the countryside with my older sister in tow. She was hatched in Oahu, Hawai’i.
Soon after I was brought into this outstanding world, my parents moved back to their homeland of Nebraska, to raise their two chitlins near both their families.
15 months after I was born, we would add another boy to the clan. Couple years later, a little sister joined us in action. When we were gettin’ reared right, I was called my brothers name and vice versa by almost 75% of the population of our little town (take 381 people times 75 percent…carry the two…well, that’s roughly 297 people) because we looked like twins and people back then were too lazy to ask your name before they opened their yappers.
We grew up in that small village, doing what all small town kids do–using our creativity and troublemaking skills to avoid death from boredom. We were a pretty close-knit bunch of kids. We didn’t grow up with a playroom full of expensive toys and have all the best clothes, but dammit we were good peeps and we all turned out to be pretty damned good peeps–especially ME!
I graduated in 1995 with 25 other Nebraska-raised kiddos (the most diversity we were attune to was the mix of cowboys and not-cowboys in our class; I was a not-cowboy but enjoyed the company of both social classes–which probably was considered liberal even back then).
Not sure what career path I really wanted to go in to right out of high school, my main focus was on making friends and having a good time. Priorities were not my strong suit. So, after attending community college for two years and an area university for a semester, I hoofed it back home to work at the small town newspaper. Loved it.
2002. Met Amy. We had gone to college together and didn’t really ‘hit it off’ so to speak. We had a speech class together and didn’t get to know each other very well because…well, because I didn’t ever show up for class. She got a B in class, I got an A. Goes to show what a little ass-kissing can do for ya, huh?
Anyhootles, we met again at a dive bar back home, hit it off grandly, and I ended up moving about three hours away at the end of that year to make sure she didn’t change her mind about marrying me.
We were happily hitched in the July 2003. She is a speech pathologist (landed a smart one, huh?) with and I am a loan officer with delusions of grandeur (not really; I’m quite modest and mellow).
A son was added to our home in June 2006. After about six months of trying to get prego, we found out Amy was expecting in October 2005.
My role as a father was defined by three nieces pretty much–not that my FOUR (thanks for the edit, Missy!) nephews haven’t contributed learning experiences also. Boy they have.
The oldest, now 15, was born when I was in high school and she and her mother lived with us, so I learned a lot about babies and kids from tending to her. Another niece died in her sleep at two months old. Amy was three months pregnant with Jack at that point. From that, I learned that our time on Earth is limited and you’d better take advantage of the precious time you have with your kids. From my bro’s daughter, I learned that kids aren’t breakable. She’s a daredevil and a free spirit and proof that you can’t harness a kid, but a little TLC goes a darn long way!
So, as the dad of a one-year-old, I’m proud of the fact that I view parenthood as a partnership with my wife. I wouldn’t give up the time I spend with my son for a minute working, cleaning and fussing over crap that doesn’t matter–especially mowing!
And that’s my life thus far. Husband and dad, brother, son, uncle, grandson, nephew and friend of many–and I hope that includes you.
Hope you enjoy my ramblings. Leave me a comment to let me know you were here.