Sometimes I feel like I should live on a farm, on the California coast, inside New York City, between San Francisco and Seattle, down the street from Mexico and Canada, overlooking the Amalfi Coast. Maybe in an alternate universe this exists.... and on the weekend I hang out with God and he answers my questions. We smoke from a bong and make jokes. Then, I can visit my family through time.
I party with my mom in NYC in her twenties, we go to the beach and we have no where to stay so we sleep on the beach during the day and party all night, and as my mom once said, "get a date and you know you're eating a good meal". Work in the auto shop in the Bronx with my dad and play music with him. Go out dancing with my dad's parents when they first met. Freshly back from war and looking for love and music in NYC. Then, sit in the kitchen with my grandma as her and the ladies drank, played poker, and filled the room with a thick smoke in the Bronx house. However, Grandpa Jack...oh what a man. Scotch drinking, fun loving, and ruling New York City. A big NY exec, swimming in money, and the life of the party. Funniest man in the room. And Nana, Ms. Ann, sweetest and hardest working woman. In high school, she decided to work 2-3 jobs so that she could go to a private girls school because at the public high school the boys smacked her ass in the hall and treated her like meat. Grandpa Jack spent forever just following her around work and parties trying to get a date. And when she finally accepted she fell in love instantly. She told me once, "All I wanted to do was kiss him every second and hold him. But, at that time it was unacceptable. So, we snuck into phone booths and cabs. Basically anywhere we could be alone."
My family is so strong. They all owned the room. Smart. Strong. Usually with a strong drink in hand. I hope I really grow into my heritage.
p.s. grammar is horrible. but I wasn't really paying attention to it.
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