Hit It ME!
There we are. Do I need a voice? How do I find it. Every time I tell a story, I want to tell it from the beginning. The very, very beginning.
My Mother:
My mother tells stories from the beginning. But you can't follow them. They are here, they are somewhere else before you realize which here here is; they are there, they are you. You are the story now. Don't you remember that? Don't you remember this? What is so-and-so going to do when-and-when? Uncle Sam was the best. He went to Gettysburg. Until he broke his leg. Or maybe that was my grandmother.
I forgot because then she slammed the wheel:
"DAMMIT Mommy!"
"Now why'd you do that?"
Then my mom later realized Gwenny was just pulling her leg the whole time. See... She was a prankster. She was rebellious. My Grandmother and my Dad probably would have had a lot of fun together. I wonder if that's why my mom and my dad connected. It's an interesting point to ponder considering that my mom is so prim and proper you're not sure if it's with the " " or not. But I've seen other mothers I thought were "prim and proper" only to see the fun side on the other side.
Potatoes. Skillets. Cheese, onions, ketchup. Hot sauce. Gotta love the sauce.
Frank's bitch. Nahsayin?
But to reality, oh here comes gravity. Bingo.
Sitting with John. Hey Bud. What's up?
I got it. Here's the catch.
The movie is in the moment. It is now. It is me sitting with my dad now. The story of it goes where there are memories played. A lot of my dad's. A lot of mine. Some inferences of intersection. Large areas of growth. And answers. And trust. And most importantly Love.
And Love is with a capital letter because once it's built up, it can never be torn down. You can build it and build it and build it. As high as you want to, but until you realize when it's time to stop. And not because it's going to fall down, but to appreciate the view.
The view from Love is boundless and classic and universal. It may or may not have anything to do with afterlife. But afterlife is as unknown to me as prehistoric. In a sense we conjecture backwards to figure out what it all means. We believe we have to know because we're smart enough to figure out the past. But it's the future. And the future is always the hardest because it's the only thing you can change right now.
Now.
Now we're strolling thru Madison Square Park. It's the middle of June and it's just incredibly beautiful out. Now, just so you know, originally I wrote: "It's the middle of June and it's just fucking perfect.:
Dad in church. Dad says he's been a bad boy. I tell him he's not. We go to Chili's. He stands up and threatens to punch me.
Rich, you're a good guy. You know how to hold your hands.
My dining room folks. Eh, at least it USED to be my dining room til Jonie got her hands on it. Enter Spector. Spector was the type of guy who you hated and loved. But the texture lent itself to being felt, as any interesting texture is. And I had an acting class with Spector. Spector loved my little monologue here and I can't remember who wrote it. But it always stuck with me, the past 10 years. My dining room folks.
Uncertain:
Dad throwing a party at Susquehana, being the guy who he is and was then. It's 1959. Or 1960. Or 1961. Or the like. It's a different era. Jimi Hendrix got crazy with the National Anthem and I broke it freaky weaky style to a telemarketer, who I managed to keep on the phone for however many minutes.
By the way, have you ever seen me breakdance to Raspberry Beret when I was 7 at my sister's Sweet 16? Classic me. There's some other classic me stuff, dadda dadda dadda.
Johnny the Bullet could run. Boy could that Johnny run. Like a devil. GO JOHNNY GO! GO JOHNNY GO GO GO~~~
Dad in Manhattan. At the studio. In the club. The morning after and HE REMEMBERS. HOLY SHIT, HE REMEMBERS.
He's not going to remember til tomorrow and tell my mom, right? Right? He won't possibly remember.
"Hi Betsy. Huh?"
"Where did you guys take your dad last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"Whatever it is, he won't stop talking about it. But we can't understand where you'd been."
So I responded with a fantasy. At least if I had to remember the lie and have lived it, it may as well have been something I love to live.
An art gallery. Curt took us to an art gallery.
On Kawara- The Pkins. Love it or leave it you better gain way.
Dad racing his Corvette. Dad winning one of those races for the other guy's car.
Dad being in Time Magazine while on spring break.
Pop pop. Zack calls him Pop Pop.
I called my dad's dad pop pop.
All I really remember about Pop Pop are the few following things:
I was 3. Ish. Sitting on Pop Pop's front porch petting Suzi and playing with the "Mrs. T Haircut" she had. She had these longer hairs right down the middle of her head but only in the middle. You could stand them up and make her look like Mrs. T. Even though she more closely resembled a Gremlin. With the personality to boot.
And there was a mouse skeleton sitting on the wall in the basement.
Two levels, excluding the basement. Small. Dingy. How could like 12 people live in here as I've heard about his childhood. Where his 3 year senior aunt lived with him. And her family. But some people were in the war. And some people were dead.
I couldn't go to the funeral. He so weirded me out. And not to mention I was still angry that he peed on and chewed on my GI Joe figures. My dad thought they were dolls. He hated those WWF figures the most. He thought they were dolls. But now that I think about it I wonder if he thought they just looked gay in those tights.
My uncle's gay.
And honestly, it's awesome. I don't see him often, but every time I see him it's like you couldn't wait to see him again.
Great story about my uncle and sister-in-law. Dad's 70th birthday party. K-Dog is f'n smashed. C-Snap and I are chugging forties in the parking lot. And I'm not even sure why. I think we just wanted to roll forties more than something like they ran out of booze. And I know they didn't because K-Dog and Uncle P were chillin at the bar. My father-in-law was sitting there. He's got this amazing mustache. It's just so full and long. My uncle couldn't get enough of it. But anyway, Uncle P was checkin out K-Dog's fun bags as she's all but flashing the entire bar saying "I've got great tits. I've got great tits." He's like you sure do baby. K-Dog falls over. Not standing up. Not leaning on the counter. Not belly flopping with a Yanatwist off the diving board. Mom screams MY NAME! EZ-E yells out FUCK, those happened in reverse order, sorry bout that.
Dad and me walking the dog. The day after that night at the club.
The Letter. Read the letter to him.
The screen with him dancing on his anniversary. and saying I love you.
White light.
The Hoboken walk. That is my favorite moment with my dad ever, I think. That one was precious.