i’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints


it was good having my sister here for lots of reasons, like going on graffiti-laden walks and giggling about shit, but it was also nice to be able to talk about my family with someone who really gets it. because everyone’s family is fucked-up in its own unique way and it’s hard to understand. we were talking about my stepdad over coffee & sandwiches on my lunch break from work. she said, “i wrote a story about him for my creative non-fiction class, but i didn’t put in the part where he lost the car, because i was like, nobody will believe that! and when you write stuff down, it has to be believable…”

one day, after a long night of drug use, my stepdad came home without my mom’s car. i’m a little fuzzy on the details, as i was in college & lived an hour away & tried to avoid my familial drama as much as possible back then. nobody knows how he got home, and he’s dead now, so i can’t ask him how he got home from where the (perfectly functional) car was abandoned on the belt parkway in brooklyn, all the way back to my mom’s house on long island. i can’t ask him why he did it in the first place.

that sounds ludicrous, right? who does that? who loses a car? who drives a car onto the grassy median of a parkway and then travels thirty miles back home without it? maybe you, sitting there reading my blog, don’t believe me. it’s so ludicrous.

but it really happened. my mom really did call my dad, who hates her (and vice versa), and pleaded with him, as the mother of his children, to drive her to look for her car. and he did, and they found it, untowed, un-stolen, unmolested, just hanging out on the median as though nothing were wrong at all.

i don’t know; it’s just nice to be able to share these little weird pieces of me with someone who doesn’t look at me skeptically when i tell them. lately i have started missing my stepdad, whose demise i have yet to shed a tear about, mainly because i’ve been hanging out with ex-cons who remind me of him, remind me that he wasn’t all bad. that he was funny and interesting, even if he was a homophobic drug-addicted manipulative liar. a lot of the cons are ex-drug-addicts, and probably manipulative too, and maybe are still liars. who knows. but we have good conversations about how america is going to hell, we sing along with the radio, they tell me crazy stories about their lives and laugh at me when i spill water all over the table. and it made me realize how long it’s been since i’ve had that particular brand of crazy in my life, and made me realize that, i don’t know, i kinda missed it.

One response »

  1. Ocean, I totally believe you, my dad was a drunk and he came home with a VW Beetle (the original ones) that he bought off a fellow drunk for two bucks.

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