The way it's spelled.
When home, father was father and mother was mother. When with friends they were mom and dad. My mother was reared in a good family from Virginia. My father married up.
I once used a vulgarity when speaking with my mother. Once. When I came to, dad was using all 4'11" of his body to pummel me while screaming that nobody insulted his wife, not even a *%&$#@g little *&%!%@ like me.
Recap, mother was mother and my dad grew up a "shrimp" on the streets of Akron. The bad side of the bad side of Akron.
Mother had wisdom and dad had street smarts. Both were very wise indeed.
A lot of living, when mixed with good reasoning, can produce extraordinary people.
My father grew up in a world of expected failure with his "gang" of Hunkies, Micks, Kikes and Darkies. He kept his "gang" together as best he could until his early death. He had navigated life by being the only one in his neighborhood to finish high school, completing college and Medical School. I remember visiting re-hab for the Hunkie and attending the opening of the Kikes own store with dad. I also remember watching my father weep uncontrollably at the funeral of the Mick and witnessing the defiance of physics as my father beat a man twice his size half to death for calling Darkie a nigger.
Darkness can create light in a person's life.
With my mother, father didn't swear, smoked his cigars elsewhere, danced with her like Fred Astaire, attended church, and worked himself to death for her and her children. Us. His sunshine. Though the street beast was always on watch and ready for action.
Sometimes people from good families go bad and sometimes good people rise above their Hell.
Loosing Your Balls Will Change Your Voice
July 11th, 2007
I will probably never get any awards for blogging or for beautiful
literature. First reason would be that I have done much
more talking than spelling in my life. I know a lot of very impressive
words. But it really takes away from the fun when I have to keep looking
back and forth at the dictionary. The second reason is that I refuse to
conform to todays requirements for political correctness. Its a disease.I wont
have any part of it. The third reason is that I treasure my
profanity, it makes me feel better. Its a shortcut to explaining just how
much I like or dislike something or someone. Some may think it’s classless
, some will say it shows a lack of imagination and education. Although I do
agree that it can get boring real quick like a Chris Rock concert. But
when used in place it serves a purpose.
And that purpose would be to defeat the enemy...
Read the rest, but beware. There is some strong language, but there is also a university of self education. There is also an honesty that is strikingly absent in our universities.
I know where Micky is coming from. The old been there, done that, but there's a whole lotta wisdom in street smarts.
