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Showing posts from February, 2015

Scraps and Unused Ends #3: Family Stories

This is obviously a companion piece to my previous post; it is something I wrote some time ago, and it seems that my feelings on the matter have changed very little.   ------------------------------- Family Stories When I was young, my mother told me of one of her dreams.   I was small, single digits probably, but even now I remember it.   My mother’s dream is one common to parents I think; I have had dreams different but similar since the birth of my own sons. I wonder sometimes about people’s desire to tell others of their dreams because the stories they tell are invariably boring and inaccurate.   I think of the most dark, private thoughts in my own head and the way they are expressed in dreams sometimes and I wonder if it is a favor that God did us that we are mostly unable to remember them. In my mother’s dream, she was in a speeding car, in the passenger seat.   On the hood of the car was my brother as a little kid, a toddler probably, hanging on.   No matter what she did, she c

Scraps and Unused Ends #3: Family Stories

This is obviously a companion piece to my previous post; it is something I wrote some time ago, and it seems that my feelings on the matter have changed very little.   ------------------------------- Family Stories When I was young, my mother told me of one of her dreams.   I was small, single digits probably, but even now I remember it.   My mother’s dream is one common to parents I think; I have had dreams different but similar since the birth of my own sons. I wonder sometimes about people’s desire to tell others of their dreams because the stories they tell are invariably boring and inaccurate.   I think of the most dark, private thoughts in my own head and the way they are expressed in dreams sometimes and I wonder if it is a favor that God did us that we are mostly unable to remember them. In my mother’s dream, she was in a speeding car, in the passenger seat.   On the hood of the car was my brother as a little kid, a toddler probably, hanging on.   N

Made of Stories

There is a story in my family about how, when I was three or so, I tried to glue the cat to the dryer.  Everyone could tell you about it, because, in my family at least, that is part of our history.  The story of How Ralph Tried to Glue The Cat to the Dryer is a classic.  But I don't remember that happening, not in any real way.  I have no idea whether it was Elmer's glue or rubber cement, I don't know if the cat was Siamese or tabby, I don't know if I was even slightly successful in my attempt or if we just ended up with a pissed-off sticky cat.  I do not remember anything at all.  I suspect, however, if I were to take a polygraph, and I was unprepared for the question, I would be able to say with certainly that yes, I did attempt to glue the cat to the dryer, sir, yes, that happened.  And this is the thing: it doesn't matter really if I did or didn't.  It is just a thing that everyone in my family knows to be true whether it happened as anyone remembers it or

Made of Stories

There is a story in my family about how, when I was three or so, I tried to glue the cat to the dryer.  Everyone could tell you about it, because, in my family at least, that is part of our history.  The story of How Ralph Tried to Glue The Cat to the Dryer is a classic.  But I don't remember that happening, not in any real way.  I have no idea whether it was Elmer's glue or rubber cement, I don't know if the cat was Siamese or tabby, I don't know if I was even slightly successful in my attempt or if we just ended up with a pissed-off sticky cat.  I do not remember anything at all.  I suspect, however, if I were to take a polygraph, and I was unprepared for the question, I would be able to say with certainly that yes, I did attempt to glue the cat to the dryer, sir, yes, that happened.  And this is the thing: it doesn't matter really if I did or didn't.  It is just a thing that everyone in my family knows to be true whether it happened as anyone remembers it or