Dear ol' Mom, such a unique sense of style, it never failed to get her noticed. She was always ahead of the latest trend... some times way, way ahead…..... she did for sleeveless frocks in the 50’s what Joan Crawford did for shoulder pads in the 40s.

With no sleeve to bear its enormous weight Mom very conveniently wore her heart on her actual forearms or biceps. Oh she knew about commitment, make no mistake.

Above all else we could always count on Mother's clever je ne sais quoi (a quality no one could quite put their finger on but since it got her out of jail on more than one occasion we didn’t really question it) and her genius capacity for putting people at ease like the PTA for example. After all it was this "quoi" that helped Mom to reel in a catch like Dear ol'Dad.

She didn't cook but if the way to her mans heart was through his stomach then to his stomach she would go. Only instead of brandishing a spatula Mom brought her tattoo-grip to the party and the rest as they say is history, or in this case an actual history book. Indelibly written over the once sinewy folds and unforeseen crannies of Dads epidermis. This was a match made in Heaven.

Someone once said of Dad "the guy's got a face like the inside of a spaghetti squash" and I would have to agree, he was a handsome devil. One of the best plumbers in the business Dad brought new meaning to the art of cleaning pipes. He earned his reputation by burrowing his way through the burrows of New York one leaky drainpipe (and shameless housewife) at a time. And that reputation would precede him for all of the days of his life (on the outside).

There's plenty more to tell about my parents and their many contributions to my minor delinquencies. But for the time being this brief stencil of my life, sketched out by a woman who almost single handedly changed the course of fashion will have to suffice.

Subsequent posts will offer a more revealing glimpse into my personal gene pool or as Mom & Dad liked to call it, the family inkwell. I'll share graphic accounts of growing up carnival and talk about permanent labels that come with that territory.

Plus a lesson in painting life with broad strokes, how to needle your way into a mans heart and advice from Dad himself on the ins and outs of doing life in the slammer. Until then, friends.


  1. What a colorful pair....I love this post so much! How interesting...I thought growing up the son of a southern pentecostal preacher was full of good stories, I can't wait to read more friend:)

  2. Seriously, they are your parents!? Frickin' Awesome!! OMG, I see a best seller memoir. I can't wait for more.

  3. Thinking about it now, I hope I didn't offend. It may not have been so awesome for you. I'm just fascinated with people who follow their own road.


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