Page 3 - You can't Make This Shit Up!

Life as a book. What chapter is next?
June 9, 2017
I once heard a speech at a graduation from a boy who compared his life to a book. That really resonated with me. I feel like my life has been set into chapters.
Chapter 1: Long Island
My parents were married and both were hippies. We lived in a big house on a wide street down the hill from my elementary school. We played in our cement basement, where the cat litter box and my dads tools were. There was also a sub-zero upright freezer that my sister licked and almost lost half her tongue on when my mom pulled her off of it. Life lesson... use warm water and the tongue will
become unstuck. But hey, it was the 70’s and there was no internet. My mom panicked, and well, my sister still has a tongue. I don’t remember the actual event, only the story of it. But, alas, I digress.
I grew up with an older brother, Michael, and an older sister Donna. I was the baby. I had spinal meningitis at 9 months old and almost died. To this day, 45 years later, my mom cannot retell the story of my illness without emotion. Spoiler alert... I lived. My mom said she was so grateful I didn’t die that she single-handedly made me into a complete little narcissist that ruled our home. Family story is that I called a “family meeting” in the “forbidden room” to state what I expected from each member. I was about 4. Some of my “demands” included my sister letting me into her room any time I saw fit. I also wanted my dinner (and by dinner I was referring to the Salisbury steak TV dinner in the foil) served on a tray to me in the living room once a week while I watched Donny and Marie. There are more, but those are clearly the highlights. I was voted off the Island.
Much to my chagrin, we all had our own bedrooms growing up. I longed to share a bedroom with my sister. All the shows on TV from the Partridges to the Brady Bunch, those lucky bastards all got to room together. Not me; My room had shag carpet that not only held all the cat hair from our various felines, it also was a minefield of unseen thumbtacks, jax, and many a lost earring. My walls had red and white funky wallpaper. My twin size bed had blankets and sheets, no comforter. I actually had to make my bed for “real” daily. Not just throw the comforter on it. I longed for a comforter. So for my friends, and you know who you are, that make fun of me for having new bedding for each season, there you have it. I was scarred as a child with those damn blankets and I’m indulging as an adult. Guilty as charged. Gosh, this blog thing is already making my life so crystal clear.