2005-06-05 - 11:50 a.m.
I�m at my parents� house in Tarrytown, NY. After my sister finished high school, they made the great Jewish diaspora from Brooklyn to Westchester (even though my mom is Italian and they might have left for deepest Jersey). Whenever we�re here, my sister and I make up stories about our fictional suburban childhood. �You remember sneaking smokes in that wooded lot across the street? Oh yeah, that never happened.�
Today there�s going to be a graduation party for me with all these obscure relatives. Sometimes how (and whether) they�re related to me has to be explained. Uncle Hidalgo and Aunt Rosalita, I like to say (I have no such relations). �Everyone important in your life!� insisted my mom. Actually it�s everyone important in her life. I have only a very limited connection to them.
I�m afraid that the fact that you were alive when I was born and occasionally receive dubious third-hand updates on my activities does not mean you�re an essential part of my life. A good rule of thumb is whether you call me �Geoffrey�. This suggests that you haven�t paid much attention since I started introducing myself as �Geoff� around age 10. (My parents sometimes call me �Geoffrey�, but I figure that, since they named me, they can call me anything they want.)
Don�t get me wrong; I don�t mean to imply that I�m resentful somehow. I�ll be happy to see these people, reminders of my youth. And even if this is mostly a party for my parents, I owe them a great deal as I know I could not have done college without their financial support. I�ll smile and wave for the guests, so to speak. They�re just not integral to my life.
Anyway, sorry to bitch and whine. Isn�t that what blogs are for, though. Please do let me know if I sound unnecessarily sour; I don�t mean to come off that way.
� 2005 Geoff Gladstone
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