My Life in Pictures
HOLY TRINITY
My First Taste of Freedom
I didn't go to church here or anything. I'm a heathen bastard. But I did go to daycare here from age 2 until the age of 11. I don't remember much.
But
my mom has a favorite story:
I was raised to not swear ever. It was just not acceptable in my mom's house. So one day I got into mom's car after preschool,
visibly upset. My mom, concerned, asked what was wrong.
I cried, "Mom! Today someone said the S-H word!"
My mother, not wanting—as she said—to give swear words any power, casually remarked, "Oh, you mean 'shit'?"
I looked at her, quite shocked, and said, "No! I mean 'shut up'!"
Mom was mortified. She thought she had corrupted my mind.
For the record, I now swear like a sailor. But I blame that one on public school.
Quick thoughts:
A few years ago, mom and I were talking about this and she mentioned something about my daycare and about how cool it was that
I was exposed to same sex couples at such a young age. Okay, that isn't even close to what she said, but I thought, "No way! I never even
considered that they were a couple." I am oblivious to this stuff, apparently.
• There was this old man who would walk by the playground area every few days. It was fenced in and we had supervision,
so it wasn't an abduction attempt or anything, but he would stop to chat. He had a voicebox that he used to talk with. You know those things
that you have to put up to a whole in your trachea to speak? In hindsight, I should have considered that freakier.
• Every Thursday the Scandinavian bakery across the alley would give you a free donut if you knocked on their back door.
Man did I look forward to Thursday. Jelly-filled (especially lemon) were my favorite.
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