Friday, January 13, 2012

What January 13th Means To Me: Happy Birthday, Mom!

I'm terrible at remembering birthdays. Remarkably bad.  Generally, I can get within a week or so..."I know its in late June, right...right? July, maybe?  Wait, no it's June." But hey, that's what Facebook is for! 

Anyway, I never forget my Mom's!  And I'm sure she'd kill me if I did. 

I not so secretly blame my mother for my uninteresting writing.  While lots of writers can harken back to dark times in their childhood for inspiration, I really cannot.  They just didn't exist.  Unless you call Space Mountain being closed during a family vacation to Disneyworld tragic.  Bad example, that actually is. 

I was listening to NPR this morning and a guy was telling a story about how, when he was younger, his mother drove him out to the country, held him against a tree, and put a shotgun to his head, while warning him that she'd take him back to that tree to shoot him if he didn't stay in line (actually, she said she'd shoot him if he were ever a "faggot," but that makes the comparison less apt.)

Where was this kind of tough love, Mom?  I probably could have written a nice memoir had you done something like that.  You didn't even need to waste gas and drive me to the country. You could have done this in the backyard.  C'mon. 

I was reading an article yesterday about football player, Demaryius Thomas, and how his entire childhood was spent visiting his mother in jail. She was incarcerated because of cocaine trafficking. 

Mom, you couldn't have pushed a lil coke for the sake of my writing career? Heroin? How about some weed?  I could have written some awesome short stories about visiting prison as a child.  Perhaps Dad could have said, "we are just visiting your Mom at camp!"  C'mon Mom, you shoulda lived a little.

No attempted murder?  Unexplained absences?  Nothing?  You could have cared less about my grades, at least?  Told me to play in traffic once or twice (well, maybe you did do this). 

So, thanks. Because you were/are a great Mom and gave me a fantastic childhood, my writing is shitty and boring, and I have to rely on dick jokes and manufacture my own drama.  Great, thanks for nothing.

Anyway, all kidding aside, she's a great caring person, and I hope she enjoys her birthday.

Happy birthday, Mom!