I Was Born in a Log Cabin…
…Actually, I was born in a hospital in Florida when I was quite young. My parents were even younger- Mom was 19 and my father, 21. They brought me, their first of three bundles of joy, home to a tiny garage apartment with a 1/2 at the end of the address. And there the fun began.
I was an ugly baby. I look like a female version of my dad, who was actually very handsome- kind of a cross between Dean Martin and Eddie Fisher. This look works very well on a man– not so great on a baby. I imagine myself back then, in my little baby carriage, a tiny, squirmy thing with loads of black hair, and my dad’s prominent nose.
My parents were young and dumb and very confused. Mom was a tiny Catholic girl with a martyr complex, and Dad– well, Dad was Jewish, and just plain nuts. Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. When I was a few days old, Mom walked by with me in her arms between him and the television. Dad was on the sofa, cleaning his gun. Just as she passed, BLAM!!!!!!! The gun “accidentally” went off, and he shot out the TV screen. Had that been choreographed a little differently, we would have given new meaning to the term “prime time lineup.” My mom’s mom, visiting to help out with her first grandchild, was sitting nearby. Cool as a cucumber, she said, “Well, now what are you going to do? You just destroyed your new TV.” So Dad took the TV back to the store and told them that it just spontaneously exploded. They replaced it, and all was well. Except I think he still wanted to sort of kill us.
