And They're Off!

In our family, there is no quiet reflection, no sober discussion of the present dilemma, no thoughtful consideration of the other person's feelings. If I didn't know better I would think we are old country Italians. In truth, we're just crazy polocks. There's loads of huffing and puffing, over dramatic eye rolling, voices raising to high pitched nasaly upper midwestern whines and dump truck loads of guilt.

Today Big Pappy and my mother were warming up the Pearl Caddy to head for the enchanted kingdom of the menopausal palaces. They've got the car, they just need to get to F-L-A. Checking over today's mail he hands a particular letter to me. It's from Social Services asking him to write a personal letter in detail about an employee who is seeking an adoption.

Scanning it over I ask him if I'm supposed to write this letter for him. Is that what you're asking I'm thinking, because you're not asking me. I am already agitated with him because he wants me to watch over his disturbed lhasa apso, Yasha. He nods affirmatively.

In my mind I'm cringing because in surreal slow motion I feel the hounds of hell stampeding right out of my big gob.

"Okay, so you're asking me to write this letter for you? What exactly am I supposed to say about his relationship with his son?" I erupt.

I've known this person since I was 14 years old. He's a good person but I'm not the one to be writing this letter. He has no relationship his 22 year old son. He paid child support but was never there in any way to mentor and guide his own flesh and blood. His son was going away to train in some military unit and he wouldn't go to the going away party because he didn't want to see his ex mother in law. Should a single mother be the one putting pen to paper here, Pappy?

I agree this lucky baby would be gaining a cozy, loving home. He's a completely different person now.

"What do you want her to do, Jim? Lie for him?", my mother says.

This letter asks you to describe their current relationship, their drug and alcohol use and everything someone would want to know when placing a sweet babe into a home.

Honestly, I would have to write something like:

To Whom It May Concern-

Babyseeker is generally a goodhearted individual. Please just look past the mood swings his habitual use of marijuana brings to certain, I mean any, given situation. He's usually very happy and then again you just never know. Although he's stolen from me, I consider him a great employee. I've caught him reading through confidential documents but I trust him completely. He's very handy also. Did I mention the time he left a company truck in the median of the interstate...

"No, give it to me. I'll take care of it. You don't have to do a damn thing!", he seethes at me.

He doesn't understand that this letter did not come to ME.

"You always have to have a little larceny in your heart, Heid," he told me as a fresh faced graduate, coming home to start work in sales for the family.

Maybe this is why I could never fit in with his little boys club at work. I just don't believe in that ethic, that fucked way of doing business. It's worked for him, but not for our family.

I leave the house with Snowflake and he doesn't even say goodbye to me. He's a hot inwardly raging inferno that with one look could zap my heart out with his red laser glare.

My mother calls me two seconds later on my cell to tell me that I've ruined their vacation and loads me up with a gigantic mound of smelly maggot infested guilt.

They're not even out of the driveway. I take a deep breath and I'm already a million miles away and my two weeks are looking mighty fine.