You know your on the bus when the man next to you is wearing a Walmart baggie over his curlers in his hair. I do my best to ignore him. It’s not easy. Come on. This guy is a freak.
He gets freakier when he pulls out his Samsung cell phone ( I wonder how does he afford that) and takes several ( you got it ) selfies. He got the mad look goin’ on. He then cocks his head to put on yeah I know I am bad look. If that was not enough, He puckers his lips and puts on his best Madonna impression.
Snap. Snap. Snap. Swish. The photo goes into cyberspace.
Getting off the bus at my stop, I decide I need to get a latte and ponder that man a bit more. Anything for an excuse to have a great latte, right. Has the selfie gone to far? What is your reaction? Is it LOL, WTF, FAIL, OMG, or my favorite the smiley icon?
Sipping my coffee full of prejudice, an epiphany of sorts overtakes me. Who gives a rat’s ass if someone’s hair is in a bag? If that is fine to that person’s personal acceptance, who am I to make a big deal about it? OK. Maybe he wants to be a freak. It is quite possible he thinks I am the freak. Who am I to put my way of thinking, behaving, or reacting as the right way? I am different. You are different. It does not matter in the grand scheme of things. Does it?
Genealogy has become one of my favorite hobbies since retirement. My family research has come with rich rewards. Those rewards have shown some correct interpretations as well as some misinterpreted results. Addressing these new historical narratives in my life as well as my ancestors has been brought about with meticulous research. This has come in the form of DNA studies combined with other visual documents of evidence. The result of all of this has led to a higher level of thoughtful discussion.
Most families have trees that have been in hiding for so long that when a truth is unearthed, it is like a newness or a revelation just waiting to be rediscovered. So it is amazing to me when I was contacted by a historian to divulge more of my European connections for a book he is writing. I have found out that historians are so hungry for personal stories to go along with their mundane facts and evidence. This makes perfect sense. However, suppose you find out your family is odd?
It is clear that there can be no sugar-coating one’s heritage. The blood line can not lie. Oddity is bound to be unearthed!
I am reminded of the Bible story of Jesus. He was descended from King David who was an adulterer and murderer. Another example was Rehab. She was a prostitute in Jesus’ line. As you can imagine, there was no Leave it to Beaver narrative when it comes to the basic of Bible Stories.
I think we all have something odd in our genealogy. The truth is all of us have darkness as well as light in our past. We would not be human if we did not.
It is in finding hope in any situation no matter how atrocious it may be for our family history. It is amazing to me the story of Jesus who was born from a family line that has so much evil, yet He was Totally Good. It is a wonder to me, why did the Bible show Jesus descendants? It hit me then that—maybe the writers of the Good Book wanted to show just how “normal” Jesus was and that His fulfillment could only come from an odd background perhaps as your own or mine.
I know you have come to love this wonderful dog of mine. Remember him in your thoughts and prayers. My son and I decided to go ahead with his surgery. He is resting, but in pain. Linus is almost 15. He has been the love of our lives.
If you want to see more photos of him go here: http://alesiablogs.wordpress.com/about-linus/
Growing up with a sexy mama was not that big of a deal. She never flaunted herself. Her daughters saw her as only mom and she was fun. However, She was the quintessential dress up queen. Ironically enough, she gave birth to the biggest tomboy in history when it came to me.
Buying clothes was not the norm in my childhood so my mom taught herself to sew. She followed a pattern and away she went. She was so precise, so exact and so perfect!
“Alesia, look at this dress pattern. I think it would look pretty on you.”
“No, mom. I like these pants instead.”
Mom would look accepting at my choice of a wild and loud printed pair of slacks. I would always pick out a zany pair of socks to go with my chose of attire. I knew I would totally kill in them. The louder the print the better was my motto at the age of 10!!!
Imagination was my strong suit when it came to seeing myself in front my mirror and my record player at full blast. Singing along to my favorite teen idols was a must. It was relaxing to me and my one decade of life experiences knew what was best for my psyche.
Forming a mental image in my mind back then of dancing and singing in a future state allowed me to embellish the thought of crowds surrounding me as I strutted my stuff to the vinyl of choice on my LP player. I would daydream until I was able to really take hold of a not yet experienced true sense of myself.
That was a great childhood. I think back on it now in the past and realize I did my best to play in my imaginary world so I did not have to think too long about reality. Escaping to another venue was easy back then. For many escaping when one “grows” up is not so easy. Reality must set in and truth needs to be seen for what it is. The truth however could sting. Yet, in my youthful and playful imagination, I would go somewhere fantastic. When the time would come, I would fly so high that when I landed, it would be on soft ground with sure footing.