GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #277: 33 YEARS

My dad read a lot, but he was not a creative. Not like we think of. He was a cook. His mom was a teacher. His dad was a cook. On his side of the family, you were either cooks or teachers. So it didn't come from his side. No, it came from Mom. She was an amazing artist. She could play piano like nobody's business. I knew it came from her. After knowing Gramps for all my life, I know where she got it. Gramps didn't read or write or do anything creative, but he had a way of describing things that convinced me that if he were born in other circumstances, he could have been a creative.


I remember when I was a kid. I wrote my first story, and I was infatuated with myself for doing so. I showed it to my mom, and she was so proud. But she said, "You have to date it."


"What do you mean?" I asked.


"You should write the date on your story. That way, you know when you wrote it."


"That's stupid," I said.


"No, it's not. You'll thank me later."


"No,  won't." I was a stubborn asshole of a kid.


"So rub it in my face," she said. "When you're writing stories for a living, you'll know exactly when you wrote your first story."


"Nuh-uh!" I was only interested in writing the next story.


That was 33 years ago to the day. I know because despite my misgivings, I listened to Mom. I wrote the date on my first story.


My mom has been gone for many years. My dad has been gone for, what, a couple? I want to thank the both of them. You hear all of these horrible stories about parents who tried to lure their kids away from the arts because, unless you're extraordinarily lucky, that's not a good way to make money. My dad got it, and he blessed my course in life. I'm glad I was able to gain his pride before he passed. My mom got to see the beginning of my writing career, and she could not have been more supportive.


I remember when I discovered Mom's journal from when I'd been born. It was interesting to read. I'm so glad I had something that bore her soul. Not a fake bullshit thing that she wanted to censor. It was an honest accounting.


I like to think I'm an honest accounter. That's not a word, obviously, but you see where I'm coming from. That's what I do on these GF essays. Honest accounting. Mom is where that comes from. She would have been 61 by now. She had me at a young age. Dad was 60. I suspect I was an accident. But what the hell. I'm here. I write. I get published.


I am my mom and dad's legacy.