...at the dinner table in my childhood house we were always ready to meet the Queen, so strict was our father with table manners. There we were, 7 children around the dining room table, terrified to upset our quick tempered father. Nevertheless, we were an interesting family and did many unusual things that in hindsight make me like him better. He thought it was amusing to say (in his very British accent) "...can't afford 2 wheels for all of them..." and we rode unicycles; then used only morse code to communicate for periods of the day... all figure skated. From the outside it looked like a charmed family at the top of the hill. As time went by, dysfunction swelled and bit by bit the fabric of family unity seemed to unravel.
Such a shame, but our odd and foreign parents forced a sort of creative and adventurous spirit allowing us to forge an existence in our rural and parochial neighborhood that today bonds us. I suppose all siblings have a degree of this clubby feeling; no one else can be admitted. I'm sorry for single children in this regard. And sorry for my own 2 single children. Single because they are 12 years apart. I still expect they will feel deeply bonded as they age simply because they share a common mother. Not father however.
Welcome to my blog, where I will unleash all the stories in no particular order, driven only by my remembering and random inspiration. In doing so I hope to have a better understanding of how I landed here, and perhaps a deeper appreciation for my ecclectic life which has spiraled me into a sort of mid-life existential questioning.