A Family ReportIt's always sad when you start to understand the tenuous connection your family maintains with reality. I know that I have my imaginary moments (as recorded here), but I only today realized how much this trait is inherited. As we gathered to celebrate my father's birthday this afternoon, the conversation revolved around who might win today's SuperBowl matchup. They carefully reminded us that most people would be busy tonight because the kick-off would be at 6:30. I mean, what do we know? The Brunette and I don't have a television, so we miss so many of these cultural moments.
I should have known that Bush would not have allowed the Iraqi elections to be on SuperBowl Sunday. We'd be too distracted from his pet project.
The sadder thing is that I've also discovered that my family's grip on reality has been pretty loose for a long while.
I grew up with this little bit of family lore: my mother maintains that my birth was stressful, not because it was a difficult birth. Rather, she and my father (they are now divorced) had a disagreement over the timing of my delivery. She felt like she was in labor, but he didn't want to interrupt his viewing of the SuperBowl. So many years have passed and I had this story as a foundation for my being.
It's all bullocks!
I just looked up the history of SuperBowls. The SuperBowl in the year of my birth was held on 15 January. That's a full week after I was brought into the world. Is it any wonder I'm a little off?