Poshdeluxe

[by the way, the new nada surf is incredible. as expected. matthew caws, will you sing me to sleep? and to wake? and to live?]

where do you come from?

and what does that say about who you are? does it say anything?

maybe you hope it does. maybe you hope it doesn’t.

when i think about who i am, i can’t help but think about my family…
and i wonder about the faces i’ve seen in photographs… if i never
even knew them, can they still affect me?

my great grandfather on the irish side… he basically left my great
grandmother with a ton of kids to care for so he could pursue adventure
and alcohol on the high seas… still, i love this photograph. and i like alcohol. so there you go.

here’s the wife he left…

i wonder if i have any piece of her inside of me?

when i look at this next picture (of the mcalorums, my grandmother’s
family), i feel like their eyes are trying to tell me the secrets of
life… how to smile even after the world has worn you down. i still
haven’t quite figured out what they’re saying…

but so far, i’m still smiling.

here’s my grandfather (cajun side) with his brother:

man, i miss him. i like to think i’ve got his sense of humor… except
i don’t really tell dirty jokes. but he had a mouth like a sailor.
guess i do too. what do you think about that, pawpaw?

my grandparents fought like cats and dogs for as long as i can remember
(that’s what happens when a cajun from the bayou marries an irish girl,
i guess). but i forget that whenever i look at this picture of them:

my father always tells me how much they loved dancing. guess that’s where i get it from…

and here we see my dad, looking completely gawky and adorable in his
bowtie, and my aunt, in the most precious easter outfit ever:

i picture myself, a little branch on the family tree, and think about
how the life now inside of me, green and fresh, first passed through
these other branches. i carry them with me. in everything i do. whether
i think about it or desire it or not.

and there’s something comforting in that. comforting like the
practiced, steady rhythm of my grandparents’ feet on the dance floor.

this is where i come from.