Chapter 1: Birth
I don't remember being born. Next chapter!
Okay, kidding. Well, not about not remembering being born, that's obviously true. But there's still stuff to talk about, it just won't be primary sources.
For example, I was born in 1985, in the Summer, during a heat-wave. I was born 4 weeks pre-mature and had to spend a significant amount of time in a humidicrib. I was tiny. Legend has it that the doctors didn't think it was important whether I was breast-fed or not, but mum insisted and through her persistance, I survived. So, if you believe the ancient stories, this is all her fault. I was born with both a mother and father (mum had like a farrah faucett hairdo, and dad had a moustache, or at least that's how I remember the photos looking). I also had a sister that was a year and a half older than me (But she had inherited neither the hairdo nor the moustache, sadly). The house I was brought home to was a fixer-upper (legends tell the thermometers read 40 degrees that day, and with no air conditioners! There was nothing to do but endure, and pray that the sun would eventually relent). Like, it was such a fixer-upper, it had an outdoor bathroom *in suburbia*. But it meant my parents owned their own mortgage at 20, and had paid off that mortgage at 30. They worked hard to make that little home (a refurbished station house) feel cozy. The bathroom was already fixed by the time I had memories of the place. But every square foot of that cottage had been patched up better than it had ever been before-hand.
Mum worked all the time. Not just full-time, but also doing the brunt of the housework. Might sound weird but I think I didn't feel particularly close with my mum. She was a very practical caregiver. Not cold, but certainly not warm either. I don't begrudge her that, that practicality and hard work were how she showed she cared. Mum has had a lot of jobs over the years, but with generally a strong upwards-mobility trend. Before I was born she was a nurse. When I was very small, she worked at a candy factory (and you were allowed to take loose candy home, if it fell onto the floor! Wrapped candy, I mean), then she worked as a housing inspector for the department of defense, then she worked at the department of employment. She was ambitious.
Dad worked most of the time, I think. I'm pretty sure there were stressful periods (or maybe just the one) where he was unemployed and depressed. But he also got to be the fun one. He would read stories to me and my sister every night. One time, mum I think felt a little left out, so she read us The Hobbit. She'd had less practice using a story-telling voice, but it was still really nice that she wanted to do that with us. But other than that it was Dad. He also taught us some of the wild inventions he and his siblings used to use to keep themselves occupied out in their shack in the bush. They were so poor, they were about a generation behind the times technologically. They'd eat the local birds when they could kill them. Not that he would dwell on the hardships, but when he said they made their own fun, he really meant it. He taught us how to make rubber-band guns, garbage bag hot-air balloons (with cotton-balls dipped in metholated spirits. Until one kinda almost started a fire, and then he suggested maybe we don't do that anymore), mouse-trap cars, and paddle-pop boomerangs. Dad worked at the same window factory almost all his life. Before that he worked at a different window factory. He started out on the floor, but as the company was adopting computers, he was the only employee who had a computer at home, so they quickly put him to work on that stuff. He didn't like that job, or his boss, but he stuck with it. I don't think it was just a noble sacrifice as a provider type thing, so much as he'd found something reasonably comfortable that paid him a lot more than his education level would usually warrant, and he didn't want to take a gamble on what else was out there. He found ways to make it work for him, including demanding work-from-home later on in life, *well* before COVID made it cool.
My sister, the bards tell us, was immediately very protective (and maybe a little possessive) of me. She was, some might say "spririted" and "particular", others might say "bossy". I might say she was a bully. I might say I'm still living with the physical and emotional scars. But I might be being dramatic.
So, much more detail to come, but that's a little snapshot of the immediate world I was born into.
Okay, kidding. Well, not about not remembering being born, that's obviously true. But there's still stuff to talk about, it just won't be primary sources.
For example, I was born in 1985, in the Summer, during a heat-wave. I was born 4 weeks pre-mature and had to spend a significant amount of time in a humidicrib. I was tiny. Legend has it that the doctors didn't think it was important whether I was breast-fed or not, but mum insisted and through her persistance, I survived. So, if you believe the ancient stories, this is all her fault. I was born with both a mother and father (mum had like a farrah faucett hairdo, and dad had a moustache, or at least that's how I remember the photos looking). I also had a sister that was a year and a half older than me (But she had inherited neither the hairdo nor the moustache, sadly). The house I was brought home to was a fixer-upper (legends tell the thermometers read 40 degrees that day, and with no air conditioners! There was nothing to do but endure, and pray that the sun would eventually relent). Like, it was such a fixer-upper, it had an outdoor bathroom *in suburbia*. But it meant my parents owned their own mortgage at 20, and had paid off that mortgage at 30. They worked hard to make that little home (a refurbished station house) feel cozy. The bathroom was already fixed by the time I had memories of the place. But every square foot of that cottage had been patched up better than it had ever been before-hand.
Mum worked all the time. Not just full-time, but also doing the brunt of the housework. Might sound weird but I think I didn't feel particularly close with my mum. She was a very practical caregiver. Not cold, but certainly not warm either. I don't begrudge her that, that practicality and hard work were how she showed she cared. Mum has had a lot of jobs over the years, but with generally a strong upwards-mobility trend. Before I was born she was a nurse. When I was very small, she worked at a candy factory (and you were allowed to take loose candy home, if it fell onto the floor! Wrapped candy, I mean), then she worked as a housing inspector for the department of defense, then she worked at the department of employment. She was ambitious.
Dad worked most of the time, I think. I'm pretty sure there were stressful periods (or maybe just the one) where he was unemployed and depressed. But he also got to be the fun one. He would read stories to me and my sister every night. One time, mum I think felt a little left out, so she read us The Hobbit. She'd had less practice using a story-telling voice, but it was still really nice that she wanted to do that with us. But other than that it was Dad. He also taught us some of the wild inventions he and his siblings used to use to keep themselves occupied out in their shack in the bush. They were so poor, they were about a generation behind the times technologically. They'd eat the local birds when they could kill them. Not that he would dwell on the hardships, but when he said they made their own fun, he really meant it. He taught us how to make rubber-band guns, garbage bag hot-air balloons (with cotton-balls dipped in metholated spirits. Until one kinda almost started a fire, and then he suggested maybe we don't do that anymore), mouse-trap cars, and paddle-pop boomerangs. Dad worked at the same window factory almost all his life. Before that he worked at a different window factory. He started out on the floor, but as the company was adopting computers, he was the only employee who had a computer at home, so they quickly put him to work on that stuff. He didn't like that job, or his boss, but he stuck with it. I don't think it was just a noble sacrifice as a provider type thing, so much as he'd found something reasonably comfortable that paid him a lot more than his education level would usually warrant, and he didn't want to take a gamble on what else was out there. He found ways to make it work for him, including demanding work-from-home later on in life, *well* before COVID made it cool.
My sister, the bards tell us, was immediately very protective (and maybe a little possessive) of me. She was, some might say "spririted" and "particular", others might say "bossy". I might say she was a bully. I might say I'm still living with the physical and emotional scars. But I might be being dramatic.
So, much more detail to come, but that's a little snapshot of the immediate world I was born into.
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