M Revisits Childhood

I haven't lived at home in Ohio for seven years and go back less than I should. It's depressing and joyous all wrapped in to one. My parents look a little older, greyer and saggier around the belly each time I see them, so while it is good to be near them, it hurts a little at the same time.

My parents, in the wisdom of their old age, have somehow perfected a way to treat me like a ten year old (did you brush your teeth?) and like an adult--although a failure (how can you still be broke?) --all at the same time. Yet, now that I am older and removed from them, I feel like I exhibit the same behavior in return, questioning how they live and certain decisions that they make.

Let me clarify though: My parents are odd. I have always known this. They were never like anyone else's family. Throwbacks from the sixties, my parents would listen to old Janis Joplin records and burn patchouli while meditating. They spouted Dylan quotes like most people quote the bible and were always open and free with discussions (True story: I was sent to the office during fifth grade sex ed for saying that sex was a beautiful thing when two people loved each other and that people should not be afraid of making love or their own nudity).

So, while I wore tie-die in fifth grade and listened to the Beatles, other kids wore hyper-color, the shirts that chaged color with heat, and walked around with purple armpits and crotchscwhile listening to New Kids on the Block. Thus proving that living in the past is sometimes better than living in a crappy present. It could have made me into that weird girl with the hemp sweater, but instead it made me more confident in myself and made me be an open thinker as a child. And the funny thing is, kids are attracted to that. I knew that as long as I was confident, I was cool and surprisingly everyone else believed me.

I have my parents to thank for that, and for all the mistakes they made and the laundry list of things I have been bitter about over the years, I believe (read: hope in the assumption that I am a good person) that they did a good job.

Now though, when I go back home, they seem changed. The fire they had has gone out as the years have passed and only flickers occasionally. They still eat all organic, practice feng shui and listen to Dylan, but they seem to do it out of habit and with less zeal. More pronounced than anything is that they just seem Midwestern.

The biggest change is that my mother went from being a hard core liberal to an ultra conservative republican. This happened a few years ago when I was in college and we ended up not speaking for years because every conversation would turn into a political debate (and when I say debate, I mean she regurgitated O'Reilly for me right down to not allowing me a word in edgewise). My father stayed out of it and will not discuss politics anymore, as if he has become too disillusioned.

But enough with the serious depressing stuff and on to the odd and Midwestern. For one, and this is purely odd, my mother has taken to listening to Gregorian (which she pronounces Georgeian, which is in fact very Midwestern of her) and Celtic chant music, while my father has entered into post-midlife crisis and bought himself a convertible. He also insists on everyone calling him "The Dude" like in Big Lebowski and has taken to going to the gym sporting a doo-rag.

My mother on the other hand has handled her post-mid life crisis by getting herself another child in the form of a smelly, wild bulldog puppy. It pees on the floor, eats everything and runs around the house with her following after tripping over dog toys and shredded bits of whatever the dog has been chewing apart.

Yet, she loves it. My picture has even been replaced on the mantle by a professional picture taken at Sears of this new baby. She has even bought a treadmill specifically for walking this dog. This boggles my mind and when I first saw it made me understand how aliens must feel when they watch people. There was my mother walking along with the dog at her side on a wide treadmill. We live in the suburbs! There is a ton of land. She could walk outside but no, she likes to watch tv.

That is another thing about my parents. Tv game shows. They are the reason these mind-numbing programs keep being put on television. While I can not even watch these new game shows for longer than a second and am pretty certain that at least a thousand brain cells are killed in that one instant, my parents love it. I was subjected to both 'Deal or No Deal' and their screaming "Deal! Deal! Pick Deal you moron, Deal!" and the show 'One vs. 100,' in which they like to answer the dumbest questions and feel so much smarter because they know that a dreidel is made out of "clay, clay, clay" and not "plastic, plastic, plastic." We are Jewish for Jesus sake! If they didn't know that it would be a shame, and yet, it allows them to feel superior to 100 idiots who probably can't even tie their shoe.

But enough complaining about my parents. I really do love them, despite themselves and I am feeling slightly guilty (like I said, I'm Jewish and I swear they have perfected the ability to inflict guilt even when they aren't around).

The most depressing thing about going home is my hometown, where the level of excitment is this:

Small, full of farms and broken down houses, the center of town can be described using a minimal number of letters from the alphabet. Meaning there is a BK (this was built in 1996 and has been the most historically exciting thing to ever happen. I was in high school and kids actually wore King crowns for a month leading up to it), a KFC, a DQ, a CVS, a Micky D's and a BP. And that is it. The sum of my town using around twenty letters.

No one stays, except for the few who end up in the same jobs as there parents (mostly landscapers and hairdressers) and live in the same houses hating their lives. These are the same few who never graduated high school or spent several years in rehab.

It is sad. It was a good town when we were young. Just big enough to cause a lot of trouble and
small enough to have it never really matter. There were many nights of getting stoned in the woods, building big bonfires and sitting around drinking. We even, though I hate to admit it, went cow tipping a few times.

The Buddhist have a saying that nothing changes except the person and that is what makes the world seem different. I can tell that New York has changed me. Some ways good and some ways bad. I am happy that I moved and going home makes me realize that. Yet, having moved makes me realize how much I love my small, shitty hometown, even though it looks so different to me now.

Awe. I promise, this will be the extent of my sappiness. The next post, I promise will be funny. Got that nonexistent readers.