Family Ties...

Show me that smile,
Oh, show me that smile!

Okay...I'll stop singing, now that that song is stuck in your head.

What's this post about?  Well, call it a companion piece to go with the strangers post.  I just wanted to show you people from my life who have made an impact on me:  My family.

Let's start way back when.

This is one of two photos I have of my grandpa (Sam), my biological father's dad:



As far as I know, he's still alive, although I hear he moved into a condo a few years ago, so I have no idea where he lives, and since I don't talk to my dad, I guess I'll never know.

I have no photos of my grandmother on my dad's side (Lorainne).  She died when I was a teenager-ish.  I also have no photos of my grandfather on my mother's side (Andy).  He died when I was very, very young.  My only memory of him is him sitting on a chair in my grandmother's house smiling at me.  It may not even be a real memory, as I think she may have moved into that place after he died. 

Speaking of her, this is the only photo I have of my grandmother (Bess), my mom's mom.  We just called her Gramma Gramma:



We have about a million of these pads lying around the house, but Mom packed them away a few years back to preserve them.  We used to draw moustaches and eyepatches on her.  She died when I was about eleven or twelve, shortly after my sister was born.

This is the only photo I have of my dad, whom I don't talk to anymore (that's a long story for another day that, surprisingly, has nothing to do with me being gay):



Yup.  I don't really have anything to say about him, except that he and my mom divorced when I was six, and we visited him regularly until we were old enough to only visit when we wanted, and then I stopped seeing him at all shortly after I started my senior year of college.

My mom got married to Duane a few years after her divorce.  I think I was eight.



That's them.

My older brother Jake is currently in Iraq.  He's due home for good in September.



I have tons of photos of him doing goofy shit.  We're partners in crime when we go out.  He and his wife live in Washington, but they've lived all over for Army stuff.

And my sister (who is really a half-sister, but we don't think of it like that), just rolled her car on Saturday.  She's fine, but the car isn't.



She was...12 in this picture, I think.  She's almost 17.  She's grown up a lot, has braces and beautiful teeth now, long dark hair.  She's a boy killer.  I call her Chris, but she's been known by many names:  Christy Jo, Crispy Jones, Christy, CJ, Turd, Christine, but NEVER, EVER Chrissy!

And that's my family.

Out