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

My Favorite Wine Buddy...

Merlot, Riesling, Moscato.
In a tumbler, a wine glass--
The vessel doesn't matter
And neither does the wine,
It's the company.
Isn't that what drinking is about?
Company? Camaraderie? Connversation?
A warmth from inside,
Whether heart or drink,
That lasts past the hurt?

My favorite wine buddy,
And there are several
From which to choose,
Is my mother.

That is, until she falls asleep.

Out

I Wish...

I've been thinking about my brother a lot lately...



At least three times a day I wish I could send him a text message, a terrible song lyric by Skee-Lo or some other crappy R&B singer from the 90s...

Iraq feels further away than it ever has before.  The last time he was there, I never had a cell phone, so I couldn't just fire off a text and wait for a laugh.  I had to write letters and wait a month for a phone call. 

I wrote this poem because I was disillusioned the night before he left from his last visit:

Shooting

This horror floated ashore from the sea of memory,
a corpse that looked too familiar to ignore
too much like myself.
It was only drunk talk on a Saturday night
guys shooting pool
shooting the breeze.
(But my own brother--
builder of snowbank forts
screamer of obscenities
bestower of bruises
the same man who stood up for me--
crossed a line.
"There is nothing"
he says
"like pulling the trigger and watching the guy fall down.")
shooting my image of my only brother.
He is never coming back.
---------------

My image of him was blown.  Completely.  And yet, all I can think about is how much I'd like him to sing "I Wish."  I wish I were a little bit taller; I wish I was a baller.  I wish I had a girl who looked good I would call her.  I wish I had a rabbit in a hat and a bat....

Out

Day 11 - Runaround Sue...

We started this day with only two things on the agenda:  1)  Go to National City, California, to take some pictures, since that's the bank where I work; and 2)  Go to church on the beach with my Uncle Howard.

So what did we do?  Well, you'll just have to see.

We started the day here:



That name is 100% indicative of what we saw on our drive.  It was a mile (maybe more) of car dealerships.  Ridiculous.  But we found the center of town and decided to take photos for my coworkers.  Commence photo shoot...NOW.



*snap*



*snap*



*snap*



*snap*

After this last one, some guy drove buy in a car an yelled "FAGGOT!" out his window.  I just said, "and proud of it!"  But honestly...it kind of got me down.  We got back in the car and started driving.  And when we saw this sign, we knew what our plans for the day were:



We wanted to see Tijuana...but from America. 



There's the gate.  It's worth blowing up this photo to see what those signs say.

But we got to see Tijuana, the happiest place on earth (according to Krusty the Clown).



It looked crowded and hot.  I really had no desire to go to Mexico, and I still don't. 

We take pride, though, in knowing we drove on the most southwesterly road in the entire U.S.



See?

I was nervous the whole time we were down that way because we both had heard that it's a REALLY bad time to go down to Tijuana.  Apparently people are being kidnapped, and their cell phones are being used to call loved ones and ask for money.  And if they don't get it?  Fingers in the mail. 

I, for one, planned to come back with all of my limbs intact...which I did (sort of), no thanks to our next destination.

We decided to drive up Silver Strand Highway to Coronado, since Robb didn't get to see it before.  I had heard that the beaches along Silver Strand are the most gorgeous around.  We didn't really get to see them, though, because half the scenery was military fence and the other half was mostly beachless bay.

But we did see this:



If anyone saw Transformers 2, this was in the movie briefly.  One of the Decepticons runs past this on his way to puke ball bearings into an exhaust tube while trying to retrieve the life source that will bring their leader back to life.  I wondered, at the time, what it was.  I still don't know, but apparently they keep Transformers down there or something...

Moving on...we did get a gorgeous view of the Coronado Bay Bridge.



Robb wanted to drive on it, so we decided we'd take it on our way back.

But we made it to the Hotel del Coronado, where we found the world most posh snail in a flower pot:



He was great.  I think he knew Marlon Brando, but he was playing coy...

There was a wedding party roaming around the grounds, and when we got out to the beach, we knew why:



How would you like to get married at the Hotel del?  Where would you go on your honeymoon if you're already there? 

I wanted to go down to the tidepools, since we hadn't gotten to see them before.  We saw all manner of wildlife including these:



And these:



Oh, and these!



Those boys were finding hermit and fiddler crabs and putting them in a Tupperware with water.  The guy in blue shorts was in charge of the container, and he kept freaking out and dropping it when the crabs tried to climb out...and yet they still let him keep that job. 

We hung out with them and searched for crabs.  I caught a really big hermit crab and Robb caught several good-sized crabs, so we donated them to the cause...which turned out to be diging a pit in the sand and seeing if they'd fight.  They wouldn't.

But we did see a starfish!



Look all the way at the bottom of that photo.  I apologize for the poor quality, but by that time it was after 3 and the tide was coming in, sending huge waves crashing over the rocks periodically.  Robb got a better photo, but he also got SOAKED! 

He was bending down to take a picture and he had his back to the waves.  All of a sudden this HUGE wave came in and crashed all up and down his back.  He guarded his camera, though.  After that he handed it to me, and we headed back towards the sand.  Being in charge of his camera, I, of course, slipped and fell, smashing it on the rocks.  It was fine, but I was bleeding from BOTH ankles.

We bid farewell to our crabs and our crab-fighting boys,



and we went to find a lifeguard. 



I asked him if he had some alcohol and a band-aid or two.  He goes, "Well I AM a lifeguard." all sarcastic-like...and I thought to myself, "He must be from Chicago or something...what an asshole."

But I got all bandaged up and we headed back to the car to get Robb's swim trunks so he could change and not get the car wet.  After he changed, we bid adieu to the Hotel del Coronado for the last time.



We got on our way to Oceanside for church on the beach.

The bay bridge was a nice ride:



We got to see the shipyards again.



That big tan boat in front is a banana hauler. 

On the way up the 5, we saw this:



and this:



I dunno...odd stuff these Californians build on the waterfront.

After getting lost twice, we finally found where my family was and I stopped feeling like a complete failure.  We met my Uncle Howard:



And my Aunt Lucia,



And the girls...and after a short hiatus, church on the beach got under way.



My Unlce Howard played guitar and sang, as he does.



He was in a late 80s/early 90s Christian hair metal band called Ezra at one point.  They weren't bad, honestly...but their look?  Whoo...back then it was amazing!  All giant long hair and semi-flashy costumes.  Ah, history...

But church was really great.



After some music, there was a short sermon, and I was reminded to live in the now...today.  I also realized that God had answered a prayer of mine from WAY back when...something I used to pray for all the time.  I was no longer scared that people knew I was a Christian.  I used to be TERRIFIED of people knowing that, for some reason...and I think after I came out I just didn't care who knew what about me...I was comfortable with myself and that's all that mattered.  But it was just cool to sit there and have that little revelation as the sun got lower...



and lower...



It was a gorgeous day, and I finally got my sunset on the beach!

After that we went back to my uncles house in Vista and had amazing burgers off the grill and swam in their pool while they got to spend some time meeting Robb.  It was a great way to spend the evening, and they are still the most loving and hospitable people I've ever met.

I went to be with a smile on my face, little knowing that it would be a hell of a day the next day...

Out

Jake...

I just learned...



...that my brother...



... is coming home...



...in August!

Of course, this comes on the heels of news telling me he's going to Iraq in September with his Army unit.  But he's coming home!

Out

Adventures In Oil Changing....

You know what the best way to get an oil change is? Taking your car three blocks to the shop and reading a book while you talk to the receptionist. Highly recommended.

While I was in there she said, "That's weird. You're the second Difazzio we've had in here today." And instantly all the bells and whistles in my head started going off. Red flags and sirens...mostly because I never want to have to run into my dad again. Ever.

"That's odd," I said. "There aren't very many of us."

"Do you have family in St. Charles?" she asked. (I breathed an instant sigh of relief.)

"Not that I'm aware of..." I said, curious. "What are their names?"

"Well, her name is Judy, and his name is...Joe? John?"

At this point I figured it wasn't anybody I knew. And then she says, "Oh, it's Jerry!"

Jerry and Judy are my uncle and aunt that I've never really met. He never came to any family functions, and she's his wife. I think I've seen Jerry a total of twice in my life. He walked through the hospital waiting room on his way to the bathroom when my grandma was dying. And...he must have been at the funeral, although I don't remember seeing him there. My dad always said he was an asshole. And...given what an asshole my dad is, I've always wanted to meet Jerry. He's probably actually a really cool guy. Or maybe he's an asshole. I guess I'll never know.

So that was exciting. And do you know what isn't exciting?

Tuesday I was leaving the Borders parking lot and my steering wheel was having issues turning right. And yesterday on my way back from Wheaton it was hissing when I turned right. So I asked them to check on it for me.

$534 and change. That's what it will cost to replace the rack. As in, rack and pinion. Or rack and peanut if you're Homer J. Simpson.

So...that's money I don't have. My mom said to use my tax return. She was apparently the one person I hadn't told my tax-related tale of woe to. I owed the fed $30.25. I get $60 from the state. Whoopty-fucking-doo.

And we just bought plane tickets two weeks ago for our vacation. Everything's just coming up roses for me.

But Robb reminded me that I purchased a warranty on the car when I bought it. And I have to call them back today and see if it would cover them replacing the rack. And if so, that'd be fucking amazing. And if not...that would be...well, not so fucking amazing.

So...hooray for adventures. My $23 oil change is about to cost me over $500.

Woot.

Out

Behind the Lens...

It's a little bit funny.

I was looking through photos the other day, and I was astounded by the number of photos I had taken of myself in a "Myspace" sort of way: extended arm, no smile, cute hair...you know the drill. And I thought to myself, "When did I become this person?"

And then I realized something. They are the only photos of me I have. Where are the photos of me with my friends? Where are the shots taken on vacation of me in front of the Grand Canyon or me hanging out the window of a car? I have tons of photos like these:



The MySpace shot, and...



The mirror shot.

And tons of photos like these:



Photos where my whole family (sister, stepdad, mom, brother, sister-in-law) went to do something, and I am mysteriously absent, and...



...photos like these where we did something amazing and odd in college (like play music in the elevator for three hours, making up songs the whole time) and I am not recorded.

And I realized that I am missing out, being the one behind the lens the whole time. I am strikingly absent from all of the records of my favorite memories. When I am old, no one will believe I ever had any part of this kind of thing. They'll just think I sat around and took photos of myself during a particularly good hair day while everyone else traipsed around Millennium Park and sang for strangers in the elevator.

Is there a fix for this, short of giving my camera full of memories to a perfect stranger and chancing theft? Not that I have found.

And will this change? Most likely, not.

Why is that? Because I love taking photos, hunting for those moments when a friend smiles their true smile or something crazy and unbelievable happens just as the shutter opens. It's the magic of the moment, the laughs and jokes captured right there to revisit, in case I never have another one. It's storing away little capsules full of happiness with my friends and family.

And really, if I wanted to look at myself, I could just look in a mirror...or visit MySpace.

Out