My Kin

Yesterday I was struck with a violent realization: I haven't told the readers of The Nerd Archives anything about my family yet! Well, that simply isn't acceptable.

You know how special my family is to me? I live in their house. I eat similar food, but not exactly the same. I share their cats and TVs, and I sit on some of the same furniture. I go on road trips with most of them, but sometimes one person doesn't go. I share some memories with them, and other memories I keep to myself. We don't read a lot of the same books, but we all have the same last name.
.

I could make that into a poem.

Well, I better open up to you about my kin sooner or later. Why not now?

MY FATHER:

My dad is old. I'll just go out and say it. He's in his late 70s. He doesn't know his own name, and he's in a nursing home for American citizens who are too old to be allowed.

Okay, fine. I'm messing with you. But I will say this: he's older than the average dad of a teenager. But you know what? I think that's a good thing. It means he's wiser than he would be otherwise, calmer, smarter, and considerably richer.

I have never regretted the fact that my dad is at an advanced age. I rejoice in it!

My father is the headmaster of my old elementary school. That used to have weight, because it meant that other elementary schoolers gave me a certain amount of respect that I didn't deserve. It doesn't anymore, though. How could it? If some kids were about to beat me up, would I just say, "Stop! My Dad is the headmaster of a private elementary school!" "Okay, man. We don't want any trouble."

He's a good headmaster, if I can say so myself. He's also very artistic, a wonderful writer, and very funny.
.

One moderately important side note: He doesn't have any legs.

MY MOTHER:

Yeah, the Episcopal Priest. That's the one. It's not at all like what you might think it would be to have a priest as a parent--an Episcopal priest, at least. When a woman is a priest like my Mom, you can hardly tell the difference. She's in book club. She used to be a soccer mom. She still does the dishes. There's very little strangeness because of it.

.

She actually started out as a pharmacist, which I've always thought was weird. Priests nowadays seem to come from unexpected places. A priest at a Methodist church in Atlanta used to be a comedian. Comedians, pharmacists, lawyers, prison guards, television show hosts, bounty hunters, assassins, etc. You get the point.

.

She's very friendly. Almost too friendly. That's about it.

.

And...................I've already managed to make this post rather long. Check back in a day or two for a post about my

TRIPLET SIBLINGS.

.

Thanks for reading.