What Possessed Me

Scenes from a life.

    

I don't really know how this happened, but the apartment I grew up in and where my parents still live is in the Habitats section of the New York Times today. When the Times approached my parents, they thought it was a joke - someone was surely punking them, since the entire apartment is held together with duct tape and is far from a showplace. What the place has is charm - and lots and lots of layers of history.

My mother immediately started to obsess about the worn out slipcovers, the questionable plaster situation in the bathroom, the carpet that has been dying a slow death for years.

"Ma, they just want to see how real people live. Just make the bed and do what you normally do."

"I just hope they don't look too closely," my mom fretted.

Then the team from the Times showed up and they couldn't have been nicer. They made my parents feel that the place they dreamed up and lived in and worked on for nearly thirty years is every bit as beautiful as an immaculate Park Avenue apartment. Sometimes it takes an outsider to help you understand that what you have created is special.

This apartment has always been the sixth character in our family play. It has its own idiosyncrasies, its own agenda, its own personal history. It evolves, it grows old. It has shaped us as much as we have shaped it. I am keenly aware of its influence every day in my own love of layers, color, and objects imbued with history and meaning. I want to share this article with you because it says so much about who I am, where I come from, and what I value - and also because MY MOM AND DAD ARE IN THE NEW YORK TIMES FUCK YEAH!

(I know I should be modest, but this is just too fun not to share. I have a feeling you'll forgive me this once for bring a Braggy McBraggerson.)

Photographs by Marilynn Yee for the New York Times.

My life is now complete.

What Skid Row Song Are You? Your Result: Youth Gone Wild   You are a REBEL! Your moto is "im gonna do it my way and screw anyone who gets in my way!" You know those lines "They call you problem child, you walk in endless miles, you spend your life on trail, YOU ARE THE YOUTH GONE WILD!"
I Remember You
Slave To The Grind
What Skid Row Song Are You? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

New rule: From now on, this blog is going to be about Skid Row and its awesomeness.

I don't know about you, but seventh grade was pretty much about listening to Skid Row and trying in vain to impress Sandro Carrara who had absolutely no interest in me because he was chasing effing Sarah what's-her-name, the alpha female of the Polka Dot Posse and the foxiest girl in middle school. I had pretty much blown my chances with Sandro when I had to play a fetus in drama class - a humiliation that haunts me to this day - so I was left to brood with my all-girl metal band Silent Threat and listen to Skid Row songs. There was nothing like the dark, melancholy strains of "I Remember You" to ease the pain of rejection. If Sebastian Bach could rise above his misery, so could I. Also, he was hot.

All of this is a long preamble to what is really going on here. 

Which is:

Are you ready for this?

(I'm going to make the text really, really small to increase the dramatic tension in the play)

THE DRUMMER FROM SKID ROW IS PLAYING AT MY WEDDING.

FUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAHFUCKYEAH.* I love my friend Nicole because SHE HOOKED THAT SHIT UP** and made me really, really happy today. 

*Insert Arsenio-style fist pumping and tone deaf versions of "18 and Life."

**Also, because she is really smart and pretty and nice.

Home

It's a luxury to live a few miles away from home - the place where I was raised and the parents who raised me. This is where I grew up.

It's full of interesting things to read and look at that were collected over many years. There is so much history here.

This was my Greek grandmother's painting. I love it because the woman's left arm seems a little too long.

My parents threw an engagement party for us, introducing new family to old family friends. So many people I love. My mom slaved to make it beautiful - and it was.

Flowers arrived with sweet notes of congratulations.  This bouquet matched the color of the dress I bought about 35 seconds before the party started. Shopping is not my strong suit.

We were not prepared for the outpouring of love. So many hugs and kisses. So many words of advice. My great-grandmother looked on, frozen in time at eighteen when her life was just about to begin.

Good spirits were all around us - including my dad, the apple of my eye. Here he is modeling the panama hat we bought him for his birthday. We need to work on that brim a bit.

And my beloved and beautiful mom, the straw that stirs the drink.

The party was the night before my parents' 49th anniversary.  Auspicious timing. A good omen. I believe in signs.