dough for doritos
March 20, 2024
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Funny, how as kids we felt the need to celebrate it. I even think maybe Grandma Bev would get us tiny gifts for it. She was always gifting us something.
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I wonder where she got her money.
I mean she was a hard worker, a hustler, an active member in her community. She was a music teacher, an amazing pianist and in a sorority. But still. It’s perplexing. Kind of. -
It was something she always wanted me to join, but I never did. Alpha Kappa something. That’s also probably wrong, but does it matter to the story? No. Point was, I never joined.
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I didn’t study medicine like she had hoped. I didn’t do a lot she was hoping for me to do.
At the same time, I think I made her proud. -
I did get her hustle. I also got her drive to travel the world. She went everywhere. Did she go to all those places with Walt? I forget.
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She called him her handsome giant or something to that matter. He was tall AF.
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He was a minister and a very smart man — not for the fact that he chose a path of religious leadership, but because he was super intelligent and held a phd.
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Walt was a very articulate and wise speaker. He was also good with words. He wrote all his sermons.
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Something about his wife dying in a car accident, but before that, years prior, their young child who was playing in the street was hit and killed by a car. How fucking horrible.
If he hadn't already been on a path to find his God, this might have really drove him to it. Was this what drove him to him? -
I remember watching him eat, fascinated at how fast someone could chow down and not choke. The side of his jugular would juggle.
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He always had a video camera in hand. Documenting us. From Easter egg hunts to unwrapping every single impractical gift we’d get from them.
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Grandma Bev loved her catalogs. Again, where did she get her money? She had enough disposable income to dispose on expensive outfits I never wore and a cuckoo clock from a trip to Germany I never hung.
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Where would 14 year old Megan hang a massive wooden cuckoo in her bedroom without seeming cuckoo for coco puffs.
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I do have a vivid memory of receiving an embroidered pillow of cats. It would fit right in at a cat cafe for old fucking ladies selling kaffee und kuchen, but was not my style. At all.
I think it was the first time I set a boundary with her. I let her know I did not like it and rather just have the money instead. I think she felt offended. Her love language was giving gifts after all. -
She helped me with grocery money, when I said I needed to get a job to pay for shit like Dorittos. She said school was my job and upon which, sent me a $100 check in the mail every month along with ransom note-y news clippings she curated and cut just for me.