Marcia took Us to see

at the Genesis Valley Playhouse. My elder sisters had been raised to believe Dot, our non-biological grandmother, was a bit of a party girl. If you look in her eyes at some of the photos of her golden years, one sees a considerably different demeanour than that of my paternal grandmother.

I was a mamma's boy. Always have been. Always will be. Perhaps that's why i've never been able to protect my women.

OUR favourite Bond film.

Marcia was present for her daughters's upbringing. Her boys...not so much. Brad never won an award for feminism. He firmly believed that latchkey kids would be the best way to deliver a child into Satan's arms. I've spoken to many latchkey kids, and they never saw the problem. I didn't see, and still can't see now, why Brad couldn't have been preparing my after school snack the way Ethel did for him. My dad seemed trapped into thinking that his upbringing was the perfect one, and if We didn't enjoy the same.... His upbringing in my era was a White suburban country club hell, full of over privileged kids, ludicrous competition and children like me who were mostly focused on how much they could spend per month on their parent's credit cards.

Dot's apartment was within walking distance of our home. I would often ride my bicycle there. One time, Doug & i were playing in an aqueduct, newly constructed, climbing in and out of the lower tunnel. The secluded area was between the complex and Chase-Pitkin. The weather was sunny, and had been fairly dry. All of a sudden, a huge wall of water came rushing out of the upper tunnel, into the open, down the concrete basin, and into the mouth of the lower tunnel where we were mucking around. We scrambled to get out before the water washed us into the depths.

I had a paper route in Dot's apartment complex, and after We finished our route I would often stop by her modest apartment on East Avenue for milk & cookies. When she was about a decade older than i am now, she would non-chalantly change her clothes in front of me. Neither sides of Our family tree taught Us to be ashamed of our bodies. I recall she had these humongous boobs strapped up inside an even larger brassière.

Dot, to me albeit not to my sisters, was Blanche Dubois. The years had faded. She'd had her party time. Now she was negotiating the thrills of a son-in-law who could be a massive prick when all that was required was a bit of empathy. One day, she needed to get somewhere. I'm uncertain of the details, but Brad insisted she could take RTS, and Marcia was too tired to fight. Dot ended up walking out onto East Avenue, flagging cars down to get a ride somewhere. A few years later, her grandson would be standing next to interstates with his thumb out. In my case, no one ever called the cops. Having one's suburban grandma waving cars down because your son-in-law is a prick was grounds for a mental health evaluation, then & now.

One time, Doug & I were left to be tended by Dot while our parents went out of town. Jeremy had escaped, and we were in pursuit. Dot was driving the gigantic Chrysler at a rate of speed and in a manner that would make Jason Bourne blush. Doug and I were having the time of our lives. Dot came from an era predating seatbelts, and if she knew there were seatbelts in that Chrsyler, she would not have cared. If we'd managed to keep our mouth shut after our parents had returned, we might have enjoyed more of those rides. Instead,

Dot got further shunted aside.

Auntie Laura was my mother's 3rd mother. Brad and my sisters seemed to take an inordinate amount of pleasure in reciting her saintliness and Dot's sinful journeys to NYC for debauchery and lasciviousness.

Elizabeth Ann Martin b 09 Sep 1924 • Rochester, Monroe, New York, United States d 07 May 2012
1st cousin 1x removed
Anna Laura Fox b 20 Aug 1892 • Ellicottville, Cattaraugus, New York, United States d 20 Jan 1986
former spouse of granduncle

Auntie Laura and Dot's older brother had divorced. She'd remarried and lived on the other side of Rochester with her new husband, far enough a way to not be a nusiance to Dot, and near enough for Marcia and my sisters to visit regularly. I vividly recall being there with Mom and my sisters.

Brad often recited

That didn't help him deceive less.