Apr. 21st, 2010

trystinn: (libation)
I've always been a bit uncertain as to identity, it seems so fluid to me. I was adopted by my stepfather at 6 months, and so he raised me. When someone asks my cultural identity, I somehow feel I need to preface that. The story I give of my heritage is his family's, because I too, am his family. My mother married two men who look alike, I joke that the APB would net both of them. And so, oddly enough, I look like his family. There is great comfort in that. Most of his family has forgotten I'm not genetically related to them and there's yet to be a reunion where someone hasn't remarked how much I look like my Dad. *WEG* This used to give me apoplexy, now Dad and I just share a sideways glance and grin like Mad Hatters.

My mother's family was Irish and German, the Jewish coming from my grandmother. And so, though we weren't raised with any religion in the home (unless one counts Calvinism, we were very much Calvanists without the trappings of Lutheran on top), my mother has always identified as Jewish and identified her children as Jewish. I am visibly recognizable by other Jews as Jewish, especially when I take off my glasses and show a profile. My glasses have always hid the ridge, once exposed it just seems so obvious to others Jews and a few gentiles, too. Even here on Whidbey Island, women grab my arm and whisper that question that has followed me wherever I go "mishpaka (Family)?" Yes, I am family by whatever definition you prefer.

And so, my dearly dears, are you.
trystinn: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd]

As a child, we lived across from an abandoned school. I can't even say what kind of school it was, because it'd been so many: junior high, high school and technical school. As so many schools on Long Island are, it was surrounded by acres and acres of fields - football, basketball, tennis, soccer, you name it. At night, storms raced across the fields, funneled by ancient oaks and maples. Our house was directly in the path of these storms, so they seemed to hit our home and break open in full fury. We lost quite a few trees over the years, one going down in our neighbor's house.

What I remember though was the thrill of watching that storm race in. And the fear that this time the tree would hit our home. I didn't know then about insurance, didn't know about how those adult things worked. So every time that wind blew, I worried that we'd lose it all. And have to go live with my grandparents in Arizona.

Which wouldn't have been all that bad. With the exceptions of a few dust storms and the annual monsoon, the storms weren't that bad. And there were no trees to speak of. Just lots of flying cacti. :)

Profile

trystinn: (Default)
TrystInn

October 2012

S M T W T F S
 123 456
789 10 111213
1415 16 17 181920
2122 2324252627
28293031   

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 18th, 2025 04:49 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios