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04:01:2005 Entry: "Ann : For the April Fools"
For the April Fools
Back in the summer of 1978 when I was 17, I went on a vacation in the Colorado Rockies with my parents. I always hated these kinds of trips because we always seemed at the mercy of my dad...he was the one with the itinerary, he was the one with the pocketbook who paid for the scary motels. This time, my body just rebelled. I remember looking for rocks around some old mine area near Creede (I think), and starting to feel a bit sick. I think my mom blamed my getting sick on my own self...I forgot why she was blaming me for getting sick, but I fail to see how it was my fault. I got worse throughout the day, but I don't remember what happened. All I know is that we made it to Gunnison in a strip-down modern motel with kitchennette so that my mom could cook horrible food for the very, very sick me because I was obviously in no condition to go to restaurants. This is around the time the then pope died, and of course, Mr. Catholic just HAD to watch all the dead pope rituals and stuff, and his wife just had to go along with him because that's before she followed in her daughter's footsteps and rebelled against it. I, of course, had been rebelling probably from toddler-hood, the first time my dad ever took me to the University of Notre Dame and I got my first glimpses of flocks of human-sized penguins strolling along the campus, not to mention when I was around six and I had tried to kill my guardian angel, not to mention all the incidences during adolescence of feigned illness on Sunday morning so that I could just stay home and be a kid for a change. But I was really, really, really sick, throwing up constantly, not to mention a dreadfully sore throat. All I wanted was comfort TV, some old sitcom rerun, something soothing and lighthearted. I was really sick, dammit (later, back in Ft. Hell, I had to be treated with antiobiotics, even though the doctor claimed it wasn't strep). But no, we HAD to watch the dead pope crap. All that chanting noise was interacting with my already-hyperactive fever dream mechanism. If there was a hell, that's where I was... in a dimly lit cheap room-by-the-week kitchenette motel in Gunnison, Colorado with my parents, a gazillion cardinals and a dead pope. I think I'll party this weekend. And maybe a little comfort cable TV-watching for good measure.
2 Comments
Maybe we should watch Ken Russle movies?
Posted by Stan @ 04:01:2005:08:38 PM CST
Mmmm...no...too lavish and gothic. We need the antithesis of Vaticanismish. I think road movies would be good.
Posted by Ann @ 04:01:2005:08:41 PM CST
By Ann @ 01:49 PM CST:04:01:05 ..::Link::..
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