Monday, February 4, 2013

We All Retell the Same Story, Just on Different Days

I'm guilty of telling the same story over and over again. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that its hereditary. You even mention Andre the Giant to my dad and he will retell the same story I've heard all of my life. It involves Andre the Giant, a strip club shaped like a pirate ship, and body odor.

There are stories I've heard 1,000 times, but each story is unique to one person. Thanks to my dad's story I always think of him when I watch the Princess Bride, picturing Andre the Giant in a seedy bar instead of rescuing Princess Buttercup. 

My memories are linked together on a series of anecdotes, with tiny things setting them off. That's why everytime I open my fridge I can hear my grandpa yelling Get out of my fridge and trying to convince us all that he was big and scary, when really he is just loud. Another thing that runs in my family.

Anecdotes aren't the only thing that trigger things. Sometimes I'll eat vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup, just so I can remember what it was like to be a bored little girl at my little grandma's house, watching Unsolved Mysteries and secretly plotting how I would get more ice cream. She used to buy those ice cream cones with the names on them, even though they have not to this day updated them to fit modern culture, so while I licked my ice cream I was Martha or Jane or even Bob. Seriously ice cream cone people, update those already. Suggestions: Alana, Ava, Witten, Jennifer. Just a thought. When I think of taxidermy (which is a random enough subject) I always picture the creepy stuffed squirrel lamp my grandpa had (and probably still has). I'm still fairly sure that it came alive at night and went out foraging for nuts.

We're all lucky to hear our parent's and grandparent's stories. We're lucky to get to be a part of their lives, even if they aren't around forever. I'll still think of my dad when I watch the Princess Bride, or smell WD-40, even long after he is gone. Because everyone I know has made an impression on me throughout my life, whether they know it or not. Everyone I know has retold a story to me at least once, so that now my brain and heart automatically associate those things with that person, and sometimes out of the blue I'll be reminded of them. Sometimes I wonder if little things make people think of me, and if that thought is a good one or not. I hope they're all good things, because I'm sure my tales of how cute my kids are or Look at that thing over there I totally tripped on it one time! get old after awhile. Repetitious stories are a side effect of hanging out with me, you can learn to accept it or you can just pretend to listen.

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