hey sistah, go sistah, soul sistah
I work with a girl, Maria, whose sister is a hooker. Now, she's not the street-walkin', crack addicted, wearing underpants as normal attire, approaching cars on 64th and Halsted kinda hooker. She's the posh hotel, plastic surgery addicted, LaPerla wearin', high end escort service, financial district kinda hooker. Maria was quick to point out this distinction. Maria didn't actually tell me this; her blabber mouth sister-in-law did and quite abruptly. Maria blushed and said, "She works for an escort service." She said it as if hoping I was one of the four remaining people on earth who thinks "escort" means just that.
There is always a point in every relationship; co-worker, friend of a friend, new friend, neighbor, anybody, etc. wherein one has to explain certain family members. "How many siblings do you have?" somebody asks while trying to make conversation or determine your birth order so they can justify your bossiness or attention-seeking or rigid moral code. "Ahhh, a middle child...Needs attention."
This one question turns into another and then another and there you are; considering,"Do I tell them or do I leave it vague?"
I have a brother who is, for all intensive purposes, a criminal.
"What does your brother do?"
"He works at a Correctional Facility in Illinois." It's not really a lie. It's not. Really. He does work while he's incarcerated; sometimes it's on his horrible tattoo collection, his pectoral muscles, his letter writing skills or fundraising for his commissary account or legal defense fund.
"...And he's a student." It's true. He does research on how to be a better criminal. His last batch of counterfeit money fooled almost every bartender in town. Almost.
"What does he study?" what else?
"Criminology."
I have another brother who's a wake-n-bake homeless dude. This is trickier. "How is Stephen?"
"Oh, you know Steve....."
"What is he doing these days?"
"Well, you know Steve...He loves to travel..." He does travel...from a friend's couch to another friend's basement floor to another friend's dad's abandoned camper.
"...He also has quite a green thumb; spends a lot of time gardening." He would have had quite a lucrative hydroponic weed enterprise if his friend's trailer home wouldn't have been raided. I guess the blue-tinged light constantly illuminating the double-wide alerted the police.
"Has he always been interested in gardening?"
"Heck, yeah. Since he was a teen." Mom regularly inspected all of her indoor plants for marijuana seedlings. My Dad made routine sweeps of the wooded acre behind our house to remove larger plants.
"Where's he living now?"
"Gosh, you know that Steve, he's hard to keep up with. He had a place near the beach (read: van in parking lot) but he found a place he liked better near the hospital (read: local homeless shelter)."
There is always a point in every relationship; co-worker, friend of a friend, new friend, neighbor, anybody, etc. wherein one has to explain certain family members. "How many siblings do you have?" somebody asks while trying to make conversation or determine your birth order so they can justify your bossiness or attention-seeking or rigid moral code. "Ahhh, a middle child...Needs attention."
This one question turns into another and then another and there you are; considering,"Do I tell them or do I leave it vague?"
I have a brother who is, for all intensive purposes, a criminal.
"What does your brother do?"
"He works at a Correctional Facility in Illinois." It's not really a lie. It's not. Really. He does work while he's incarcerated; sometimes it's on his horrible tattoo collection, his pectoral muscles, his letter writing skills or fundraising for his commissary account or legal defense fund.
"...And he's a student." It's true. He does research on how to be a better criminal. His last batch of counterfeit money fooled almost every bartender in town. Almost.
"What does he study?" what else?
"Criminology."
I have another brother who's a wake-n-bake homeless dude. This is trickier. "How is Stephen?"
"Oh, you know Steve....."
"What is he doing these days?"
"Well, you know Steve...He loves to travel..." He does travel...from a friend's couch to another friend's basement floor to another friend's dad's abandoned camper.
"...He also has quite a green thumb; spends a lot of time gardening." He would have had quite a lucrative hydroponic weed enterprise if his friend's trailer home wouldn't have been raided. I guess the blue-tinged light constantly illuminating the double-wide alerted the police.
"Has he always been interested in gardening?"
"Heck, yeah. Since he was a teen." Mom regularly inspected all of her indoor plants for marijuana seedlings. My Dad made routine sweeps of the wooded acre behind our house to remove larger plants.
"Where's he living now?"
"Gosh, you know that Steve, he's hard to keep up with. He had a place near the beach (read: van in parking lot) but he found a place he liked better near the hospital (read: local homeless shelter)."
posted by katherine at 7:47 PM
1 Comments:
Ahhh, the fine line between caring and nosiness...showing interest and prying. Is it better to know more-or less-about a person or a friend? Do we care or just want to feel smug about our own lives? Are we really listening and trying to get to know each other better or making judgements? Is perception reality? You always make me smile.:)
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