Recently I went to a family reunion in Garibaldi with close to 50 family and friends. After drinking, eating and significantly drinking more than normal, I found out that I am somebody!
I was attacked!
Let me paint you a picture of the situation as I remember it. First you need to imagine you’re a hyena in Africa and it’s been 5 days since you’ve eaten. Then suddenly that one is joined by a clan of 15 to 20 more starving hyenas because they picked up the scent of blood leading to a wounded zebra. The wounded animal is not only bleeding but somehow it got into a bee’s nest and was now completely covered with a nice honey glaze. To make matters worse he got his foot trapped in a day-old fire pit which had some red-hot coals still glowing. It didn’t take long for the clan to realize he had been stuck for quite a while because he was now lightly smoked to perfection. Realizing they had never had a Honey glazed smoked Zebra before the clan surrounded and pounced on the poor guy like it was their last meal they would ever eat. In this scenario I was that zebra.
National Geographic Magazine?
Long story short, I knew how that Zebra felt as one by one my family began the attack. First my Uncle Lee told the story of “somebody” taking his National Geographic “African Tribes Edition” magazine into the bathroom only to emerge from the restroom 30 minutes later. I tried to explain that I enjoyed reading about native tribes and African culture but even I couldn’t say that with a straight face. In my defense I was 12 and back then National Geographic had the good stuff. Then my brother remembered “somebody” who walked out of the locker room in his underwear. That wasn’t the worst part, since they resembled gym shorts most kids didn’t even notice until I bent over to tie my shoe, unfortunately in front of the whole class. It was at that point a clearly identifiable skid mark was on full display for all the boys and girls to see. I was in 6th grade when that happened, and it took until my freshman year at a new school to not be called “the skid mark kid”. My Dad had to tell a few stories, most of them extremely embarrassing even today. I really didn’t mind one of them as he recounted that “somebody” got caught changing the “F” to a “B” on handwritten report cards. I laughed at that one, it worked for almost 2 years before I got caught.
Got to love your family
It took about 30 minutes until the hyenas finished picking the last bits of any remaining dignity I had. I guess I should appreciate that my loving caring family didn’t say “Greg” instead using “somebody” but they were not fooling anyone with that one. What comes around goes around, it will be someone else’s turn next time and I will have another story to share, even if I must make one up.
Greg Rosen is a Father, Husband, Realtor and humorist writer for several major newspapers. Questions or comments can be sent to [email protected]. If you like what you please share.