that’s what Mr. D could have said growing up. we even have this little book that has like 150 ways to know if you’re and MK or something like that, you know, one of those humorous inside joke sort of books.
Mr. D’s dad is in fact sort of from Ohio. his mom, however, Costa Rican through and through. if you find yourself at a gathering with her and her brothers and sisters you will know what I mean. it’s crazy. and crazy loud. she’s probably the loudest one, though
anyway, his dad was in Costa Rica doing crazy stuff like riding around with an ambulance back in the 70s and met the little spitfire lady who became the mother to my super awesome man. thank goodness, because I think biracial kids are ridiculously hot. that perhaps makes me sound shallow. but seriously, Hitler? Aryan race, my butt. that sounds more like a good way to get some inbred weirdness happening.
I wonder how Gina will feel about me talking about Hitler while introducing her dream?
anyway, the point is that Mr. D was a missionary kid and he grew up in Costa Rica all the way until he moved to the States just before turning 21 and promptly met ME. coincidence? I. think. not.
Home is a complex concept for me, having been born to American missionary parents in deep southern Mexico, and spending my young childhood in then-Communist Eastern Europe. Somewhere along the way, I became a Californian. I married a Californian. My daughter is a fifth-generation Californian. Me, I’m a Californian who’s also a Mexican/American citizen of Polish, Swedish, Finnish, Russian, Slovene, and Italian descent. I live in Florida. I want to college in Upper Michigan, you know, “on the shores of Canada, but on the American side”. And what do I dream of? A home in Northern California, where we could enjoy the hazy, 100 degree days and the cool, coyote-filled nights. Both my husband and I would love to put our roots back down in NorCal where they belong…but of course travel from time to time. We’d love to take our daughter to Europe, where I lived as a girl and were he and I backpacked when we were first married, and then come home to the shady oaks of NorCal. Ah, yes. Now let me turn to wipe the tropical Floridian sweat from my brow and keep on dreaming…
hey, we’d love to live in Cali, too, Gina, though probably SoCal and THAT is dreaming…