extended family
All about how to stay connected, strengthen ties and talk politics with your big, happy extended family.
Who where my dad’s
I never really knew my father. My earliest memories (other than what was in the photo albums) of my father were an incident at his mother’s house where she is just screaming and yelling at us (I cannot recall if it was directed at me or not), and Me and dad leaving out the side door. Other than that memory, the only thing I can recall about him was never getting child support on time or at all. Then when I was around thirteen, other than a few brief visits, I went with Dad to a Banning-Carson football game, then spend the night for Christmas. The last thing I remember about that holiday was that I was heavily in to computers and the commodore 64 in particular, and all I wanted for Christmas was a computer drive I needed to use the computer to it’s fullest. He got me a point and click camera. When I got home, my mother and step-dad exchanged it and got me my drive. Other than that, I pretty much do not feel I have a dad.
By Darryl And Heather Sandell4 years ago in Families
Dad humor at its best
People’s core personality traits are revealed during stressful moments, especially during disastrous situations. My dad’s response to our family’s disaster has impacted me and so many others for a lifetime. My dad always had a great sense of humor. The most genuine person with the purest soul, he often was hilariously funny without intending to be. Sometimes, in his naive honesty, he’d say something so horribly awkward the resulting hilarity would be legend. Most of the time he was just blurting out what was on his mind and in his heart. The result was the positivity and lightheartedness of an innocent reaction to any given situation. It was the best part of my dad. Without his wonderful quirky responses to life, I wouldn’t be the person I am. I inherited his optimism and ability to seek out the joy in moments of stress and despair. His unfiltered honesty and unbridled enthusiasm endeared him to all – especially me, who he called his favorite daughter; of course, I’m also his only daughter.
By JD Gallegly4 years ago in Families
Step Dad's Matter!
I was about two years old when my mother married my step father "Spider." He was a long haired, jean jacket, leather and jewelry wearing man who hung with the bikers in Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada. Hailing from the little town of Salmon Arm, British Columbia, his pops "Grand-Father" still owns Walper Lumber to this day. My Dad was covered in home made prison tattoos of lions, spiders, and that planters peanut guy. One time before he died, he let me give him a prison tattoo with turquoise pelican ink, and a tooth brush with a needle stuck in it! I gave him a funky little spider, and a girly print of the name "barb" right on his chest. Even though he and my mom were separated at that point, they still hung out. It was heart warming when I asked him, "are you sure?" To having the name on his chest. He said "Yeah, she is my best friend." Her favourite colour is green, and they would drink together and have coffee and smokes every day.
By Christabella Garcia4 years ago in Families
Anarchy In Slow Motion. Top Story - June 2022.
During some of the most turbulent years of his life, Bart Lynn Howell and his friend, Shane, were siphoning gas out of the tanks of cars on their block with a rubber hose and a gas can. Was this altogether intelligent? Probably not considering these two were not unknown in their tiny hometown of Fort Dodge, Iowa, and they were both high on some substance, and more than a little giddy from swallowing some of the fuel they were trying to steal.
By Ashley McGee4 years ago in Families
In Relation to Strawberries
Dear Brynn Willow, The spring after you were born, while your grandfather prattled wonderland style nonsense to your listening flower of a face, your brother and I planted strawberries. We dug holes, laid a layer of compost, snipped the end of the roots and spread them out. He held the plant upright while I replaced the soil.
By D. Thea Baldrick4 years ago in Families
Fireflies
People whose grandma’s were great cooks, how does it feel to be God's favorite? I can tell you it feels pretty great because my grandma was the best chef I’ve ever known. She passed away four years ago this August and I inherited exactly four things from her. Three crystal champagne flutes, a bag of old silk scarves, her scrabble board game and her recipe box.
By Kymbre Messina4 years ago in Families
The Great Watermelon Debate
Saturday, June 5, 1976 Annual Forza Family Reunion, Cavalier Park “Did anyone bring salt?” As I stepped away from the buffet line, I scanned the picnic tables for a white shaker among the detritus of plates, cups, napkins, and utensils.
By Staci Troilo4 years ago in Families
Kickball and Parfaits
My grandparents’ long, grassy yard was shrouded on three sides by trees and the fourth by their old farmhouse. The yard sloped downwards, which would seem like a flaw to potential homebuyers and land assessors, but in our eyes, it was perfect for endless games of kickball and was esteemed for the additional challenge it brought to the game. Whenever the dozen or so cousins all got together for one single day during every summer that yard became our territory and woe to the unsuspecting adult who walked in the way of flying ball or speeding runner. My parents, brother, and I lived in Texas while the rest of the family lived in Ohio, so the week out of each year we would spend with them was an event, and the family barbeque with all the aunts, uncles, cousins, babies, and scattered boyfriends or girlfriends that would take place was the highlight of the year. It was one single day, one afternoon, one evening, but in that day lay the entirety of summer.
By S.A. Paris 4 years ago in Families
