A letter To My Cousin On A Mission

circa 2008

My favorite band you turned me onto has to be Say Hi To Your Mom.  I’m listening to it right now.  It makes me wish I could bundle up and walk around Manhattan all day long listening to them and watching people on the subways and looking up at the cloudy sky hoping to see Conan O’brien and thinking about Seattle and the time we drove to that restautant The Boat House to see David and we got lost, that was when I first heard Say Hi to Your Mom and we passed Wallingford and we both said it in a British accent at the same time and you told me that it actually wasn’t much of a coincidence because it’s natural to say wallingford in a British way and filming stupid video’s with you and Eli (the star of the show, remember when he said “It’s the middle of the night yo!”) and walking down the railroad tracks at night with you & Lizzie & hearing crazy sounds in the bushes and kicking aside empty 40 oz bottles of beer and laughing about how crazy you are like the day you were baptized and you were crazy as usual and you harassed the Ice cream man, banging on the side of the truck accusing him of being a “Joanna Witness” and birthday parties at the family fun center and feeling awkward next to the local Escondidans as we pumped a Venti cup of quarters into Mortal Kombat 27 wondering when they wouldn’t be able to take it anymore and stab us, running off with the silver coins and did a baby drown in the fountain? And did a girl live in the school house or was it a family? And remember how your Dad asked Patty how many months pregnant she was?  I didn’t get into Ricks when I first moved up there and applied because I didn’t send my transcripts or something.  Your mom and Megan took me out to breakfast at a bagel place by the old Acapulco fresh one Saturday morning to discuss what I was going to do. The plan was, I was going to go to BCC. Bellevue Community College. I even took some test.  Megan came into the fun center and told me that I got a perfect score on the English part. I could enroll in any English class I wanted.  A few days later I was out in the rain by the bridge next to the parking lot and there was hay all over the ground for some reason because even though the Fun Center was open by then, there was still all kinds of stuff to do to finish with construction and I get a call over the radio from your Dad telling me to come to his office all serious and I go up there and he tells me to have a seat and he tells me I got into Ricks because Bishop Mugleston had a talk with the folks up there.  I went on a couple walks with Mugleston. I always liked him. I remember the first time I met his son Drew he was like twelve and he was always adjusting his hat and we got in the van and went to Marymore Parkor something, Holy Cow you can’t beat the summers in Seattle. He was like “Sister Short, I thought of this invention” and he told your mom what it was and I never in my life met a person who made the most of being twelve years old like he did.  I’ll think about the time we were playing basketball at the church and six-year-old Tucker in the middle of an intense play found a resemblance between me and… “y y you look like the guy from grease.”  You know Tucker’s like a supreme football player?  He plays on both sides of the ball.  He scores touchdowns and after the game at Mcdonald’s people come up to him and say “good game Short.”  When you played baseball you were the only one that swung at anything close, you were like Vlad Guerrero. I remember way back in Mount Carmel days, the summer before my eighth grade, you were six. The summer we planned our trip around the world, that we’d take when we were adults. We went to that park by the elementary school and I climbed up on the dugout with my shirt off and these kids rode by on bicycles and called me Fat Lard.  I remember before my mission Adam was up there in Seattle and we watched Monty Python and the holy grail 140 times and we never stopped quoting it and it even carried over into my letters on my mission for like the first six months.




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