One Standard Of Normal Is Determined From Whence They Came

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While this old gal…

Read through the information sent by that genealogist cousin of hers…a message popped up in messenger…from her brother who lives in Oklahoma…my sister said you were researching your father…he says…I don’t know if you knew this but…I met your dad…before he was your dad…in the summers he played baseball for the Burg team where your mom lived…he was a catcher…one of our cousins…was a pitcher…

I would walk to games with your uncle…and a cousin…and watch them play…your dad…was a great man…friendly…understanding…and nice…so nice to me and your mom’s little brother…I thought you would like to know this…

Yes…oh yes…dear cousin of mine…this old gal…would…like to know this…not sure why it’s important…why it matters…why it makes this old gal…weep…

But if she looks deep down…she’s gotta be honest…time…distance…silence…had planted a seed…about the maybes of this man…maybe he was the town drunk…maybe he was a secret rager…maybe he was…a loser…

The silence now broken…stories emerge and shared…the seed has taken on new life…the maybes taking a shift…his image…more vivid…more real…more…normal…that’s it…normal…that’s what this old gal needs…one parent…to be seemingly normal…

Just a normal guy…doing his best…with the hand he’d been dealt…this normal guy the only other person who would know…really know…the depths of abnormal…those kids of his…have seen…
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And this husband of mine agrees…