So, I had an official copy of my birth certificate mailed in so that I can get a job in the dining hall, and looking it over, I discover that my father, who grew up in Pittsburg, and whose family almost all still lives in teh same general area of New York (state), was born... in Washington.
I did not ever know that in the least. Next time I talk with family, this is coming up. It ranks almost as high as the Saga of the Lost-and-Found 30-Year-Old Cousin from last year, and the discovery that my maternal grandmother had, on more than one occasion kicked my dad out of her house for perfectly unreasonable reasons. Once while I was in the house, and I didn't even know.
(I'm kinda looking forward to the next story at this point, actually, because none have yet been in the present tense. Some stuff with the maternal granmum got close, but it was all told about a week after she died. Except for the cousin bit.)
I did not ever know that in the least. Next time I talk with family, this is coming up. It ranks almost as high as the Saga of the Lost-and-Found 30-Year-Old Cousin from last year, and the discovery that my maternal grandmother had, on more than one occasion kicked my dad out of her house for perfectly unreasonable reasons. Once while I was in the house, and I didn't even know.
(I'm kinda looking forward to the next story at this point, actually, because none have yet been in the present tense. Some stuff with the maternal granmum got close, but it was all told about a week after she died. Except for the cousin bit.)