Georgia - gigi
So Amy sent me her bio and it made me laugh.. She can tell a great story.. I mentioned to her that she could write mine while she was in the writing mood.. So she did.. I laughed, I cried.. But most of all it touched me to the core..
My first memory of my sister isn't so much a memory of her. It's of our bed. In fact, a good chunk of my memories of Gigi involves our beds. Our first bed still feels as if it's the biggest bed I've ever known. But then again- I was very small. It had a polyester comforter with big flowers of pink and purple. I suppose we were going for that early 70's look. Mission accomplished.
Things that occurred in this era include my belief that Gigi taught me how to read. I remember her copies of Little Women and a book of classic fairy tales.
We had a knack for painting things that we weren't supposed to paint. Mainly walls. Little vandals.
Once I became quite cross and threw Gigi's mood ring into the yard...it's still lost. I was going through a dick phase. All kids do!
She had a killer T-shirt with a peace sign on it.
The halcyon days of young life in a sleepy beach town came to a rather harsh end and brings us to our next bed.
Jasper, Arkansas aka What were our parents thinking?
The bed was just a mattress on the floor of the attic. At some point our parents realized that they were possibly guilty of willful neglect and as a result every bed in the house wound up in the living room in order for the family to stay warm during that cold mournful winter. Our brothers ( they were going through their asshole phase) and uncle occupied bunk beds on the far wall. The uncle in question talked in his sleep and emitted noxious fumes at an alarming rate...Gigi and I slept in twin beds that were pushed together at the end of our parent's bed. Just to reinforce the hillbilly stereotype, we had a multitude of dogs. As a result I learned about three dog nights that winter.
A memory: I wandered into the meadow and frantically screamed and cried. Gigi was sent to fetch me. She fell and broke her finger. She had a cast and a wasp got inside it and had stung Gigi multiple times. And Gigi still loved me.
Our parents regained their senses and we promptly returned to Florida. Jasper was no Utopia! We shared yet another room. We were given homemade twin beds that had once belonged to the Parker boys. They were painted red, white and blue. In retrospect I wish our parents had forked over a little cash for new mattresses. I mean, teenage boys...
Being my elder, Gigi was in charge of decorating the room. Mint green and white. Along with posters of Cheap Trick (the charisma of Robin Zander) and Styx. Her Bay City Rollers phase had promptly ended once we had returned south of the Mason-Dixon line. We slept with the radio on. Mostly what is now classic rock. K-102 and WSHE She's only rock and roll! My love of Led Zeppelin developed in those days. However, hearing either Don't Fear the Reaper or Nights in White Satin at three in the morning scared the BeJesus out of me. But I digress. I will say that I am grateful that she did choose lighter colors for the bedroom.
I remember Gigi learned how to make crêpes. They were delicious!
As soon as Gigi was able to go to work, Gigi became employed. She's been nonstop at that. Our parents work ethics were engrained. I'm in awe.
We tired of the homemade beds with the scrotty mattresses and acquired a water bed( this is the last bed story). Gigi slept on the side by the window. In the early hours of December 26,1982 I was awoken by a strange noise and Gigi rolling over on top of me. Turned out that some drunk peckerwood crashed through our big wooden fence (oddly this wasn't the only time someone crashed through our fence). Gigi being Gigi- her instinct was to cover her little sister. Always my protector.
In less than a year we had separate bedrooms. The story doesn't end there.
You see, Gigi did something both courageous and brave. She became a mother. Something taboo by 1983 standards. She became a mother and three months later she graduated from highschool...you get the picture.
Lots of stuff happened...we still had separate bedrooms.
Gigi married a man to whom our flatulent uncle introduced her. She moved to Georgia. That made me sad...and alone. It's okay! While she was married, I read books!
Gigi moved back to Florida for a spell. For some reason she brought her husband with. Alas, I admit, I wanted Gigi to myself. More jewelry to toss...bones to break. I dunno. I only had her to myself for twelve years. Come on!
Her kid was funny. So he was allowed to hang around.
Then she moved back to Georgia. This time I got wise and followed her. We had about 15 years there. I spent my last birthday in Georgia with Gigi.
Gigi has loved and loved. There's a song in the musical Hamilton entitled Wait For It. Three lines ring true in regards to Gigi:
Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes
Life doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes
Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes
To understand Gigi, look no further than this blog. Her photos tell her story. Her faith in her faith is made clear and it's admirable. Every day she's bold enough to share her life with the world. She tells her story...
Gigi is her father's daughter. Dad unwittingly wrote both his and Gigi's epitaph. "I tried."
Oh...and she loves Doctor Who, the Tennant years. She has good taste.
My first memory of my sister isn't so much a memory of her. It's of our bed. In fact, a good chunk of my memories of Gigi involves our beds. Our first bed still feels as if it's the biggest bed I've ever known. But then again- I was very small. It had a polyester comforter with big flowers of pink and purple. I suppose we were going for that early 70's look. Mission accomplished.
Things that occurred in this era include my belief that Gigi taught me how to read. I remember her copies of Little Women and a book of classic fairy tales.
We had a knack for painting things that we weren't supposed to paint. Mainly walls. Little vandals.
Once I became quite cross and threw Gigi's mood ring into the yard...it's still lost. I was going through a dick phase. All kids do!
She had a killer T-shirt with a peace sign on it.
The halcyon days of young life in a sleepy beach town came to a rather harsh end and brings us to our next bed.
Jasper, Arkansas aka What were our parents thinking?
The bed was just a mattress on the floor of the attic. At some point our parents realized that they were possibly guilty of willful neglect and as a result every bed in the house wound up in the living room in order for the family to stay warm during that cold mournful winter. Our brothers ( they were going through their asshole phase) and uncle occupied bunk beds on the far wall. The uncle in question talked in his sleep and emitted noxious fumes at an alarming rate...Gigi and I slept in twin beds that were pushed together at the end of our parent's bed. Just to reinforce the hillbilly stereotype, we had a multitude of dogs. As a result I learned about three dog nights that winter.
A memory: I wandered into the meadow and frantically screamed and cried. Gigi was sent to fetch me. She fell and broke her finger. She had a cast and a wasp got inside it and had stung Gigi multiple times. And Gigi still loved me.
Our parents regained their senses and we promptly returned to Florida. Jasper was no Utopia! We shared yet another room. We were given homemade twin beds that had once belonged to the Parker boys. They were painted red, white and blue. In retrospect I wish our parents had forked over a little cash for new mattresses. I mean, teenage boys...
Being my elder, Gigi was in charge of decorating the room. Mint green and white. Along with posters of Cheap Trick (the charisma of Robin Zander) and Styx. Her Bay City Rollers phase had promptly ended once we had returned south of the Mason-Dixon line. We slept with the radio on. Mostly what is now classic rock. K-102 and WSHE She's only rock and roll! My love of Led Zeppelin developed in those days. However, hearing either Don't Fear the Reaper or Nights in White Satin at three in the morning scared the BeJesus out of me. But I digress. I will say that I am grateful that she did choose lighter colors for the bedroom.
I remember Gigi learned how to make crêpes. They were delicious!
As soon as Gigi was able to go to work, Gigi became employed. She's been nonstop at that. Our parents work ethics were engrained. I'm in awe.
We tired of the homemade beds with the scrotty mattresses and acquired a water bed( this is the last bed story). Gigi slept on the side by the window. In the early hours of December 26,1982 I was awoken by a strange noise and Gigi rolling over on top of me. Turned out that some drunk peckerwood crashed through our big wooden fence (oddly this wasn't the only time someone crashed through our fence). Gigi being Gigi- her instinct was to cover her little sister. Always my protector.
In less than a year we had separate bedrooms. The story doesn't end there.
You see, Gigi did something both courageous and brave. She became a mother. Something taboo by 1983 standards. She became a mother and three months later she graduated from highschool...you get the picture.
Lots of stuff happened...we still had separate bedrooms.
Gigi married a man to whom our flatulent uncle introduced her. She moved to Georgia. That made me sad...and alone. It's okay! While she was married, I read books!
Gigi moved back to Florida for a spell. For some reason she brought her husband with. Alas, I admit, I wanted Gigi to myself. More jewelry to toss...bones to break. I dunno. I only had her to myself for twelve years. Come on!
Her kid was funny. So he was allowed to hang around.
Then she moved back to Georgia. This time I got wise and followed her. We had about 15 years there. I spent my last birthday in Georgia with Gigi.
Gigi has loved and loved. There's a song in the musical Hamilton entitled Wait For It. Three lines ring true in regards to Gigi:
Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes
Life doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes
Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes
To understand Gigi, look no further than this blog. Her photos tell her story. Her faith in her faith is made clear and it's admirable. Every day she's bold enough to share her life with the world. She tells her story...
Gigi is her father's daughter. Dad unwittingly wrote both his and Gigi's epitaph. "I tried."
Oh...and she loves Doctor Who, the Tennant years. She has good taste.