Chicken Fingers

I love chicken fingers. I really do. But I realized something today as I was driving in traffic. If I eat chicken fingers, then there's a whole bunch of chickens out there that can't check social media, pick their beaks, make play gun gestures, or express themselves with road rage. I’m depriving them of another side of life.

Sorry Gay Driver

On the way to the mall today, I passed a car with a bumper sticker on the window that said, “Sorry Gay Driver.” My first thought was, “What the heck does that mean?!” Was she apologizing for being a gay driver, apologizing for being a bad driver and blaming it on being gay, apologizing and calling me a gay driver at the same time? Or maybe she wasn't apologizing at all! Maybe she was just informing us that she was a sorry...gay...driver, so we needed to watch out. And what does being gay have to do with driving? Does being gay make you drive differently?

My second thought was that it’s interesting how the world has changed. She’s not just unashamed of being gay, but she’s proud of it. Like someone would be proud to be Black or a woman. So much so that she feels the need to advertise it on the window of her car. I don’t feel the need to advertise that I’m straight. I don’t feel proud of that either. It just is what it is. It’s disturbing that it’s become trendy to be gay.

Then again I don’t feel the need to advertise my race or gender either. And my feelings about my race or gender wouldn’t be characterized as pride either. I’d say they’re more contentment. I’m comfortable with who I am.

The Memory Hoarders

CC was trying to relate a story about his son today, and I realized that he was struggling to remember it, because he doesn’t write things down. No matter how many times I’ve suggested he do it, he won’t. He relates the stories to me and expects me to record them. Why? Because I’m a memory hoarder. And I was born from a memory hoarder.

My mother and I attach sentimental value and stories to everything. We remember, because it’s important to remember. If we forget and don’t pass it along, then it’s like it never happened. I heard someone in movie say, “If we forget someone after they die, then it’s like they died twice.”