Beauty And the Bookworm
“I grew up in a small, conservative town in Easter Oregon and my parents were just not prepared for the changeling that had been left on their doorstep. I didn’t get any of the dramatic “You are not my son!” speeches, I just got the cold shoulder for the next few days. It was okay, but lonely. That all changed when, on my birthday, a woman I’d never met before showed up at my party.
It was my father’s mother. She, I found out, was not actually dead as I’d been told, but was a hard-core biker... lesbian who lived in Portland and called my father once a month to check whether or not he still had a stick up his “pancake of an ass.” She walked into my sparsely attended soiree, looking like John Wayne entering a saloon, and said, “Mason, I’m your grandmother and you’re dad tells me you’re queer. Wanna come and live with me?”
It wasn’t that simple of course, I didn’t move to Portland right away, but, after a few months of silence at home, I fled to Gran’s beefy, open arms.MoreLess
It was my father’s mother. She, I found out, was not actually dead as I’d been told, but was a hard-core biker... lesbian who lived in Portland and called my father once a month to check whether or not he still had a stick up his “pancake of an ass.” She walked into my sparsely attended soiree, looking like John Wayne entering a saloon, and said, “Mason, I’m your grandmother and you’re dad tells me you’re queer. Wanna come and live with me?”
It wasn’t that simple of course, I didn’t move to Portland right away, but, after a few months of silence at home, I fled to Gran’s beefy, open arms.MoreLess
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