by Sheree Adams

Created on: March 20, 2009

My Family

Have you ever seen an episode of 7th Heaven? The family is so caring, loving, and understanding. There are hardly ever any problems and when there are, it is worked out in a constructive "Dr.Phil would be proud" type of way. Ok, now forget that entire normalcy, because my family is NOTHING like that.

I guess to put it simply, my family is crazy. Not in the minor way that is almost considered normal, no we are the type of insane that the clinic couldn't handle. It's really difficult to start because there is so much to tell. I guess it would be easier to begin by stating that my immediate family is probably the more normal branch of the family tree and even we are a little out there. My mother had kids young, got married, became a widow, and remarried a guy 20 years older than her. She seems pretty average but she does things on compulsion, like when she got a pig tattooed on her rear after a long night of boozing. She listens to Metallica, digs yellow roses , and has a weird obsession with Nancy Drew. My dad was a loose cannon. He had an "everything" problem. He drank, he cursed, and he did drugs, a real rebel that one. He killed himself when he was only 25 years old, which is very sad in a lot of ways, but that just sparked more scandal in our family. Some people thought my mom killed him, she didn't, I was there. Others thought he was in a really big drug smuggling deal and it was all about to go sour and he figured he should get out for good. Some of my great uncles tend to get drunk and swear that an escaped convict ran up and shot him. Then there are a few people who say that he probably didn't even mean to do it, that he just passed out and the gun went off. I tend to believe the latter.

My dad's side of the family is an entirely different kind of crazy than my mother's side. On my dad's side there are mostly drunks who can't handle their liquor and start getting ideas. Like my Uncle Butch, now he wasn't too bright. The story goes that one night he thought it would be fun to get really rowdy and have the cops called to his house then have about a four hour standoff with them. At the end, he started getting a little too wild with his pistol so they had to use force. He got shot in his chest and died instantly. The only thing left of Uncle Butch is a story and a picture of him and his Harley.

My mother's side is more likely to be categorized as the mentally unstable. Aunt Kitty, that's what I've always known her as. I never have met this woman, but

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