The Ghetto Moves Into the Neighborhood.
It would seem that someone has decided to destructively help themselves to some of my father’s collection of stuff on the 608 grounds. My father has a habit of collecting things; wood, nails, bolts and T-birds; that most would call junk. His collections sit everywhere and anywhere he finds a empty space, much to my mother’s chagrin. We all believe he might be a hoarder. He believes he is “fixing” up the old house to his specifications. Mostly its a never ending saga of my father’s fantasy of living in luxury. He is creative but never has the gumption to actually follow through. So it is hard for anyone, let alone my father to determine if anything was stolen.
A couple of weeks ago someone broke into my mother's Lincoln. The Lincoln is largely driven by my father now that my mother has stopped driving. We are all happy that she gave up the driving. It is not that she could not drive but was indeed the scariest on our block who wasn't drunk. But now that she is 80, her driving days are over and the Lincoln sits until my father has some odd need to drive the Lincoln to Home Depot for nails and bolts to attach to his latest project involving wood or T-Birds.
Anyway, someone broke into the Lincoln sitting in the driveway next to my parents bedroom window which is far up the driveway, almost in the backdoor. Whoever did this dastardly deed was bold enough not to be afraid of getting caught or worried enough about anyone inside hearing. They must of known my parents habits. I say this because they broke into the car while my mother was in her REM sleep and my father was sleeping on the couch, I mean, watching television.
My siblings and I all know that it adds up to one person, our favorite drug addict, the Crackhead Preacher. Although my parents will deny that he is the likely culprit, we all know it was him or one of his crackhead friends. He would be the only person who would know my parents habits and be that bold. But my parents always try to see the good in everyone until they messed up so horribly they could not deny their satanist ways. When that happens you will likely be on Mom's shit list until she causally forgets when you buy her off, I mean, make it up to her. Then and only then will you be forgiven and as long as Mom is happy then so is Pop.
So in the mist of this sudden constant break-ins at the house, my father's solution is to put in a security system involving camera's and monitors. Mind you, they are 74 and 80 and technically incapable of using their computer efficiently.
My mother insists that she needs a iPad. Why? Because she wants to video chat to her 5 year old granddaughter who is moving nearby in a week. She had 11 children, 30 something grandchildren and 20 or more great-grandchildren and 1 great-great child. Some of us are far enough away to require an all day trip on plane to get to Sacramento and we don't call often. But she isn't interested in talking to any one else. Just the five year old.
Not that I blame her, that five year old is entertaining. But so is another five year old. He just has a very southern accent and he is more hip-hop and rap than other five year olds. He is very entertaining. But Mom just wants to talk to the one.
We all know really she wants the iPad cause someone (Our Sister of Perpetual Pity is my guesstimate) wants an iPad and the only way to get one is put the idea in my Mom's head. My Mom will convince one of us to get it for her and she will play with it for a two maybe three weeks before O.S.P.P. will get a hold of it.
We are all sure that after three weeks my parents will forget about the security system and never check it or turn it on and move on to the next gadget that my father has to get his hands on. The security system will end up in the attic where all the other gadgets my father cherished processions go when their uselessness becomes apparent. We will find those toys one odd day while looking for our past and stumble on his treasures wondering what in the world they would do with such things.
