My grandpa is an asshole. Not that he's not great to be with; his lack of tolerance is comical in this day and age, and I love talking to him about genealogy and the sort. never-the-less... He is the class of old-school that has stayed in the most rural of areas in the U.S., thinks thoughts modern thought thinks terrible, and denies the history that was of his time, a.k.a. the Holocaust. He hasn't been to church in at least thirty years, drinks, curses, sleeps, and probably considers hell somewhat of an improvement.
there is no way that his faults have been forgotten by the many people he's hurt, in fact I think that the number of people he's made cry sums to a considerable amount in God's eye. At least enough for God to see some flashing light, and to mark Grandpa in his black book. Et ici est ou j'ai peur.
I am of my grandpa's blood and according to Sophocles that makes me responsible for my grandfather's demerit. the past doesn't forget!!! I would like it to so that i don't have to automatically become struck with a fatality of his degree.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment