Regarding your latest email

I love my parents and related old-ish people. I do! I love that they're all, to a person, compelled to forward any email they receive that might be viewed as cute, funny, important, or all three. But then they get frustrated with me for not replying. If you're of the Greatest Generation and are wondering why I never respond to such emails, here's what it looks like on my end.


From: Fictional great-aunt
To: Alice Bradley
Subject: FW: Fwd: Fwd: Re: FORWARD: Fwd:
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Thought you guys might want to see this. WOW!!

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Join Excite! - http://www.excite.com
The most personalized portal on the Web!

FORWARDED MESSAGE

From: 2319Grandmacutie@aol.com
To: mymailman@aol.com, 193457h@yahoo.com, MyDaughterEileen@hotmail.com, 1sttimeoninternet@optonline.net, Ilovefunnyjokes@yahoo.com, oldyoldensen@hotmail.com, computersfrightenme@nyc.rr.whatever.com, StillHot19u7@aol.com

FUNNY!

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--FWD MESSAGE--

From: StillHot19u7@aol.com
To: asdkuo@hotmail.com, billyjoelis#1@hotmail.com, mythirdcousin@excite.com, guttercleaners@aol.com, windowwashergil1965@aol.com, 2319Grandmacutie@aol.com


TOO IMPORTANT NOT TO READ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



--ORIGINAL MESSAGE--

From: stevetheaccountant@accountantswestchester.com
To: brendan073467@aol.com, webfiwery@hotmail.com, werewolves@hotmail.com, noteventryingtocomeupwitheasyemailaddress@optonline.net, theinternetfrightensme@excite.com, mygranddaughterconvincedmetoopenanelectronicmailaccount@hotmail.com, sexyjanet@hotmail.com

I thought you guys might like a chuckle and also appreciate this important message about the dangers of something. Amazing but true!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This email account should be used for professional communications only. Do not share the information contained within to any other parties without explicit permission of Accountants of Westchester, Inc. Also do not print this because something something trees. The views contained within do not necessarily reflect the opinions or thoughts of Accountants of Westchester, LLC. Or are we Inc.? Whichever. Hug a tree.


--ORIGINAL ORIGINAL MESSAGE--

From: newsoftheday@prodigy.com
To:  stevetheaccountant@accountantswestchester.com

SO funny/dangeorus/sad/true! Did you hear about how

REMAINDER OF EMAIL UNABLE TO DOWNLOAD DUE TO LENGTH

?

To the moon!

My dad visited Henry's class on Wednesday afternoon, to talk about his days as an astronaut.

All right, actually he was an engineer at Grumman Aerospace, where he worked on the design of the lunar module. Among other things. I am unclear as to what he did. Only I know it was impressive!

"You know," I told him, "You could have just said you were an astronaut. They were ready and willing to believe whatever you told them."

"Right," he laughed, and gave me that look. That do you mean it? I think you mean it, Alice, you nut, what kind of values did I teach you look.

"'It's Henry's grandpa, Buzz Aldrin!'"

"Hmm."

Anyway, because Henry's grandpa built something (or designed something, WHATEVER) that made it to the moon, he was as good as an astronaut to these kids. They were in awe. "I like your glasses," one of them said, as soon as he walked in. "You look cool," another kid observed.

My favorite thing about visiting Henry's classroom is that the kids act like you're a celebrity. An adult, in our midst! But--but you're not normally here! Can I get your autograph?

Anyway, my dad told them all about the design of the lunar module, sometimes in more detail than I thought they could comprehend, but damned if they didn't eat it up.

Plus he had a cool model. That our household is going to get, one of these days. My parents have it in their basement. Their basement! That thing deserves a display case.

The kids were scandalized at the fact that the astronauts had to leave detritus on the moon. "That's littering," was the collective murmur. "And someday the moon-people will come to our planet and steal our children in order to get their revenge," I whispered to the back row of kids. (No I didn't.)

One question no one asked: where did the astronauts go to the bathroom? Scott, my mom, and I were all standing in the back, waiting for that one. But alas.

"Could you imagine," I said later, "what would have happened if you had told them that astronauts wear diapers? Chaos! They would have had to end the day early!"

My mom sighed. "I knew I should have asked it. I was going to," she said.

"I would have told them that there was a special porthole built into the shuttle, out of which the astronauts could stick their butts," I said.

My dad just shook his head. It's not easy, being the smartest person in this family.

Reasons I am queasy with excitement: the short version.

1. I am going to Amsterdam.

1a. With Melissa!

1b. And my dad! (Who is not going for free, so no angry letters about WHY ARE OLD MEN WITHOUT BLOGS BEING PAID TO TRAVEL)

2. We are selling our place.

3. We are moving to New Jersey.

4. We will no longer live in Brooklyn. We are doing what we said we wouldn't do.

5. We will live in a house. A nice house. We will live near our friends. We will have a yard and a good school for Henry.

6. But still! We will not live near our other friends! Why do we have to have friends! And also we won't be in Brooklyn!

7. I'm okay. I'm okay. I WILL BE OKAY.

So as you can see: I am not pregnant, nor am I rolling in money from any book deal. Yet.

Happy Birthday, Dad--and Jesus, too!

Just born, with Grandpa.
Originally uploaded by finslippy.

Yesterday was my dad's 70th birthday. I celebrated it by calling and reminding him that he is extremely, extremely old. "HELLO, OLD MAN," I shouted, "IT'S YOUR DAUGHTER. ALICE CATHERINE."
"Eh?" he said, because he is as amused by my little joke as I am. And then I prattled on for a while about how old he is, why is he still working, shouldn't he be in a home now, etc. etc.
Really, he loves it. He wishes he could have a birthday more than once a year, just so he could enjoy my calls berating him for his advanced age.

Here is a picture of my dad with Henry, when Henry was three days old. As you can see, my father is incredibly old, but radiates vitality and joie de vivre. What, you can't see it? Look closely!

In other news, it will soon be the celebration of the birth of Jesus. This is a holiday that we Christians sometimes celebrate by draining our bank accounts. Accordingly, I have lost my mind, and have nothing to write about except WHY HASN'T THE STUFF I ORDERED SHOWN UP YET. In order to spare you this, I am taking a short vacation from Finslippy, and will return in the new year. 2006! I'll be writing this blog from the moon! This is the year, baby!