Sunday, July 08, 2007
Gag gift. Literally.
Last week I visited my freewheeling Unitarian parents in Minneapolis. Without fail going back to the house where I was born and spent my entire life propels me instantly back to my adolescence: I start raiding the fridge for ice cream, staying up late and talking on the phone, and rummaging through my parents' drawers. I'm not proud of these fiendish adolescent behaviors, I'm just trying to contextualize the photo pictured above. Now, I can safely say that I could have gone my entire life not knowing about this particular knitted garment and been perfectly happy. But no, my childish impulses had to get the best of me, and this is what I find. Luckily my mom is an open sort who gets a huge kick out of my 'hissy fits', and she was delighted to see my reaction of revulsion and disgust. She told me that it was a gag gift that someone had given my dad in the '70s. Gag gift indeed. Well luckily it's never too late for therapy, right?