June 30

I have to start this story with love - love to my mom and my aunts. Now that I have that out of the way I can share the horrors of my childhood. When there were milestones in my Grandpa and Grandma Smith's lives my mom and her sisters would plan entertainment for the party. The entertainment was me and my cousins singing. Those sick twisted women would force us to dress up and sing some God awful song to our poor grandparents. Let me reassure everyone that we were not the Von Trapps. I would compare us to the sound a cat makes while being bathed. 

I remember G&G's 40th wedding anniversary (picture attached) was the last time we got the band together. I apologize on behalf of myself and my cousins to any family members that had to sit through our melodious ditty. I remember that Ryan was there and I thought my cool factor dropped by a solid 100 points. I am proud to say that I never inflicted that suffering and torment on my own children. I do think it may have instilled a love of song though, and I am not ashamed to share my symphonic screeching around a camp fire. 

Occasionally I wake up in a cold sweat worrying about the words to the song I need to sing in public. Obviously a clear case of PTSD. I think the only way to deal with this trauma is to get the band back together for a reunion tour and make our mothers sit through 5 or 6 verses of an archaic church hymn. Better yet, a couple verses of a Jay Z song.