You Can't Take It with You
My co-worker, Val is into community theater. Since she's in "You Can't Take It With You," I thought I'd go see it to support her. I'm glad I went. It's very funny and I was surprised how good the acting was. I found it very entertaining.
The story is about a crazy family and how the daughter of the family is embarrassed by them. She has to prepare her boyfriend for the encounter before he meets them. He's so in love that he sees them through the eyes of love, so that's not a problem. The problem arises when the boyfriend's parents come for dinner. Imagine wrong day, wrong time, everything going wrong.
The plot line made me think of the dysfunctional family I was born into. I suppose everyone thinks their family is dysfunctional. Actually, I've heard and read of worse families, so I'm not complaining, at all. It made me what I am. It's just that the play made me reminisce.
I was more ashamed, than embarrassed by my family. My father was a drunk. He couldn't hold a job because of that problem. We didn't have a nice home because he fell against, or on, all the furniture, never mind not having the money to buy anything nice. One little girl told me that her mother said that she could play with me, but never to go inside my house, because of my Dad.
So like Alice in "You Can't Take It With You," I had to prepare friends to come over my house, because Daddy may be passed out on the floor, or stagger in. To this day, when I smell booze, it reminds me of my childhood home. I wonder if I smelled boozy.
One important thing, though. As poor a father that my Dad was, I was always secure in his love for me. He named me, you know. He, the agnostic, told me that he didn't want me to believe in anything, or anyone, but myself. Hence, he named me Faith. Here's a picture of Dad with his one, true Faith.
I guess I showed him.