I come from a dysfunctional family. Now, I know that people are always saying they have one of these, but it really is not like having a BBQ grill or a car or a swing set in the backyard. A dysfunctional family can be a source of entertainment or the bane of your existence – I guess it kind of depends on how you look at the situation and embrace what you are given. After all, unless you have been adopted they are yours.
One side of my family comes from the South.. If you are from this region or know anyone from this area at all, then you will understand exactly where I am coming from. My mother has always been that woman that is smiling happily and making sure that everyone thinks everything is A-OK from how we look on the outside – Yet on the inside, we are all pretty much train wrecks. Now, I love my Mother and my family but admittedly we can all be quiet charming yet a frantic mess all bundled into one package deal.
My favorite example of this – And NOT my Mother’s I have to say – Is of a certain family member. (I promised my Mom I would not reveal how he was related or his name, so only if you know us and have heard the story will you know who this is.) I may be a turd for revealing a family secret, but I will honor my Mommy’s wishes or be left out of the will.
This particular tale is about a wonderful man in our family that many, many, many years ago decided he had just about enough of the “Man” or the system if you will. He made a conscientious decision to take part in making money the old fashioned way – counterfeiting. Now, you are probably either shaking your head or maybe going, “I get it, I have thought about it, too”. I guarantee for one thing that NO you have not. When I say he decided to counterfeit, I don’t mean paper bills. That would have been too easy. He went metal – Like coins. The man decided to counterfeit coins.
Yes, I had a member of my family decide it would be better to smoke metal than to cut up paper. Of course, I think as I smack my head, that makes sense! No one will ever know – It is not like you can smell molten metal or anything. He ended up in Federal Prison for a spell – but he was out in enough time to help head up the committee for the local county fair. Bless his heart.
Once I thought about all the good you old do with coins you had counterfeited, it all made sense to me – from parking meters to laundry-mats, for wishing wells or to just hand out at a soda machine…Maybe my far-off distant relative was onto something. Or maybe he was really just not thinking.