In this user-friendly blog, I hope to write a somewhat comprehensive memoir of my life. As of now, I am 20-years-old. Yessir, I've been alive here on the rocky Earth longer than humanity's greatest invention and a milestone in manufactured plastics: the iPod. In the September of my years, I peer fondly beyond the faded yet vivid curtain of time, into the grainy film of yesteryear, the dusty golden stacks of photos and expired documents, to reconcile a profound truth and hand it out facsimiled like a free, knock-off Livestrong (TM) bracelet. Yes, before I grow old, before I kick the ever-loving bucket, I shall detail at length the follies, misadventures, and heroic adventures contained within the dog-eared years/months of my life. Alright, enough of this queer, yellow dancing about the rotten truth of the matter: I am a bored college student in search of an artistic path of least resistance. At first glance, it appears to be pretty simple to write a memoir, especially when you've only had a working memory for, like, 15 years. Yessir, I'll be recalling fantastical yet everyday tales from within a span of fifteen bloody years. Are you not excited? You shouldn't be. Starbuck's Cold-Brewed Iced Coffee seems to be the only potion which gives me the energy and creative juices (they are referring to drugs) required to write even a medium-length paragraph. In other words: I'll never finish this mem-wa.
To start, I'll talk (hopefully not too long) about the gene pool I emerged from, or, the two families I was born into and descend from. What I said in the parentheses refers to the fact that my most recent hobby has been genealogy and I can't seem to kick it. I could reminisce about people who I'm not even sure existed and whom I've certainly never met enough to fill a Harry Potter-sized book. This would be foolish. This book, uhm, this blog is about ME, and that's how it will be. However, I love family histories and character studies, and I think others might too, so I will talk about a few of my family members in detail as well.
I descend, yes, I descend from the Geist and Wilson families. Let's start with the soggy Geists.
GEIST FAMILY TALES
My grandfather's name was Robert "Bob" Gill Geist, and he was born in rural Baltimore in 1922. He was the only child of a sales manager at Colgate-Palmolive & Peet Co.--where they sold soap--and a nurse, who died fairly young of a brain tumor. Today, you can find Colgate toothpaste and Palmolive dish soap at any grocery store, but I'm not sure which bumbelark, hokey-pokey jungle you'd have to wander into to find Peet. Robert's family was enormous and consisted of country folk. As a matter of fact, his parents were cousins! A-hem.
Robert Geist was a perfectionist. He folded his towels neatly as a maid at an expensive resort, packed his tobacco pipe like a surgeon, and watched TV like a wall (a more quiet wall). He was always thinking, planning, or ruminating. He even thought out loud, and read the mail and newspaper out loud. It makes sense that he was a systems analyst. No system big or small seemed to go un-analyzed by Bob. He worked for Esso (now Exxon) for over 30 years. For this grand achievement, you receive a medium-sized grandfather clock.
But, before Bob ever dreamt of analyzing systems at Esso, Uncle Sam sent him to war.
Bob was shipped over seas during WWII and served at a marine base on Guam. The island was hot, and the war was on. Bob completed his training through the bugs and tropical sun. He would never see combat, however, after a car accident sent him straight back home. One day, while riding on the back of a truck with two other soldiers, a truck coming down the dirt road the opposite direction lost control and clipped theirs. In what was a fairly violent crash, one of the men on the back of the truck got the bones in his pelvis "mashed up" and another soldier, closest to Bob, was killed. Bob lived to tell the tale (or not), despite receiving significant injuries to his arm and leg. His uniform, complete with its patches and medals, remains intact to this day.
When Bob came home, he (presumably) sat around for a while. But when the war ended, the party was on. It was during and because of these probably wild and crazy post-war parties that Bob met my grandmother.
My grandmother's name was Helen Ann Hill, or as she was called pretty much her entire life, "Bebe". This referred to her status as the baby of the family. She was born in 1925 in Westfield, NJ to a terminally quiet and anxious mathematician and a mother described as "cold steel". She had 4 siblings: Norma, Charles, Elizabeth, and Tuey (Stanley).
Norma was confident, successful, and lively in the social setting. I met and visited her a few times before she passed away in 2006. She was 93 years old and had lived a very (very) long and full life. She referred to things as "beautiful" and fell asleep when anyone brushed her hair.
Charles was an organist and served during WWII on a base in Texas. He didn't like it very much. We have many pictures of him, as he was close with Bebe. He lived with his partner, Jack, until his death in 1999. Jack is 98 and still alive in Delaware. I've debated with myself about whether or not it would be weird to go and meet him.
Elizabeth was quite close to Bebe as the younger yet still older sister in the family. Sadly, she died from complications with asthma at age 25. (I realize this has become a list of obituaries, bear with me).
Tuey was an interesting character. He apparently inherited a great deal of worry and anxiety from his father, and it did not seem to help that he was caught by surprise by the Germans in the historic Battle of the Bulge during WWII. As his son Jeffrey would recount, Tuey had incessant road rage, xenophobia, and feverish nightmares, often precipitated by planes flying over the house. He died of a heart attack at age 44.
Bebe (later, "Gamma") was a shy young woman. She came from a shy family, but was overshadowed by her older and slightly-less-shy siblings. But being the Bebe/Baby garnered her some attention. When she got to college, she resolved to become apart of the social world and be someone completely different than the shy Bebe of childhood age. With her Bebe shell shed, she left college at the end of WWII and got a-groovin' and a-shakin'. She met Bob, and they decided to create a new generation called "the Baby Boomers". These being five kids: Larry, Mary Lou, Sue, Amy, and Steven.
John Lawrence (Uncle Larry) was the oldest child, hence why I listed him first (just so you understand). He was tall, and from video evidence it can be determined that he was a silly and creative young boy. His early childhood was essentially Leave It To Beaver. What I mean is, he was the quintessential 1950's boy, and subsequently the quintessential 1960s teenager (he had the long hair, at least). He married his college girlfriend Kathleen, who is a teacher. They travel the corners of the globe together. Today, Larry is the fireworks technician at Fourth of July parties and a master of one-liners and fruit salad. Also notable are his holiday gifts, wrapped in cartoons cut from newspapers.
Mary Lou (Aunt Mearnie) was the second child. I know I did that joke already, but really, that's the only thing I know regarding her childhood, except maybe that she can be found in photo albums wearing very 1960's outfits as a teenager. She married Mark, my Tennessee-born Uncle, who is famous in our town for his beautiful garden, and famous in our family for having the loudest laugh. Today, Mearnie is the de facto matriarch + Supreme Leader of the Geist family, and we are better for it. She is also pretty funny and always kind.
Suzanne (Aunt Sue) was the second daughter of the Geist family. Sue and Mary Lou were 1960's sisters who listened to folk rock and did other things. Sue was a kind soul who started a pre-K school called Footsteps Academy with some friends, which I attended. I always remember begging to play on her computer there, which had some sort of penguin game that I was obsessed with. She married Joe, a nature enthusiast and maker of maps. Joe was a talented musician and generous Uncle, and taught me a lot of what I know about playing guitar.
(skipping my mom for a moment)
Steven (Uncle Steve) was the fifth and final child of the Geist family. He was a rambunctious and energetic child who frolicked about with the family's ferocious dog, "Pup". His teen years were rocky and fraught with misfortune. He acquired insecurity and devastating shyness and withdrew from teenage life. A particular low-point was when he was injured in an accidental explosion involving a homemade pipe bomb. The other kid involved had his fingers blown off, some of which landed on someone's roof. He was chair-ridden for a while, but Bebe made sure his friends came by through creating a fun and safe atmosphere. He married Donna, and had one daughter, Caitlyn. I hung out with these folks a whole lot as a young child. Aunt Donna always let us have fun, including when we went to Dutch Wonderland every year. Caitlyn was my partner-in-crime, as we were the closest in age out of our cousins. In Bebe's basement, we would take turns sitting on a rolling Ottoman, holding on to a long rubber tube, and being hurled around on the cement floor as the other ran around in circles. This was fun until someone yelled at us.
MAMA
Amy (Mom) was the fourth child of the Geist family. Extremely shy, she could not speak in front of the class at school, and did not really branch out socially until high school. Some of her formative experiences include seeing a classmate vomit purple and white onto a teacher's desk, having her favorite neighborhood dog get run over and killed, getting bit in the face by Pup the Dog, getting bit by yet another dog (this time a German Shepherd and coincidentally her least favorite neighborhood dog), and being told sternly by Debbie Reynolds to "speak up". It wasn't all bad though: she learned to straighten her hair in high school, and as a result fostered friendships with her classmates. Around this time, she met her first husband, Mike.
Michael Scott Matzik the First was a man from a Slovak and English family of much eccentricity. He was tall, sported a mustache and a ponytail, and liked Led Zeppelin. My mom, who had come from a shy, mostly normal, and patently non-ethnic household, had to assimilate into what was basically another culture, one that involved strange foods, language, and even rituals. Mike's mother, "Mom-Mom" was a prolific cook with a loud voice, commanding personality, and colorful vocabulary. (It has always tickled me, the idea of the fabled Mom-Mom sitting and talking with Bebe, our mild-mannered Gamma, who longed for a movie or TV show where no one ever got sad, said a curse word, or was mean to someone else). Amy and Mike married in 1980, when my mom was 19 and fresh out of high school. Their first child, Dawn Nicole Matzik, was born with heart problems, and died at one month of age at CHOP in Philadelphia. Today, Dawn would be 35 years old, a concept which is constantly mind-boggling to me. These trying and tragic moments were a catalyst in my mom's faith as a Christian, and would not stop the couple from having two more happy, dopey kids.
In 1985, they had Beth Ann. She looked Asian when she was born, and almost entirely Matzik as she grew older. She had a strong personality and was, as I'm told, spoiled as a young girl. We'll talk more about Beth when we get to my stinkin' life.
In 1988, they had Michael Scott II, the pride and joy of the First and elder Michael. He was a dopey boy with a blonde bowl-cut, whose job, it seemed, was to be pummeled or otherwise messed with by Beth on a daily basis. His demeanor as a child is the subject of much laughter in our family. He always seemed to be pleading desperately with someone to believe and understand his point of view, one which no one could ever get close to believing or understanding.
Unfortunately, problems arose in the lives and marriage of Amy and Mike. Once the joy of Michael II being born faded, Mike I grew increasingly impatient with Amy and was not very agreeable in domestic life. Amy left several times, but was ultimately successfully pleaded with to return. However, one fateful argument over the correct way to make tomato sauce drove Amy over the edge, and she decided it was time to leave. She left Mike I sometime around 1990, filed for divorce, and was granted custody of Beth and Mike. The three moved into Amy's parents house, and there they would stay until Mr. Zip of Old came 'round.
Great memories. I just love these memories.
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