OPEN LETTERS
An Open Letter to My Carnival Worker Brother-in-Law
Dear Dale,
For decades I’ve made fun of your life choices. Your desire to drop out, try meth, live in the back of a semi-truck, and marry a truckstop waitress never made sense to me.
It’s only now, as civilization spirals to a crashing end that sounds much like the gears of the kiddie rollercoaster, that I realize you were right and I was wrong.
Now that I’ve turned my back on the traditional path and joined the #vanlife movement.
It’s not easy for me to confess that I wish I’d followed your path, and said Screw You to society when I was 9. I’ve heard the stories, how the seeds of your genius were planted way back in 4th grade, when you refused to stand up for the Pledge of Allegiance that one day, with your best friend Manheim.
Manheim gave you that look, the one that said, ‘Who’s a retard now?’ and you both remained seated at the back of the class.
The teacher said, ‘Manheim and Dale, get your white trash asses up and put your grimy hands on your hearts!”
The next year, when Manheim moved away, after all the kids in his family were removed from the home, you forged on alone.
