Remember when your parents told you things about your family tree & you tuned them out because you were way too consumed with making sure that blue rubber rectangle didn’t fall off the back of your Keds? (How stressful was that, children of the 80′s?!)
Now that I’m older & more interested in my own heritage (& not concerned with what people will think of me if I’m not wearing name brand footwear), I sort of pay attention when my father tells me the story about so & so doing this & that. Which actually, gives me a better understanding of my roots.
For starters, my clan came over on the dang Mayflower. They were all, “Eff this injustice! Give me freedom or give me death! Take me to America! I want religious tolerance, a bacon cheeseburger & some plastic shit from Target!” (Not verbatim). That takes some big balls to start a new country, yo.
My grandfather was an inventor of sorts & amongst his large handful of patents was one for the “Stinker Stopper.” It was basically a cushion with a charcoal filter inside of it. So, when you emitted funky gas from your anus, you could sit on it & it would stop your fart stank from permeating other people’s nose holes. Genius! I’m seriously thinking of resurrecting this product & selling it on Etsy. It would go so well right next to my diarrhea card.
My great grandmother was the first woman superintendent of schools in Colorado. Apparently she was one tough cookie & played a significant role in politics back in the day when that was frowned upon. My dad told me that after her girls were grown & out of the house, she loved to travel to Cuba & party. Here she is, cloaked in her brazen attitude, getting ready to board a plane to Alaska.
My grandmother (^her daughter) takes the cake in the charisma department with this little escapade. She was going to secretarial school in Austin, Texas & allegedly scored a date, along with her gorgeous identical twin sister, with the handsome movie star, Jimmy Stewart. With one on each arm, the dapper dude took them out on the town in his fancy car to all the hot spots around. The details are blurry but evidently, my grandmother was a light weight & couldn’t handle her liquor. So, she ended up puking in Jimmy Stewart’s back seat.
No wonder I have a ballsy inclination. It’s clearly surging through my veins (& out of my butt).
About Robin Plemmons
Gah. We’re probably related because (according to my cousin who just did a loooong genealogy study) we have relatives from before the freaking Mayflower. Ha HA! Top THAT. That’s right. Trace yourself to Columbus and we’ll talk.
;)
Also, puking in Jimmy Stewart’s backseat is an AWESOME legacy to leave your grandkids. I would have loved partying with your granny.
Twitter Name: justanothermom
Tracey! We’re probably totally related then. Even if we’re totally not, let’s pretend, k? Then you can say that one of your distant relative’s grandmother’s puked in the back seat of Jimmy Stewart’s fancy car.
Twitter Name: robinplemmons
Consider it done.
Twitter Name: justanothermom
Clearly!
Twitter Name: Anissa Mayhew
Obvs!
Twitter Name: robinplemmons
Yeah. I would like to say something clever but what is there after puking grandmas, charcoal butt pads and Mayflower talk? NOTHING.
Twitter Name: juliaroberts1
You forgot my balls.
Twitter Name: robinplemmons
Charcoal butt pads.. honestly I bet those could sell. After all someone thought of poo-pourri and that sells. How much I don’t know, but I do know my ex’s brother got it for Christmas one year. As for puking in Jimmy Stewarts car… so beyond awesome. Not only will you’re family never forget the story, I’m sure Jimmy never forgot you grandmother. Probably one of the coolest things my great-grandfather did was aid Al Capone and his bookie, by when the police would come into his icecream shop (great place to hid illegal activities, right) he’d buzz this little bell under the counter and it would signal anyone up stairs to get the F out. Although, apparently he had an in with many of the Chicago gangsters back then…
Poo-pourri is ahhhsome! And your great grandfather was a hustler? That’s so amazing.
Twitter Name: robinplemmons
We LOVE the poo-pourri around here. (In fact, I have to limit the kids’ use of it. The 6 year old is far too interested in all things butt related. We could probably use some charcoal butt pads around here!)
Twitter Name: SiobhanWolf
Count me in as another Mayflower gal. In fact, if I ever win the lottery, I’m totally going to endow a scholarship specifically for Jewish Mayflower descendants. Because that’s how I roll. Snootily.
Twitter Name: Amy Moss
Mayflower people representin’. Nice!
Twitter Name: robinplemmons
That is awesome – your family sort of rocks.
Twitter Name: mommygeekology
Part of them do, for sure. Some of them are nut jobs. (Including me?)
Twitter Name: robinplemmons
Your great grandmother looks like a total badass.
I also have family who came over on the Mayflower. I’ve even got the coveted family heirloom that ventured over on it too. A spoon.
Twitter Name: unknwndreamer
You got a spoon?? I didn’t get shit! Lucky.
Twitter Name: robinplemmons
“Eff this injustice! Give me freedom or give me death! Take me to America! I want religious tolerance, a bacon cheeseburger & some plastic shit from Target!”
Dude. That made me get all teary. I love America.
Twitter Name: Faiqa
Land of the free! Home of the bacon lovers!
Twitter Name: robinplemmons
Your great granny’s turban is dope. Do you think it doubled as a “stinker stopper”? We sure could have used a few of those over Christmas at my SIL’s house.
Twitter Name: betadad
on behalf of me & my non Mayflower descendants…Thank You.
Twitter Name: DExtraordinaire
Robin, there should be a warning that women who have recently had C-sections should take care when reading you here. I literally almost busted my poor, sore gut reading this. Delightful. Thank you for brightening my evening. And, what a fantastic writer you are! I’m inspired.
Your great-grandma looks like a bad mofo. I mean that in the awesomest sense possible.
Twitter Name: nicholee
any chance we could resurrect her? I want to be her best friend if she’d let me.