ANYTHING ABOVE THE NECK IS UNIMPORTANT

As a kid, I always hated having to go to visit my mom’s brothers and sisters. You’d see them once every two years, and then they’d always grab you by the ears and say something like “Last time I saw you, you were only THIS big” or something stupid like that, and then they’d slap you about the neck and face with a shank of raw beef. Except my Uncle Tanous. I couldn’t wait to go see Uncle Tanous, partly because he lived above a strip club, and partly because he always got my older cousins to dress up like harem girls and dance around the dining room when Mom and Dad were playing gin rummy in the basement. “If you ever tell your parents what we do in here, I’ll slice your throat from ear to ear,” he’d whisper to me right before we all climbed back in the El Camino for the long ride home, but by then I didn’t care. I was in love.