My uncle lives in a trailer. Every summer when I was young, my
family would take trips down to Huntsville to see him. At that age, I
thought he was of higher social status because he enjoyed so much
freedom. My father worked everyday and fished on the weekend, my uncle
fished everyday and did nothing on the weekend. The summer he married
Tonya we visited him twice, first in early July for some fireworks and
again in late August.
On the second trip, Tonya was visibly with child. After a long swim
with her sister and some other trailer girls, I had grown quite
thirsty. Upon approaching my uncle’s door, I noticed my thermos beneath
the stoop where I had accidentally left it a month ago. I was pleased
to find it still half-full of apple juice and sat to take a big swig.
Zow! It was my first taste of alcohol…
Not many years later, I found myself back on that stoop, but with a
different bitter taste in my mouth, I had just received news that
Tonya’s sister was carrying mine.---Recorded at The L@b East, Chicago ILMixed at Acme, Chicago ILMastered at Acme, Chicago ILEngineered by Kris Poulin