For me, growing up was kind of weird.
Let me backtrack a little actually, since my family is kind of weird and here’s why; I am “White-Spanic”. My parents married young (19) and not because they ‘had’ to. My father ran away from home at 15 and went to live with cousins, who lived next to my mother’s family. My mother fell in love with my father at first sight (aww) but there was just one teensy problem. My mother’s family is white. Not just white, but WHITE-white. My father’s family, on the other hand, is Hispanic. Working on cars at 3am, drinking in the front yard, cursing at the top of your lungs in Spanish- Hispanic.
My mother took one look at my father through the window and called her mother over. “You see that boy right there? I’m going to marry him.” (Keep in mind my mother is 15 at the time.) My grandfather sold the house and moved to another suburb within six months. Yet somehow the cultural barriers that family (on both sides mind you) imposed on them were overcome and they ended up together anyway. My grandfather disowned his daughter because of this, by the way.
Ramblings of a Madman... 