I’ve lived in St. Louis for a total of 10 years now (in two shifts), which is far longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere else. I lived in a town 60 miles south of St. Louis for another five. I lived in Kansas City for the first 9 months or so of my life. But when I graduated college, on the form I filled out there was a spot to list your hometown. I wrote “Kansas City, Mo.” in the blank. I still feel that way.
Part of it’s because I have so much family here. Part of it’s because I was born here. Part of it is because four years ago when I was royally screwed up, I came to Kansas City to straighten myself out.
I rolled into Kansas City last night around 11. So I about an hour last night hanging with my sister. I told some stories about people in St. Louis that she knows. We talked about deep subjects like gray hair and toenail clippings and ways to keep cats from drinking out of the toilet. We ripped on each other for living in the ghetto. It was a blast.
She asked me what time I wanted to get up in the morning. “Four,” I said. She knows darn well that I don’t get up before 8 if I have any say whatsoever in the matter. “Well, you just set your alarm then,” she said.
“I’ll put the alarm clock in your room,” I said. That’s a tactic both of us use. We put the alarm clock in another room so we have to get up to turn it off–the thinking is, once you’re up, you’ll stay up. In practice, what it means is I either ignore it, or I get up, hit snooze, then go back to bed for 10 minutes. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Truth of the matter is, it doesn’t matter what time I set the alarm for. I get up whenever I feel like getting up, and not a minute earlier.
She knows the drill. She does it too.
“No you most certainly will not,” she said.
Brother and sister. If you’re not me or her, you probably don’t understand. But if you have a brother or sister, you have stories or subjects only you understand. So I guess in a roundabout way, by not understanding, you understand completely.