“How about them there Giants?,” my Uncle Jim asked me in the living room of my aunt’s home.
Confused, I stated,”I’m not familiar with the Giants.”
“You most be joking, Tim. You know who the Giants are,” he said almost in an apparent outrage.
It hit me…football. I don’t watch football. It is a brutish, violent game and it had no substance whatsoever.
“Oh…football. I don’t watch football Uncle Jim,” I said partly embarrassed,”It’s not really my thing.”
“Not your thing! What do you mean this isn’t your thing?!?!,” he screamed,” How do you think your father, may his soul rest in peace, would feel to now his son is a theater-goin’ sissy!”
I became angry and exclaimed,” My father did not care that i didn’t like football and I don’t care that I’m different from the rest of the world. Bite me!”
He stormed on,”Don’t you ever talk to me that way you inconsiderate, little…”
“Guys, dinner’s ready!”