The Encyclopedia Of Me

A {Aaron, Baxter (Dad)}

My dad, Bax Aaron, is a plumber. Nobody calls Dad "Baxter." He says that "Baxter" sounds like the name of either a fat orange cat or a manservant on a British comedy, and he is neither, although he'd not-so-secretly have liked to be on a British (or any) comedy. Dad spent his whole life wanting to be on a actor on TV. But he's a plumber because his dad was a plumber and so plumbing was his thing to fall back on. The moral of this semi-tragic story is that you should probably make your "thing to fall back on" a lot more fun than plumbing. (Unless you enjoy plumbing, in which case, you should go for it.)
Dad is completely movie-star good-looking, so why he is not famous actor is a mystery to most. Everywhere we go, women eyeball Dad like they wish they could capture him and keep him forever, like a piece of art or a hunk of cheese. Dad is generally oblivious and/or is very good at acting oblivious, more evidence of his incredible and overlooked talents.
     Dad likes salads featuring tiny cobs of corn, rollerblading, motorcycle and reggae. He says reggae is his people's music, but I am one of his people and I don't like reggae at all. Frequently, he can be found dancing to the reggae that plays with an uncontrollable twitch disorder. He knows how to play a banjo, a guitar, a ukulele, and a strange stringed thing that is called a lute. He is quite brilliant musically, another gift I did not receive in gene lottery.
     Dad is British, and yes, he had an accent. He is African-American

3. Dad's dad is Jamaican. His mom is from St. Lucia, but actually she was born in England. It's complicated, except I guess it really isn't, as that's all there is to it. If they were white people from Poland and South Dakota, no one would be ooohing and aaahing at ye exoticness of Dad's heritage, and Mom and Dad would be a regular white couple who no one stared at in restaurants

, except not American. In Britain, they say "African-Caribbean." Dad would never say "African-Caribbean-American-Jamaican" or whatever. "Black" is an OK thing to say, at least in our family. Other families feel differently, or so I hear. The worst word is "colored." Don't ever say that unless you want to get punched directly in the stomach by me. I'd punch your nose, but I likely can't reach it, especially if you're tall, unless I stand on a chair, and you'd probably escape before I got properly positioned.
     And NEVER say the n word. Not even jokingly. If you've ever said it, shut this book right now and get out of here. OUT.

I don't even know what the n word is. I'll be updating every day so you know whatever. Don't forget to go to The Numbers chapter to find out what #3 is about.
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