(My grandma is telling me about how she and her sister are planning on a cruise through the Panama Canal.)
Grandma: “I wanted your grandpa to come with us, but he didn’t want to go.”
Grandpa: *not even looking up from his dinner* “I’ve already been there.”
Grandma: “Honey, I keep telling you, I think this would be different from training for Vietnam!”
(I’m in my bed and my cat is there with me, loafing. My sister comes in and we chat, and she starts petting my cat… hard.)
Me: “Don’t be so rough!”
Sister: *scratching his face* “He likes it!”
Cat: *purrs*
Me: “Yeah, well, I’d go wash my hands after. I saw him rubbing his face on the toilet brush earlier, so…”
Sister: “EW!” *goes immediately to wash her hands*
(At least she never tried to pet him again.)
(It’s the year 2000 and my family has just moved from a suburban part of Santa Cruz county to a rural farming area. I’m fourteen and my sister is thirteen. My dad is taking us to our schools in the morning and we pass a small ranch on our road. My sister looks out the window at their animals.)
Sister: “Woah! What happened to their dogs?!”
Me: “[Sister], those are goats.”
Sister: “Oh.”
(Due to unfortunate circumstances, I’m forced to live with my sister and my nephew. He is three and has a set of lungs that must be the size of beach balls. They also have a cat, who avoids him, as well. One time, I’m talking baby talk to the cat and petting it, and my sister hears me.)
Sister: “Why don’t you talk that way to my son? Why don’t you give him attention, too? You’re so mean.”
Me: “He may be cute, but I don’t like noise. Cats are cute and they don’t make noise.”
Sister: “You crazy cat lady!” *huffs away*
(I don’t even own a cat! Is it really that hard to understand that people don’t like screeching, even if it’s from a kid? Not all of them are angels!)
(I am about thirteen, and I have just gotten my braces off. With this, they have given me a retainer which makes me speak with a lisp until I get used to it. Unfortunately, I have an S name, so this makes even saying my own name difficult. My mom wants to talk to her sister on the phone, but she has her hands full, so she has me call first. My uncle has a very dry sense of humor and thus is not very personable to talk to. I’m okay talking with him now, but at the time I’d rather just get to my aunt. This is before caller ID is in most homes.)
Uncle: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi, it’s Stephanie. Is [Aunt] there?”
Uncle: “Who is this?”
Me: “Stephanie.”
Uncle: “We don’t know any Destiny. Sorry, you have the wrong phone number.” *hangs up*
Me: “Uh…”
Mom: “What happened?”
Me: “It was [Uncle]. He said he didn’t know a Destiny and I had the wrong phone number.”
Mom: “Try again. I’m almost finished.”
(On the phone:)
Uncle: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi, it’s Stephanie. Can I talk to [Aunt]?”
Uncle: “Who is it?”
Me: “Stephanie.”
Uncle: “Destiny?”
Me: “No, Stephanie!”
Uncle: “I told you, we don’t know any Destiny. You have the wrong number.” *hangs up*
Me: “He keeps hanging up on me!”
Mom: “What? Why?”
Me: “I don’t know! He keeps calling me Destiny!”
Mom: “Try again. Try to speak more clearly.”
(On the phone:)
Uncle: “Hello?”
Me: “Hello, this is Stephanie. Is–”
Uncle: “I TOLD YOU WE DON’T KNOW ANY DESTINY! STOP CALLING US!” *hangs up*
(I started crying. My mom finished what she was doing and called. Her sister picked up this time. She apologized for my uncle. She was wondering why he was angry on the phone, but my mom and aunt laughed about the situation for a while. Eventually, I found the humor in it, and now they sometimes call me Destiny.)
