One of the things I like about me (and sadly those are few and far between) is that I seem to have a knack for old folks telling me stories.

Like when my buddy’s mom told me about the “vagabond lover” in their family tree, who got tossed from a Hungarian village for his wayward ways. Or Sammy on the bus telling me about moving from Jamaica and his relationshp with his wife.

Last night’s version was the family’s patriarch of the host to M.’s family telling me about his “roadhog” youth, his four cars and a motorcycle and how someone in his family well-connected and of high rank in the police department had to get him out of jail. Fast times, fast cars in the old world.

I love hearing other people’s adventures.

Also, I learned two knew dirty phrases last night. One in Fukinese Chinese and the other in Malay. Every time I’m with any kind of family for any period of time, I realize that all families are about as equally goofy and obnoxious.