February 15 2012.

There is no clear way to start this, so I’m just going to start explaining things the way I have done with my friends so often over the years. My parents were/are Rosemarie Joan Marino and Ahmed Ben Mohammed El Wadrassi Touil. The last time I had to give those two names in full I had just been pulled over by the Spanish police for having someone with dark skin in the car. They seemed as confused by my appearance and sound of my father’s name as most are when they first hear it. Then once their head stops spinning they figure I must look more like my mom then my Dad and man there are times in my life where I wish that were true. Fact is my Dad’s not that dark for a Moroccan, I remember him and his cousin Rashid burning on the beach in Oued Laou when I was a kid. One time we had to rush Uncle Rashid to the hospital with sunstroke, he was hallucinating in the passenger seat; Dad driving in the old Renault along the coastal mountain road honking around every corner and my mother cooling his forehead with water and calming him down. My sister and I starring with amazement at the scene, annoying the driver, nurse equally with our questions.

My mother died August 4th 1991, brain cancer. My father I’m not sure could be a “were” and maybe an
“are”. My parents split when I was about 11, that was 1986 and outside some court battles over money back in the nineties, I haven’t seen my Dad since my parents split. The truth is, everything got so weird and my father had so many problems, I never knew what to do. When my mother died I had a lot of other issues to deal with and many years went by, I never thought I ever wanted to see my Dad again. In the late 90’s I found out he started another family with my mother’s first cousin. At that point I decided it’s all too complicated and twisted for me to give a shit. I forgive my Dad and am not surprised he kept running away his whole life, he got dealt a shit deck and didn’t have the education or support to dig himself out.

My mother was born October 12^th 1945; incidentally my wife and I were married the same day in 2008. It was a total coincidence; it was the most convenient day available in the restaurant schedule so we picked it. I didn’t tell anyone or make an issue of it on the day; it was really something for my wife, me and my sister to think of throughout the day. I did.

Mom was born to Dorothy Joan Charman and Joseph Marino. Joe was in the Royal Canadian signal core stationed in Oxshott, Surrey during the war. Mom said he signed up the day Canada declared war and I think he knew the early bird got the worm. The worm, in this case being a warm, dry, safe manor home in Surrey were he and his peers fought the wireless war. Not too from Oxshott is Leatherhead, the town my Grandmother was born in. I was just looking at a map and realized that Chelsea FC training grounds are nearby, guess that makes me…

From left to right, my dad, sister, mother, me and my great Aunt Audrey, in Bex-hill-on-Sea, Sussex, England. This was our last family trip. We spent a month in Morocco and a few days in England.