A month ago, I sounded an alarm that I was coming undone. Well, it happened. I exploded. If you were in the Clayton area on Sunday, July 14, you might have heard a large rumbling noise and a loud scream and perhaps were hit by little bits of red hair. Sorry about that!
So, this is the column where I say goodbye, bid you adieu, slán leat. I am going back to where I came from, which, according to my birth certificate, is Brentwood, Missouri. But first, there are a few things to remember about me: I love my country. I would never want to live anywhere else. I consider myself patriotic. I pay my taxes without grumbling, and the only ones I complain about are real estate taxes. (But then I remember that waste management professionals come to the back of my house to pick up the trash so that I don’t even have to remember to put it out!) Members of my family have served in every war when called upon. No deferments. We fly the American flag on holidays. No, I don’t wear an American flag bikini for two reasons: One, yuck. Who wants to see a 59-year-old in a bikini? And two, my dad taught me that the flag should remain in its original form, not on a T-shirt, pair of shorts or anything that distorts the image. My views tend to lean left. I have been called a liberal (fine with me), libertard (not sure what that means), socialist (nope), communist (nope), bleeding heart (yuck), uninformed (oh so wrong), and I have never once punched anyone for it. I enjoy and encourage informed debate between people with different opinions.
We have four newly elected Congresswomen who are racial minorities. None of them hold any senior-ranking positions on any committees to be able to move forward big pieces of legislation, but still, the president has decided to shine a bright light on them. Why is he so bothered by these women who don’t have that much power? He told them to “go back” to where they came from and clean up the mess in their countries; three out of four were born in the United States. So I decided to listen to the president. I am heading back to Brentwood to clean up the mess.
Hmm. There does not appear to be a mess in Brentwood. It looks like the schools are in great shape. In fact, people actually move there so their kids can attend them. Real estate gets snapped up quickly, so you can’t ponder a home purchase for too long. Oh, and I heard from one longtime resident that police officers patrol areas on bikes, which makes them much more visible in the community and limits any shenanigans. Though, having grown up in Brentwood, it’s never really been known as a place to get wild. So Brentwood doesn’t need me.
I still don’t know where my mom’s family came from. On ancestry.com, it shows them as far back as the Revolutionary War. (Watch out, Daughters of the American Revolution. I might be the newest member!) So Ireland, here I come. My grandfather Pat Fitzgerald didn’t leave a trail, so I’m not really sure where I’m going.
Anyway, I’m sure some people won’t like this column, but don’t email me. I’ll respond with ‘contact the editor.’ She’s the one who gets to tell me Patty Unleashed is over because I have come undone. It’s been a nice ride.
Contact Patty at phannum@townandstyle.com.