"A View From a Broad"
as seen on
LiveWeston.com

South Florida is such a great mix of different ethnicities, cultures and backgrounds.

Like most people, I have an array of "colorful relatives" and growing up, they were all a contributing factor to my somewhat off beat persona. I suspected this even before it was pointed out to me in therapy - which didn't last long. Really, why pay some shrink $100 an hour to explain your personality disorders-just go to your family reunion and look around.

I am a mixed breed. My mom is from Switzerland, my dad is from Armenia and my grandfather on my mom's side, was a bona fide Hungarian gypsy, complete with covered wagon and fortunetellers, the kind Cher wrote a song about.

I think it's important to embrace your heritage. Take my Swiss side for instance. What are they known for? Let's see - secret bank accounts, chocolate and that Swiss Army knife. The first two I can understand - everybody on the planet lies about how much money they really have and if they have a lot, the problem then becomes where to stash it. Chocolate of course is second only to heroin in its addictive qualities. In fact, chocolate makers could keep themselves in Jaguars and ocean front villas for generations just by catering to women with PMS. But the Swiss army knife? Switzerland hasn't been involved in an armed conflict since 1847, yet they keep cranking out that knife. Ever see that thing? It's got a nail file, corkscrew and scissors on it. When did a nail file, corkscrew and scissors become military weapons? You get the feeling the Swiss weren't really serious about warfare? Like they saw the enemy coming and said: "Achtung! Let's open up a nice Riesling and get hammered instead. Then we can give each other manicures and haircuts." And get this - now the Swiss army knife comes with an MP3 player. What? I guess so you can listen to Makes No Sense at All while wearing your Swiss army uniform.

And all my female Swiss cousins - don't shave. Anything. Beautiful girls but you should see them in a bikini - they look like human chia pets coming at you.

The Swiss are smokers too. Woo! I have news for you - that whole "health" thing has not totally reached Europe. They still smoke like fiends over there. I went to a restaurant in Zurich and the choices were Smoking, Fireplace or Incinerator. If you complained, you could take your candy-ass American lungs and get the hell out.

Then there's the music. My mom would get drunk at parties and start to yodel while attempting to play the accordion. If that doesn't brand a kid into the ranks of the uncool in front of their friends, I don't know what does. Thank the Lord she wasn't wearing lederhosen and that little hat with the feather when she did it. My gay uncle did that.

The Armenian side of my family is fun too. My father, who still had a heavy ethnic accent after living in the US for over 30 years, believed that no matter what you ate, it had to be accompanied by garlic. Cloves of garlic were like condiments in our house. My dad would say, "Garlic eez good for you! Eat garlic with that Annie - you won't get a cold." Dad, it's vanilla ice cream.

It's true though; no one on my father's side of the family ever seemed to get sick. I think it was because the garlic breath pretty much dissuaded close interaction by other humans. Vampires didn't need Dr. Van Helsing to destroy them; a pack of Armenians breathing on them after a hearty meal would have done the trick.

Armenians are generally a hirsute bunch; long sideburns, moustaches and lots of forearm hair begins to show up in the early teens - and that's just the girls. I was glad I had the Swiss in me to negate the Groucho 'stache. However, my hairline starts at my shoulder blades so I guess it's all a happy tradeoff.

The gypsy part is the part I really enjoy. Mainly because all those Bohemian clothes are in style now and the only musical instrument I've ever been able to master is the tambourine.

But no matter what your background, it's all good. Did I tell you about the time my grandfather was naked and drove his wagon into a pond and - hey! Where you going? What? Is it my breath?

Questions, comments or places to send presents? Email me: annaco@comcast.net.

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