When your mom's a bigger rebel than you'll ever be

My mom was a hippie who did a lot of drugs when she was younger. And when she was older. And in between. Meanwhile, my dad was a prosecutor who worked as an Assistant DA in NYC. Strange match. Sometimes people find out and say, "Oh, like Dharma and Greg." Yeah, except it sucked for real.

I'm tame compared to my mom. Years ago, my cousin told me that when he was 13, she gave him a book with a tab of acid in it for his bar mitzvah. Apparently they were out of heroin and machetes at Inappopriate Toys ‘R Us!

Later, I asked my mom if it was true and she said, “I don’t remember doing that.” But then again, if she HAD done it, there’s a pretty good chance she wasn’t keeping copious notes at the time. Distributing psychedelics to adolescents is not the kind of activity that usually involves a spreadsheet and rigorous bookkeeping, ya know?

And I remember when I was 15, I came home with a crewcut. She actually got mad at me. She said, “Why are you so buttoned down?” Why? Because it’s the only way I have to rebel against you, ya weirdo!

How can you outrebel someone who gives acid to a 13-year old? Steal acid from a 13-year old? Steal a 13-year old?! I did the only thing I could think of: I started a chapter of Mothers Against Drunk Driving. At least I knew she'd never do that.