The WASPy Side of Tracy
- By Tracy Ames
- Published October 26, 2010
Tracy Ames
My name is Tracy Ames. I’m an author of interracial erotic fiction. My stories are a sensual feast for your senses; mind, body and soul.
I began writing short stories for monthly newsletters and, believe it or not, my friends. After much encouragement, I’m ready to offer you a taste of what only a few have previously savored.
A native of the San Francisco Bay area, I currently split time between Greenwich CT & New York City with my husband, young daughter and a host of pets.
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I’m totally exposing my Black WASP roots. Greg and I take two annual trips: Mid October biking in Brattleboro, VT and Valentine's Day in Gorham, ME. Book promo crap hindered our trip to Maine this year however we’re determined to make our biking/foliage pilgrimage to VT.
Downtown Brattleboro. The bike shops is right under the third flag
Every year we stay at the same B&B, Hickory Ridge House in Putney, and every year we rent bikes from the same bike shop, Brattleboro Bicycle Shop.
Here’s where the WASP bit comes in…
No matter where we are in the world, this is where we go and what we do…Period! Greg HATED the B&B because there was only one centrally located television in the house so you can imagine the male guests ‘politely’ fighting over the remote. Another draw back was the squeaky wrought-iron beds appointed with full size mattresses.
Wait! There’s more…
Breakfast was only served in the formal dining room with same guests who’d engaged in remote control battle the night before. Yeah, talk about tension! The singular pro of staying in this particular B&B was the innkeeper’s expert cyclist advice. He and Greg got on well until the remote was up for grabs.
No kidding, this is our favorite eat-out. Huge salad bar.
Every year, Greg complained. But, every year, we faithfully returned: Eating at the same restaurants, shopping at the same stores, riding the same trails, cursing the same damnable things.
“So why do you continue to go?” a girlfriend asked.
The short answer is tradition. WASPy atonement, I suppose. It’s why Christmas dinner isn’t the same without the green ambrosia salad no one eats and the reason WASP have children: its bloody tradition. This penance isn’t exclusive to WASP but one certainly feels the invisible pinching hand of our ancestors telling us to shut up and get on with it.
Both sides of my family, paternal and maternal, are extreme traditionalist. To this day my siblings and I do illogical shit for no apparent reason other than ‘this is what we’ve always done’. It’s madness, really. So marrying into a family shackled with tradition was par for the course—it simply added more grot to my pile of inherited grot.
Creamery Bridge
Our trip is quickly approaches so I call the B&B to reserve our room. I was pleasantly surprised to find the inn had been sold and all the grinding irritations sorted out by the new owners. I’m pumped…Greg, not so much. For him, moaning and complaining was part of the experience—he didn’t want it fixed.
Tradition, good or bad, shouldn’t be mucked with lest we cease to exist.
If you just said “What the hell!?” raise your hand! *Raises Hand*
Montgomery Crystal Falls up from Creamery Bridge
Downtown Brattleboro. The bike shops is right under the third flag
Every year we stay at the same B&B, Hickory Ridge House in Putney, and every year we rent bikes from the same bike shop, Brattleboro Bicycle Shop.
Here’s where the WASP bit comes in…
No matter where we are in the world, this is where we go and what we do…Period! Greg HATED the B&B because there was only one centrally located television in the house so you can imagine the male guests ‘politely’ fighting over the remote. Another draw back was the squeaky wrought-iron beds appointed with full size mattresses.
Wait! There’s more…
Breakfast was only served in the formal dining room with same guests who’d engaged in remote control battle the night before. Yeah, talk about tension! The singular pro of staying in this particular B&B was the innkeeper’s expert cyclist advice. He and Greg got on well until the remote was up for grabs.
No kidding, this is our favorite eat-out. Huge salad bar.
Every year, Greg complained. But, every year, we faithfully returned: Eating at the same restaurants, shopping at the same stores, riding the same trails, cursing the same damnable things.
“So why do you continue to go?” a girlfriend asked.
The short answer is tradition. WASPy atonement, I suppose. It’s why Christmas dinner isn’t the same without the green ambrosia salad no one eats and the reason WASP have children: its bloody tradition. This penance isn’t exclusive to WASP but one certainly feels the invisible pinching hand of our ancestors telling us to shut up and get on with it.
Both sides of my family, paternal and maternal, are extreme traditionalist. To this day my siblings and I do illogical shit for no apparent reason other than ‘this is what we’ve always done’. It’s madness, really. So marrying into a family shackled with tradition was par for the course—it simply added more grot to my pile of inherited grot.
Creamery Bridge
Our trip is quickly approaches so I call the B&B to reserve our room. I was pleasantly surprised to find the inn had been sold and all the grinding irritations sorted out by the new owners. I’m pumped…Greg, not so much. For him, moaning and complaining was part of the experience—he didn’t want it fixed.
Tradition, good or bad, shouldn’t be mucked with lest we cease to exist.
If you just said “What the hell!?” raise your hand! *Raises Hand*
Montgomery Crystal Falls up from Creamery Bridge
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10 Responses to "The WASPy Side of Tracy"
said this on 27 Oct 2010 9:51:10 AM CDT
You two need a reality show. :D
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said this on 27 Oct 2010 10:22:53 AM CDT
Oh no we don't! It would be the most boring show on TV. It would be cancelled after the first commerical break.
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said this on 26 Oct 2010 1:39:35 PM CDT
Exactly!
If I don't make mashed potatoes to go with the dinner and Red Velvet Cake, Sweet Potato Pie & 7UP Pound Cake for the dessert table....wellllll, I just may be banned from any more family holiday gatherings & given the evil eye throughout the year. So I try not to skip a beat! |
said this on 27 Oct 2010 10:40:06 AM CDT
I'm beginning to think we're all related.
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said this on 26 Oct 2010 5:09:26 PM CDT
Enjoy your trip. You both deserve it.
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said this on 26 Oct 2010 7:28:58 PM CDT
Thanks Olga! I'm actually looking forward to spending some alone time with Greg. He's been a bit stressed this week.
I was going to write a blog post about my driver yesterday but my head is hurting. I'll call you tomorrow. |
said this on 27 Oct 2010 2:34:20 AM CDT
When my grandmother died a few years after my grandfather many of the southern traditions of my family died with her. I'm originally from Texas and as with most southern black people, we were steeped in tradition. Most of the older relatives are dead. My mom is the matriarch of my family and hell she's only 65. I miss a lot of those traditions, but we live all over the place now so many of the ties are as binding as they used to be. I miss my family's gigantic Christmas where we all took our presents down to my aunt's and passed them out one by one and then had a big ol' cholesterol laden breakfast. But now my mom just had knee replaced and is getting the other replaced soon so she don't cook for anyone anymore LOL. I'm trying to get into the traditions of Matt's family he's Norweigan/Swedish and Scottish so there's a lot, this year I participated in the birthday one since Matt was born the day after me, I got to do the angel food cake his mom cooks for everyone's birthday. I'm not a fan of angel food but I enjoyed the tradition part.
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said this on 27 Oct 2010 10:38:52 AM CDT
Same here! My father's family is Southern and my mom's used to be Southern four generations ago before moving back to Germany (long story). Still, those traditions stick! I have one Grandma left and she's past ALL of her traditions on to us. You guys took your gifts to your aunt's also?! Dang, we might be related.
Greg's WASPy traditions are so many in number, I don't know where to start. With Newport being their family seat and Iowa being their homestead, the holidays are filled with virtual landmines. Seriously, after all these years I still use an order of precedence cheat sheet. I messed up one year and had his maternal Grandaunt served before his paternal Grandaunt...all HELL broke out!!! It's like you said about the angel food: not a fan but we enjoy the tradition. |
said this on 26 Oct 2010 10:02:04 AM CDT
Too funny!
Our tradition growing up......going to cut down our very own Christmas tree. Traveling out to the boondocks in Sonoma County, trek through the muck and mire, feet are freezing until Father found "the" tree. He proceeds to cut down the behemouth, drags it back to the main area to have it taken care of, then strapped to the top of the station wagon (yes, Brady Bunch style). All the while us kids are whinning and complaining of the cold, mud and the trek. I always thought to myself, "Hmmmm Caribbean people do not belong in the cold." But all was well once we got our peppermint stick and hot chocolate at the end of the "find the perfect Christmas tree" mission. I try every year to get this tradition started with my family......no one is having it. So now my whinning and complaining is of not going, whereas when I was younger, it was of having to go. *smh* Btw.....my parents still go. ;) |
said this on 26 Oct 2010 12:36:58 PM CDT
Now that's funny! I love your folks. I can see you guys pouting and complaining but quickly turning coat once the candy arrived. *smh* I'm sure at some point your dad thought Caribbean people don't belong in the cold, also. Complaining is all part of the experience.
Why do we do these things? I fold towels & clean my house in the same order as my mom, grandma, and great-grandma and make the some mullings cider every year (though it's normally gone before it hits the bowl). One year, my mom didn't send pound cakes to everyone and folks were pissed! She didn't think we ate them...we DO! We've come to expect these traditions will always be there because...well, they've always been there. |