My grandfather was 26 when he married my grandmother. She was 16. Her parents signed off on the marriage because they wanted to make her someone else's problem. This was Kentucky in the 50's. People were built different I guess. Five years later, at the age of twenty-one, grandma had four daughters. Everyone swears he was a great dad, despite being an ex-con who got locked up over a failed bank robbery. His arms and fingers were covered in prison tattoos. "F.F.F.F" on each knuckle, which stands for something I won't repeat here. Grandma and Grandpa both liked to drink, and would fight in front of the kids. He resented her for being smarter than him, and would always bring it up during their arguments. They frequently beat the shit out of each other. Later, Grandpa got a job driving a truck and found himself in California in 1964. The Watts Riots. They lit his truck on fire and beat him half to death. 34 people died that week but they couldn't kill Grandpa. By all accounts he was a tough son of bitch. Fearless. A year later he was killed by a drunk driver. Grandma is left with four daughters and no work experience. She gets a job at a grocery store and goes on welfare. They move into the projects. Things are bad for a while. Then she met Bill. Bill was a Korean war vet who was recently divorced. When my mother met him, he was waiting for her to get home. He slammed her arm in the door and trapped her there. "I've heard you've been a little bitch to your mother." I asked my mom if she was in fact being a little bitch, and she said yes. My mom's friends waited outside the house with bats, and Bill had to call a friend to come over with a gun and escort him to his car. Eventually Bill quit drinking and chilled out. He brought order to their house and became the patriarch of the family. He was always just "grandpa" to me. They moved to Florida, where ironically things got much more normal. My mom told me this story the other day and I thought about my kids. They aren't allowed to watch spider-man because it's too violent. My son wears my boots and pretends to be me when I'm at work. My daughter randomly breaks into dance, I can't remember the last time I saw her without a smile. I think the Mormons are right about this country. God is an American.