I sipped my morning diesel to the sights and sounds of an androgynous long eared rabbit. No one can mistake that distinctive voice, or those utterly flamboyant mannerisms. Was he or wasn’t he? We’ll never know I guess. We can only hope.

I grew up on cartoons. On Looney Tunes. On Walt Disney. On anything that was scrawled by hard working artists. I wasn’t a fan, however, of the hues and illustrations of Japanese anime cartoons. I just didn’t ‘get’ them. There was something that wasn’t believable to me about them, whereas a talking bunny was totally plausible. Maybe my imagination was reserved for loud mouthed animals rather than human characters who would harm each other with their golden daggers or sorcery. I guess I preferred dynamite to swords. Acme boxes of trickery to wizards and warriors. Except for maybe She-ra… the Princess of Power. She was a great role model, no?

I grew up in a neighborhood of boys. All boys. And me. I watched both He-Man and She-ra with them (although they may not admit to the latter). I played Hulk Hogan in my WWF wrestling ring that my parents bought me for my 9th birthday (I found it in the closet in the basement and cried all afternoon because I had ruined the surprise… yes I was a sensitive child). I was the token girl who was put in net when when we’d play hockey. Thankfully I learned how to stickhandle as well as the boys, so I was eventually allowed out of the net and on the front-line. Being a girl did not mean that they were any more lenient with me, it just meant that I went home with more bloodied noses and bruised knees, much to my parent’s dismay. But I felt it really added to my ‘tough factor’, which you needed in a neighborhood of rascally boys.

Not that I condone violence. Ever. Even in hockey.

Mom and Dad were (and still are) good parents. They supported me in anything I chose to do. They allowed me the freedom to play all the sports I wanted (injuries and all), learn whatever instrument I wanted (and didn’t force me to practice) and to date whomever I wanted to date (as long as their parents weren’t voting conservative of course). This is the type of parenting, with cartoons, bloody noses, t-ball and piano lessons that made me whomever it is I am today…

On that note, thanks Mom and Dad.

Lisa

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