Freaking French

The winner is...Dave.
When I was four years old, the same day I got out of the hospital I put my arm though a French door and almost died from blood loss. I ended up with over 200 stitches in my arm alone. (Mom says closer to 300) Combine that with the scar on my side and I have well over 1000 stitches in me.
The first time I ever heard the word French was Dad screaming at the top of his lungs,"God Damn French Doors!"
Steve was my brother. He didn't mean to shoot me. I don't think a day went by that he didn't feel bad about it.
But the French? They meant to build that door. That was just shoddy workmanship. Honestly, have you ever heard of a boy almost bleeding to death after running his arm though a German door? Or a good old American solid oak door?
I didn't know anything about the French for years other then they had the singularly bad idea to build doors with cheap breakable glass.
I didn't meet anyone from France until my college days. Of course he had to come across as your typical rude Frenchman.
I don't remember what he said , but I do remember screaming as I was being carried away by friends ,"Well at least we don't fall down and play dead everytime there's a German in the room! And We Can Build Decent God Damn Doors!!"
So that started my feelings for the French.
Again as anyone who knows me can tell you , once you've gotten on my bad side it's very hard to get back on my good side. The French haven't even tried.
Plus they gave us Mimes.
Mimes?
And they talk about our culture......


Why Blog?
My friend Mark wanted me to do this. I've joked that he thinks he's going to get this all published one day and earn a standard 85% editors fee.
But that's not why I'm doing this.
I want to leave my children a sense of where they came from. So often all we know of our past are photographs that mean very little to us. Mom saying to us ,"that's Uncle so and so." I want to give my family more. 30 years from now I want my grandkids to have a sense of me as a child. I want them to know what sort of man their Great grandfather was.
I want them to hear these stories before they are gone for good.
So Yes. These stories are true. I say this because I'm going to be writing about some hard to believe stuff in a little bit. Some of it My Friends know. Some of it they don't. But it is true. Of course many times I've said,"Man this is hard to believe but...."
But this is true. I don't want to leave my children lies.
I've already said I know very little of Dad's childhood. I know much less about his Father's whole life. As to my Great Grand Father , all I know about him was that he was a gunfighter who rode with Pancho Villa.
So before this is all lost I want to save what I can. It'll take a while to write down all my misadventures and deeds. After they are done and organized ,I plan on taking this to kinko's and printing up 5 or 6 copies.
Of course if Mark can get a book deal I ain't gonna stop him.
So my question today to you is why do you blog? What do you want to get out of this? Do you want it to be another diary or do you have something else in mind? If you do what would it be?