Curry

I'm adopted. My adoptive parents "acquired" me from a monastery. In
fact, the same holds for my brother and sisters. We were all adopted
from the same monastery. The nuns there kept meticulous records about
our nationalities and any other known issues. My paperwork reported
that I am 1/4 Irish, 1/4 East Indian, and 1/2 Italian.

But my paperwork is wrong.

I believed it was right, and I grew up thinking that I was part East
Indian, which explained quite a lot about my skin tone (I'm darker
than my siblings), the dark circles under my eyes, and my love of
curry.

I was a bit surprised to find that I am, in fact, 1/2 Italian and 1/2
AMERICAN Indian. Or, as we like to say, feathers, not dots. The
circles under my eyes, I'm guessing, are from the Italian side of the
family.

And still, I absolutely love curry. I even love Asian curry. My mother
kept a jar of curry in our refrigerator for years. I'm pretty sure it
was inedible for most of that time, but I do remember seeing it there.
When we moved, it came with the fridge. Mom wasn't much of a curry
user (she's 1/2 Italian and 1/2 Hungarian), and no one in the family
other than me was reported to be East Indian, so there wasn't much
call for it amongst the others. I really don't recall having good
curry until I was older.

I think the first time I had really good curry was in England during
my first trip there. The hotel was run by Indians, and it smelled
rather strongly of curry most of the time. It didn't bother me. It
just made me hungry for curry. So, into town I went (this was in
Slough), and I found several places that served curry. I was quite
surprised that I had never had anything so delicious. And thus was
born my love of curry.

I think of this now because I am eating a hot dog with curry habanero
sauce on it. This most likely makes me guilty of some kind of
blasphemy, either to the hot dog, or to the curry. Possibly both. But
I have to say, it's bliss to me. The Native American Indian.

Perhaps Columbus had found India after all.