So, one night during my freshman year of college I was hanging out at the frat house smoking some stuff. Everyone was talking about random crap when I suddenly had a flash of a memory.
The memory was of me sitting on the sofa in our VERY old living room (back at the house in Chelsea before the living room ended up being my bedroom) and my father had a wooden box on his lap. I could remember distinctly (and still can) him rolling what looked like cigarettes.
I mentioned this to the group and you can imagine the laughs that resulted. More stories unfolded around the group but I was still wondering about mine. I wondered if it was real or maybe a scene from a movie.
So one day I asked my mom about the mysterious box and she responded with that could have been anything, which I think you can agree didnÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t answer the question. I then went to ask my father about the wooden box and his response was it was a metal box.
So I figured avoiding the question is as good as answering the question. And thatÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s the day I realized my parents at one point in their lives used to party.