How I came to be...

My mother is a lovely blue-eyed half-Italian, half-Swedish conservative from a small Town in Minnesota. My father is a Spanish-Basque thug from Salt Lake City, Utah. Someone once said to me, “Well, that must make you a…Thuglican?” They met at a Mexican cantina, called La Paloma where my mother was waitressing. He asked her to go golfing. Betsy, a friend and fellow co-worker of my mother's said, “Don’t you marry him Winnie!” “I’m not going to marry him, we’re just going golfing.” Two months later they were married.