Entertainment

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Short excerpt:

In the mid-1980s, my mom and dad forged their identities in the punk music scene at the edges of the University of Florida. Pee-wee’s Playhouse had an in-your-face energy and subversive visual reinterpretation of old-school children’s television that made it required watching among their friends.

“You have to understand,” my dad explains every time we pass the apartment where my godmother, mom’s first bandmate, used to live. “Very few people had cable back then. CBS didn’t have a local affiliate, but Sharon had a 12-inch TV with a wire hanger antenna that caught the Jacksonville signal. When I met your mom, we all went over there on Saturday mornings to get stoned, eat grits and watch Playhouse.”