
My mom and dad got divorced when I was 2. I didn't really know much about my father, other than his voice. He had a really deep voice and a thick Hungarian accent.
I had never heard another man with a voice quite like his until I saw a tall handsome man on TV one day...tall and pale like my mom said my dad was...with straight dark hair and piercing eyes, like my mom said...so of course, my 4-year-old mind figured that Dad (Apu) was on TV.
That man was Bela Lugosi.
"Anyu! Apu is on the television!" I screamed to her whenever "Dracula" was on.
She smiled to herself. "Yes, Stephie, your fadder sure knows how to suck dah blood out of anything."
Obviously, I didn't see the irony her comment until today.

I feared the chipped, 1970s, spicy-mustard–colored bowl in our kitchen cabinet. It was used primarily for whisking eggs, making dough, and to measure out my haircut.
One day, I was walking through my kitchen, nagging my Nagymama for a Fudgesicle before dinner. After about five minutes of persistent whining, she reached in the freezer and handed me the frozen treat. I ripped the white waxed paper victoriously, but my bliss was cut short when I spotted the notorious bowl in the middle of the kitchen table. For a moment, I hoped that Nagymama was just going to make us some Hungarian crepes (Palacsinta) for dessert, but I dismissed the thought when I saw the rusty, green-handled scissors adjacent to the bowl.
I almost dropped my ice cream. This was a trick! They were getting ready to give me a haircut!
I looked for a hiding spot. I had tried everything in the past: hiding behind the shower curtain in the bathtub, standing in the back of my mom’s closet with her blue bathrobe draped over me and cowering behind cardboard boxes of toys under my bed. For whatever reason,...
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Reader Advisory
Some of these stories may contain mild profanity, poo humor, sex talk, and general “TMI” (too much information). The names in these stories have been changed to protect the guilty.