I grew up surrounded by fascinating men.  None of them had a PhD either.  They were just regular Joes trying to carve out a life for their families. 

I’m Italian.

Need I say more? 

My mother’s maiden name is Marinaro and my father, obviously, was a Giordano.  All four of my grandparents came over “on the boat.”  I love everything about being Italian.  I could probably do without the mob jokes, but they make things interesting. 

When I think back on the Marinaro brothers versus the Giordano brothers we probably could not have manufactured such polar opposites.  My uncles on my mother’s side carried themselves in a quiet, down-to-earth sort of way.  Not a lot of fuss, they just did what needed to be done. 

Then there were the Giordano brothers.  These guys were larger than life.  They walked with a swagger, they fought the fights worth fighting, and they had charm to spare.  They were a breed you just don’t see anymore.

My father, whom I miss every day, is a legend within my extended family.  His exploits were hilarious and his storytelling ability unmatched (in my opinion).  He was hot tempered and generous to a fault.  Well dressed in a flashy, custom-made-shirts kind of way, yet he had no problem pulling over to the side of the road and kicking the crap out of the guy who just shot him the bird.  Yes, it happened.  I was there.  Those are the moments I know my mother looks back on and rolls her eyes.  We laugh about it now.  At the time though, not so funny.

The thing I know about these men is they loved in their own way.  I still don’t understand some of my father’s thought patterns, but he was a spot-on judge of character.  I can’t remember a single time when his character assessment of someone was incorrect.  I will never know how he got to those conclusions.  I probably wouldn’t understand it anyway because he was male and I am female. 

Female brains are wired differently.  Men seem to have compartments where they store information.  Women have a curious maze of wires that intersect and become a chaotic cyclone of activity.  When women want to “talk” the men usually sigh, and open the drawer in their brain that contains the topic at hand.  And don’t even think about wandering off topic because that’s a different drawer entirely.

So here we are folks, it’s Wednesday and we are exploring the Anatomy of the Male Mind.  We ladies all want the answer to the forbidden question. The one lurking, unfulfilled, through our minds. Finally, we breathe deep and ask, “What’s he thinking?” Join us to see if we can answer this question and more.

Class is now in session and be sure to check in with Tracey on Friday for an introduction to Chaos Theory of Writing.

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