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Overall, my family hasn't really changed that much. They remain a cantankerous brood that squabbles with itself when its not getting along just fine.
I saw my Aunt Phoebe while I was down this trip. It's been ten years since I've seen her and she hasn't changed a bit, except that her hair has gotten grayer and she's moving a bit slower. She's almost seventy years old, but you'd never know it.
Say what you will about my family, at least we all seem to age well.
I went and saw my aunt with my mom and, pretty soon, the talk all turned to who was related to who and how. Family genealogy 101.
Learned some interesting bits and pieces. Apparently, I have some Cherokee blood in me from a great-great grandmother. Also, one of the great-aunts apparently ran a whorehouse and was infamous for being able to walk down to her mailbox and urinate at the same time without ever soiling her dress.
And, of course, no family talk is complete without dredging up the rumors and scandals. Did this particular relative poison her husband who was laid up in bed with colitis? He died, raving, and she cremated the body awful damn quick. And what about the cousin who's secretly taken up with a black woman? If his mama ever finds out, heads will roll and, more likely, wills will be rewritten. And so-and-so died from the AIDS and this uncle disowned his oldest daughter and that one ran off with some poor white trash, etc.
After four hours of that, it was almost a relief, the next day, to meet my two nephews and see my sister. And even if my sister wanted to sit down and pour out a litany of medical problems plaguing her, everything from high blood pressure to arthritic knees, that was preferable to the last night's conversations.
As for my nephews? Well, I'm surprised at how well that meeting went. I have two nephews, four-year old Brody and almost-three-year old Angus. Do not ask me where my sister and her husband got those names from, because I have no idea.
Brody, the older boy, is definitely his mother's child. He stayed close to her and was real shy at first, but at the end he warmed up to me. His little brother, Angus, on the other hand just jumped right in with both feet. Laughing and rough-housing, that boy was climbing all over me by the end of the visit and demanded a hug goodbye before he got strapped into his car seat.
Of course, all through the visit, my mom kept poking her head in and asking, "Don't you want some of your own?"
Oy.
I saw my Aunt Phoebe while I was down this trip. It's been ten years since I've seen her and she hasn't changed a bit, except that her hair has gotten grayer and she's moving a bit slower. She's almost seventy years old, but you'd never know it.
Say what you will about my family, at least we all seem to age well.
I went and saw my aunt with my mom and, pretty soon, the talk all turned to who was related to who and how. Family genealogy 101.
Learned some interesting bits and pieces. Apparently, I have some Cherokee blood in me from a great-great grandmother. Also, one of the great-aunts apparently ran a whorehouse and was infamous for being able to walk down to her mailbox and urinate at the same time without ever soiling her dress.
And, of course, no family talk is complete without dredging up the rumors and scandals. Did this particular relative poison her husband who was laid up in bed with colitis? He died, raving, and she cremated the body awful damn quick. And what about the cousin who's secretly taken up with a black woman? If his mama ever finds out, heads will roll and, more likely, wills will be rewritten. And so-and-so died from the AIDS and this uncle disowned his oldest daughter and that one ran off with some poor white trash, etc.
After four hours of that, it was almost a relief, the next day, to meet my two nephews and see my sister. And even if my sister wanted to sit down and pour out a litany of medical problems plaguing her, everything from high blood pressure to arthritic knees, that was preferable to the last night's conversations.
As for my nephews? Well, I'm surprised at how well that meeting went. I have two nephews, four-year old Brody and almost-three-year old Angus. Do not ask me where my sister and her husband got those names from, because I have no idea.
Brody, the older boy, is definitely his mother's child. He stayed close to her and was real shy at first, but at the end he warmed up to me. His little brother, Angus, on the other hand just jumped right in with both feet. Laughing and rough-housing, that boy was climbing all over me by the end of the visit and demanded a hug goodbye before he got strapped into his car seat.
Of course, all through the visit, my mom kept poking her head in and asking, "Don't you want some of your own?"
Oy.
