I’ve been trying to get my condo clean and changed up a bit since it is now actually mine. This entails going through a deep closet that’s beneath stairs leading to an upper unit. I pulled most things out, threw a lot away and am now in the process of going through miscellaneous boxes.
One box held diaries written by my grandfather. At one point, he kept a diary consistently and with sufficient detail that it was admitted as evidence during a lawsuit. A man was suing because my grandfather had hit this man with the car and left the scene of the accident. However, my grandfather’s diary showed that he was home in bed with the flu for several days surrounding the date the man claimed the incident occurred. The suit was dismissed.
As the holidays approach, I’ve been giving some thought to “family.”
My birth-family was very small. My mom had one brother and one sister. Her brother never had children and her sister had two daughters. My dad had one brother and his brother had two daughters and a son.
Getting into spouses’ siblings is irrelevant. I don’t know them or if they had progeny. Several years ago, I did meet some of their nieces and nephews at funerals, but I’m not in touch with any.
With Dan’s birthday three days away, I’ve been thinking about Mom and Dan. I’ve been thinking about them a lot and two thoughts have occurred to me.
First, they have given me my new mantra: Not to worry; a good rain will take care of that. I’ll use it after the mantra I stole from “Miss Congeniality:” Dali Lama, Dali Lama, Dali Lama.
Last August, as I scattered their ashes, I was once again hit with the realization that cremains are not like fireplace ashes. When Dan was cremated, some of his ashes were set aside for me to place with Mom’s once she was gone. (Yes, her wishes, not Dan’s, but I don’t think he’d be upset. I don’t think he thought of the possibility.) The rest were scattered by his executor and friend, Harley. I wasn’t in Kansas City when it was done, so it didn’t occur to me that, unlike fireplace ash, cremains don’t just melt away. Continue reading →
I was at the doctor’s office the other day, sitting in the waiting room and … you know … waiting. There were two men talking. One got up and went in for his appointment. The other gentleman started to talk to me.
As it turns out, this man graduated two years ahead of me. That means we both have the reunion coming up. That also means he graduated is Dan’s class. And, of course, he knew Dan. Quite well, actually. As he was called into the office, he asked me to tell Dan “hello” the next time I talk to him.
One of my fondest Christmas memories took place in my early teen years. The whole family was in my parents room watching TV one Christmas Eve. I kept hearing this noise in the next room. It sounded like we had a mouse. I mentioned it, but no one else had heard it.
A few minuets later, I heard it again. Again, no one heard it. The third time it happened, I got up to investigate. My brother Scott said he heard it and it was bats in the attic. Unlikely, I said. Bats hibernate in the winter. Even if there were any up there at this time of year, they would be asleep. I did what any self-respecting, bat-loving little sister would do. I demanded he prove it.
Scott, being certain I would chicken out, started to head to the attic stairs. Mom, being certain I wouldn’t chicken out, told Scott not to take me up there because I might get hurt.