Just Cuz

Through a convoluted series of events, including the fabrication of a Facebook account for my dad (who couldn't give a crap about Facebook) I emailed a couple of pictures to my cousin Evelyn, the family historian. She said that she was glad she was sitting down when my email appeared in her inbox. Why? Because the last time I ever had any contact with her was probably in the mid-sixties, during one of the family reunions where everyone sat in a circle in somebody's living room and talked. I was maybe twelve or thirteen at the time, all of my cousins were years older than me, and those reunions were enough to drive me nuts-- short drive, I know.

I've sometimes wondered at myself and my relations with my family. I used to hang out with a family in Maryland that I felt closer to than most of my own. They were a tightly knit bunch, and I was glad to be around them. I was best man at Michael's wedding, an usher for one of his sisters' wedding, and chauffeur for the other. When Michael died, I was a pall bearer. Carmen and I were seated at the family table at the luncheon after the funeral, and had Thanksgiving dinner with them the next day. I've never been that close to my own family, other than my parents. When my brother died I went to the funeral home and picked up the box with his ashes in it, and it's stored in my parents' attic. Touching.

I can name all of my aunts and uncles, I even think I can name all of my cousins. But I haven't seen any cousins since the early seventies, and the Delaware branch of the family- I have only the vaguest recollection.

My Uncle Jim was my favorite, and my dad's best buddy growing up. I saw him more than all of the rest put together, and he didn't provide any cousins.

So Cousin Evelyn, I can only say that somehow the importance of family escaped me, either by nature or nurture. I can easily believe I will go to my college (I don't get a grave- I'm donated to medical study) without seeing any of you again. How sad is that?