A personal anecdote that was very pleasing to me but will seem trivial to my readers

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For years I’ve been curious about an Uncle of mine who married my mother’s sister. I think he damaged his children and my Aunt who probably in drunken depression let a lit cigarette incinerate her in her bed as she slept.

Her oldest child, My cousin “E,” suffered Alzheimers and died as did my mother and my and “E’s” grandmother before her. Cousin “E” shared some of her distaste for her father with me but I never pressed her for details. Racism, was at least one point of the distaste. With E’s passing I have been giving my family visits to their house more thought. I am a little estranged from her younger siblings and doubt they would be eager to dish dirt on their father to help me understand family dynamics. HOWEVER, E had a second cousin whose mother was once my mom’s best friend. My mother’s best friend was the mother of this second cousin who was unrelated to me.

I have written just a little about her father before. He was gay and I learned this when I was about 11 and some neighborhood kids made an older boy cry when they called him a “queer.” When I asked my mother to explain this she told me about her best friend’s husband. He was gay back when nobody was gay…..it seemed to eleven year old me. Well, my mother’s best friend and her gay husband had a daughter. This daughter was my first cousin E’s first cousin because her father my uncle was the brother of my mother’s best friend.

Dammit Genealogy takes a lot of explaining.

Because my mother and Jane, the wife of the gay husband, were best friends I saw the daughter several times. The first time I recall she came over with my cousin E and along with my next door neighbor Becky a game of chase the boy ensued. I took great pride in jumping up and over my side porch railing to escape the three girl’s attempts to catch me.

I do not recall earlier visits but my Mother told me she was irritated that her friend didn’t order her daughter to play with me and theorized that this had something to do with her friend not liking men presumably because of the gay husband thing.

The only other time I recall seeing this cousin was our family camping vacation in California where mom’s friend moved. We pulled into San Francisco and I discovered her daughter to be every bit as fetching as the Beach Boys anthem to “California Girls.” She was cool, hip and very cordial. When I got home to Mankato, Minnesota I took the door off of my closet and put up a set of beads to walk through to get my clothes. I just found this bitchin babe with the help of my second cousin. By coincidence they live in adjoining suburbs.

I typed up a reminisce of the past, told her about my thoughts on our mutual troublesome uncle and mailed it off hoping against hope it would reach her. I put all my contact info on it. Friday I got an astonished email back. The California girl, who I had followed a little as long as my mother exchanged X-mas cards with her mother was delighted and amazed to hear from me. We exchanged emails and we left off by telling each other it would be nice to stay in contact. I learned a few things that plugged up some annoying voids in my family history.

I likewise filled some voids in hers. She mentioned she still owns one of my mother’s paintings that was given to her mother years ago and she mentioned how much her mother loved mine. I smile as I write this.

My mother never liked this page of her art because the Internet wasn’t nearly pixilated enough when I posted them two decades ago.

About the author

Harry is a ferociously good natured eccentric in Duluth Minnesota who detests traitors dressed up as Uncle Sam. You can find somewhat better edited writings of his at the Duluth Reader "contributors." page. The URL is:

https://duluthreader.com/contributors/h/84/284-harry-welty