Goodbye My Cousin

How do you mourn someone you loved as a child but didn't like as an adult?
I just found out my cousin B, died and I'm gutted.

My mother worked in a Compton emergency room in the 70s, and needless to say, she worked some pretty crappy shifts. As a single parent, childcare was sometimes hard to find and I was farmed out to aunts, uncles and grandmothers when needed.

B's parents were my mom's brother, Uncle B and his beautiful, loving, fun wife, Aunt C who frequently had me for weekend-long visits. 

When I was there, I was their kid as much as B was; when there were chores to be done, we both did them. If there was punishment to be doled out, which to be quite honest, wasn't very often, we both got the strap.

As children we were inseparable; Ying and Yang; her dark to my light, two halves of a whole. 

It was us against the grown ups; pinky swears and all.  

I clearly remember dancing around the house to 70's rock, with complete abandon. I can still see us, along with my uncle, dancing and singing "Low Rider" by War in the living room while my aunt stood in the kitchen door laughing.

I can see us laying on the living room watching 'Davey and Goliath' while eating huge bowls of cereal, laughing so loud we would wake her parents.  I remember working on Girl Scout badges together even though we were in different troops. 

I wonder if it was the cooking badge we were working on when we almost caught the kitchen on fire?

We were joined at the hip until we reached 6th grade, and I really don't know what changed, but  suddenly we didn't like each other. 

I didn't wear the right clothes, or listen to the right music. While she cared about fashion, I was buried in a book.  

To me, she became snobby and elitist. If you can be considered elitist in the 6th grade, that is. 

To her, I was boring.

I wanted so hard to be part of her clique whenever she had parties, which I am SURE her mother made her invite me to, but she and her friends were just so much more cooler, hipper, and in the know than I was.

I eventually gave up trying to be liked by her and had found my own amazing circle of friends, who are my heart's chosen sisters to this day, in high school.        

We won't talk about junior high, thank you.

Whenever we did see one another at family gatherings, I got hear all about the rich boys she was dating, the cars they drove and where she and her friends would be going on Spring break. 

Seriously B, you lived at the beach in Southern California, why did you need to go anywhere?

Looking back, one might think it was a phase, we all went through them; but sadly, it was her new way.

I don't know what made her think or act the way she did; maybe SHE felt inferior in some way and this was her defense mechanism, I just don't know. 

I think what always bothered me the most, was that she acted like she was so much better than everyone else in because her father wore a suit to work and the rest our large family made up steel workers, laborers and gasp, a nurse. 

We grew up, moved out and moved on. 

It would sometimes be years in between meetings; but B was always B;  Having a conversation with her consisted of, 'I bought this, I'm going here, I know so-and so.'

I think what finally tore it for me, and made me realize that we would never be friends again, was at her wedding reception when she disrespected our grandmother. 

She was seated in a far corner of the party tent with random strangers. You know; the single guy from work you had to invite; the little old lady from down the street who drops off Christmas cookies; those folks. 

No introductions, no 'I am so glad you're here'. 

No place of honor as it should have been.  

As I said, she married; a rich guy, of course, and had two lovely children and seemed to be living the American dream. 

I found out yesterday she was found unresponsive by her daughter. 

What I also learned was that it is suspected that she died of injuries sustained as a result of years of spousal abuse. I was shocked. 

You never know what someone's life and marriage is like behind closed doors. 

All we see these days are the fun, perfect lives in our Facebook, Instagram and Twitter universe.

I probably should have reached out to her, forgiven past behaviors, been a grown up for God's sake, but after a life time of feeling inferior and annoyed, which is my own cross to bear, it just seemed like wasted effort.

How do I comfort my aunt, who lost her other child, less than a year ago, when I can't honestly say to her, 'I know she loved you', or 'She was such a great person' or 'I'll miss her so much'? 

It would be hypocritical of me to say these things to a woman, who I do love very much, who knew what disdain we held for each other.

I mourn the girl I snuck into the movies with; who I laid in the dark talking for hours with; who forced me to ride 'Colossus' for the very first time, starting my love of roller coasters; the girl I went toilet papering with. 

She was the sister I always wished for, but didn't get to keep.
Rest in peace, my cousin and I'll try to remember only the good times.

This is Me

This is Me

So, here I am, starting a blog. My friend G said I have a lot to say, so a blog would be the perfect place to say all of these things.

Hmm, yeah, OK; so what DO I say?

I suppose I should explain my title; I was, and am, a huge Magnum P.I. fan. At the end of the 86-87 season, Thomas Magnum was supposed to die, and during the episode, he is in "limbo", the title of the episode, and seeing all of his loved ones deal with his situation. During a "conversation" with his buddy, Mac, who died a few seasons before, they are arguing about time and Mac says to Thomas; "Time has little to do with infinity and jelly donuts."

Well, thankfully Thomas lived to see another sunset, and the title of episode 1, season 8, was... INFINITY AND JELLY DONUTS.

I have always loved this quote and have used it when people try to argue time, or are running late, or whatever. Most people in my circle know of my obsession with Magnum, have heard me use it countless times before, and pay me no mind. Others, first timers, look at me as if my cheese has slipped off of it's cracker. 

I am a 50 something (groan, sigh) California beach native. I live with the love of my life, who I will refer to as "The Boy", in a beautiful, historic neighborhood of the South Bay. I have been working for the same company, a large medical group, for 24 years.

I adore all animals, but I love dogs the most. 
I love wine, and hope to work in the industry one day

I am a veracious reader of all genres; I collect and enjoy cookbooks, and love to cook. I have been told I throw amazing parties, and my best sister-friend calls me "Martha St*wart on crack" because I am so fanatical about everything being just right. I have no children of my own, and I like it this way. 
I consider myself the adoring "Aunt" to several of my friend's children. I have lived here in a California beach town for all but 3 years of my life, when I lived in a Florida beach town. 
No offense to the lovely state of Florida; with it's hurricanes, tropical storms, humidity, snowbirds, spring breakers, and home of Scient*logy; but I'll stay in California from now on. 
I am an only child of a lifelong medical professional who raised me on her own, and was an amazing person; if one is allowed to say that about their mother. I am lucky enough to have a very tight circle of friends that I consider sisters; and have known most of them since high school.

I am a life long James Dean fan, and was able to visit his hometown in Fairmount, Indiana several years ago, with my mother. It truly was a beautiful, and awe inspiring trip.

So, that's me. I know I haven't really said too much, but will in the future.

I am quite sure I haven't said anything remotely enough to be interesting; but I really do hope that will change as I become more comfortable spilling my guts in Cyberland.

Oh, and in case you're wondering; you can call me Blondie.