I grew up not knowing most of my family, I knew them by reputation only and their reputations proceeded them. So compelling were their reps that though I didn't even know them, still they had a great influence on me. They were always with me.... I had no faces to attach to them, scarcely any memories to go with them, only the stories. And the stories weren't many, but they were very intriguing! But my mom refused to talk about her family, so I didn't ask.
I didn't ask, but I'm sorry to say I snooped! I was so curious that I could not resist. Sadly, my snooping did not pay off. All I found was a few pictures. My mother had them in a box in her closet. They did not jibe at all with the stories and impressions that I had gotten. Somehow, I expected neglected, half-starved children but instead, they were beautiful and well-tended. This only added to the mystery and intrigue.
And so I continued to try to solve the puzzle of my family, the family who were distant, mythological figures to me. The stories that I heard of them, whenever I did hear a story, sounded so wonderfully romantic. I filled in the rest that I didn't know about, which was most of it, with little snippets of knowledge that I had obtained here and there. Overheard conversations, the few times that I had actually met any of them and what I remembered from those times and of course, the snooping and thus the myth was born. And like most myths, it was all true in its way.
The story starts with Grandma, who was and is a flamboyant, colorful figure! There were 4 children and my mother always said that my Grandmother, who had grown up the pampered only child of a Doctor, just wasn't ready for the responsibility. I never really understood what she meant by this, because she never told me.
But I did know that my Grandma used to like to shoplift! My mom said that she never went into a store without walking out with something extra. Once she shoplifted a poodle skirt which I think is hilarious! It was rather strange because my Grandpa, her husband, was a physician as well so obviously, she didn't need to do this. She apparently did if for the thrill. Grandma was apparently very outrageous!
She missed the flapper era by a few years. But since I'm not sure what they called the girls like her from her generation, I will call her a flapper. She smoked, drank, cussed and of course....shop-lifted and I suspect, may have been pregnant with my mom when she married my Grandpa. And now at 90, when she gets mad, she strips off her clothes which only serves to illustrate the uncompromising integrity of her character.
A lot of people on my mothers side, probably suffer from some kind of mood disorder, my Grandmother being one of them. Not much was known about this type of thing in time for it to help her, but Grandma had some money, so she was considered eccentric, rather than crazy.
My own mother has a love-hate relationship with eccentricity. But she's had to learn to live with it because I don't think that anyone in my family really has any choice but to be slightly eccentric, it's in our upbringing, or maybe even our blood.
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I have gotten away from blogging recently, as you have probably noticed. While I was having problems, I spent so many weeks hunched over my keyboard that I sort of needed a break. I have been working on this post for awhile and it is coming very slow, so I decided to publish the first part, even though it is not even close to being finished.
16 comments:
loving it so far. especially the part about grandma being eccentric rather than crazy because of her wealth. so true.
Well, this is something I can entirely relate to.
My family is made up of one half "white" sheep, one half "black", with no gray sheep. You're either hardcore religious, or you like to drink, smoke and raise some hell in one form or another. At least most everybody is an artist or a musician. I got both of those, as luck had it, so I've only raised a little hell in my time.
And I too have had to snoop and play detective to find out half the dirt. The only thing that worked was asking uncles when they were drunk. Then the beans would get spilled.
btw--that story I wrote at my blog was actually fiction. It's all good! But the Candace was real.
Thanks Benji-It was fun to write, cathartic.
Eric-As I was writing this, something was telling me that you would be able to relate to this post.
(1) Series are good. I like reading them.
(2) I have a similar mystery on my dad's side of the family. My (biological) paternal grandfather died three weeks before my father's first birthday. So they were partly cut off from that part of the family. By the time my generation came along, we only had two uncles and a cousin from that branch who stopped in to see us every once and awhile.
My parents, my aunts and my grandmother didn't speak to me about this mystery side of the family, very much. My grandmother was in the process of letting me in little by little, as soon as I got old enough to understand, in her opinion.
Needless to say, that's the colorful side of the family. With the exception of an uncle who murdered a woman for $10 (long before I was born), we're pretty boring, actually.
But my dad's people were colorful. My great grandfather, it is said, slept with dogs and howled at the moon...for starters.
No kleptomaniacs, though.
returning the stop by to read a story that reminds me strangely of my grandmother, about 85 years old, that loves to flirt with men on the internet
gritty old women, cute enough, especially when you think of older women as more conservative
love your writing
oh, I linked ya on my page if you don't mind?
Oh geeze......I shudder at what legacy I'm leaving and the stories the grandkids will be telling about little ol' me! AUGH! LOL
x-I totally sympathise, you always think that one day you will find out and you eventually realize that you are never going to know and its sort of depressing but, you make your own life interesting instead, I suppose.
Killed someone for $10? Maybe if he was around now, he would have killed someone for his tennis shoes huh!
David-that's really cool. Most people who are older are afraid to even touch a computer, hope I'm never like that.
Mel-My goal is to give people things to remember me by when I am gone, preferably funny stories. I'm even willing to make a fool out of myself to provide them.!!
based on your super lengthy entries, have you ever thought of writing a book? if you would have started two years ago you would have completed one by now.
i thinks thats seomthing that will leave a long lasting impression of yourself, it that's what u seek
Enjoyed this immensely!!!!
Great blog.
Winai-You aren't the only person who has said that I need to try to write seriously. I guess if so many people are telling me that, then I need to pay attention.
Marc-Thanks for stopping by. My family is very good fodder for fiction.
What a interesting story, thanks for sharing.
Never apologize for taking care of yourself first!
I have stories on my grandma too. But I can't print them; they are that bad.
myutopia=Thanks for stopping by.
Enemy-Wow! She must have really done some stuff!
My first gynecologist's wife was a shoplifter. They were from Ecuador or someplace like that, but he ended up having to leave the country because she got so out of control. He even tried to tell local shops, "Just add up what she takes and bill me," but they were still calling the cops. That kind of made me laugh and he was a total douchebag so ... well, I feel okay laughing about it.
She really did and no joke. I didn't learn everything until adulthood, but my dad told me some stories when I was a teenager. But in a way, I admire her because she was tough and a survivor in a man's world; however, it isn't in me to be like her.
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