My Uncle Gene

I got bad news this week. My uncle Gene died in Guatamala.

Now, it's a bit complicated. See, my father was the eldest of twelve children, nine of them boys. Large family, yes. Gene was one of the children toward the younger end. For that reason, I didn't know Gene very well, but, you know, he was still a person I really identified with quickly.

Partly, it was because he was funny. Gene could crack me up. There was a sense of humor, sarcastic, that runs through my family. My father had it and Gene had it in spades.

For instance, much of his humor stemmed around food, a particular favorite of Gene's. He told me that, when he was a kid, he didn't know that there was such a thing as unburned toast. He was not an early riser (a trait I understand) and, when he got up, most of his siblings had generally already made themselves breakfast. If anyone had burnt the toast, they'd save it and tell him when he got there, "Here, Gene, I made this just for you."

Gene told me once he joined the Navy because you could get seconds.

Gene was a genius on one topic, an almost quintessential example of someone who excelled at one thing but wasn't necessarily an expert otherwise. What was his specialty? Energy, specific nuclear energy. He was a genius. In college, I took nuclear physics just so I could understand a fraction of what he'd send me in letters. Unfortunately, it didn't help as much as I hoped. He was still beyond me.

A decade or two ago, he went to South America. I didn't hear the reason directly, only second-hand and I never entirely understood why he went there. But none of us heard from him for years, decades.

Unfortunately, I don't know if we'll ever really know why he went there, what he found there, or what happened to him. I'm grateful to the people who found him, and got him help, but it was too late and he died of bronchitis/pneumonia the next day. We knew nothing of this until the Embassy of Guatamala called us.

I've missed Gene a long time, but I always hoped there would be other chances to talk to my charming, my irreverent, my genius uncle Gene. I grieve his passing.

We love you, Gene.

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Too Much Family...and Not Enough

I’m out of town for the weekend to go to my husband’s family reunion. I haven’t entirely decided how I feel about that.

Don’t get me wrong. Lee has a great family, friendly, inviting, quirky. All the things I like in people. But, there’s a LOT of them. Lee’s grandfather had ten sisters and they mostly live in close proximity so family events are well populated. I know most of them and like them. I love Lee’s grandparents unreservedly. They’re good people.

But I’m not a party person and that’s a lot of humanity. Very loud humanity. And that’s just the reunion itself. We’ll be staying with Lee’s grandparents who generously share with all of us, but that means 12 people in a house about the size of my living room. And one bathroom. That should be interesting.

But there’s another aspect that makes me quite sad. Lee’s great-grandmother (on the other side) used to live within an hour of our reunion spot and, a little less than two years ago, she died. I can’t remember going to a reunion where a visit to Grandmother Atha wasn’t part of it, even when I was brought along before I was even part of the family. She missed seeing Roxy, even hearing about Roxy’s forthcoming birth, and that makes me sad. She died feeling alone and didn’t tell us what was wrong (pancreatic cancer). We only found out after she died. She was a resilient, independent woman. I loved her very much.

She will definitely be missed.

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Overstaying a Welcome

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I wish I could write something clever today, but I'm a little drained. So, here's a bonus lesson learned.

Last summer, my husband and I (with the two youngest) drove up to Kansas to help a cyberfriend move. The story on why our help was needed was long, but the need existed. We drove up Friday night, moved her Saturday and planned to leave no later than Tuesday, but we were coming up on the Fourth of July weekend and were invited to stay through Saturday.

It was a mistake. Staying with people you don't have much in common with for days on end: uncomfortable for everyone. They were nice. We tried to be the same, but it had an adverse effect on our relationship. Pity.

I think this can happen in families, too. There's nothing wrong with having your mom come down for a couple of months after your baby is born if that's the level of relationship you have. But if it's not, no one will end up happier. Instead, one or both will end up resentful or angry - hardly healthy for the long haul.

If you're visiting your old home town and staying with your mother, it might work to stay for a week or two - you'll be seeing old friends and not dependent on your parents for all of your entertainment. When I was married to my first husband, I would frequently go to his home town. He'd wander off to visit his own friends and haunts and I was left alone with his mother, a woman who I had nothing in common with. Both of us found the visits irksome.

But, if the relationship is uncertain or not close, days quickly become oppressive and everyone ends up uncomfortable and awkward, even if everyone has done their best.

That doesn't mean you can't visit people you care about, even if you've grown apart, but I can't but recommend leavening the length of time appropriately. Understaying a welcome is often far more pleasant (and far more conducive to the long term relationship) to overstaying.

The sister I'm closest to is coming in August for a week. I love her dearly and we have tons in common. She's staying for a week and I think that's just about perfect, especially since my kids adore her and my husband thinks she's great.

A visit in small doses, doses appropriate to the relationship, I think that's what works the best.

Now, if I could just calculate those appropriately...

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