New Morning

New Morning

Took a long time to go to sleep. I woke up to the radio, on some godawful '80s station. Cheezoid one-dimensional tales of heartbreak.

I listened to it for at least 15 minutes.

As much as I'd like to pretend otherwise, I can be quite the maudlin, over-sentimental cheesehead. I suppose that happens when somebody works their way into your head and heart. Kinda hard to avoid. And maybe you shouldn't avoid it.

But I finally turned it off and put on some Dylan. He does this kind of thing a lot better. He can make me smile too.

Last night was a bad ending to an otherwise very good day. I stayed with my parents after the gig, got some reasonable sleep, woke up and made some gumbo for our lunch. We ate, watched Ghostbusters ("You're right, no human being would stack books that way.") and I took off to a nearby cemetery with the video camera to do some recording.

Whoever gets the joy of viewing this video later will be treated to my magnificent camera work and startingly eloquent narration. In other words, it's kinda ridiculous, but at least people will know where these graves are at. I don't spare a lot of details. I just film them stupidly.

Mom followed me to another cemetery in Greentown. Mostly this is my dad's side, but my aunt Nancy is there too. She died a couple years ago (only 52 years old) and was briefly married to my mom's brother. I've got a cousin from them, and though she was only married to him for about a year, she often came to our Christmas functions with cookies and pie, and I can't think of a single bad thing to say about her. She's buried next to her sister's family in the newest part of the cemetery.

I got that on tape, and plenty on Dad's side too. My great-grandfather was the first of our name in the area, having moved from south of Indianapolis in the 1880s. There's a lot of people around there with the same last name as me, but very few of them are related in any way I know about.

So I should have expected what came next.

it's pretty funny. My grandfather's sister married a man named Howell, and they are buried next to another of Dad's aunts and uncles. That name is in other places in the cemetery, including the stone of a couple who are still alive (I see lots of stones with no death dates anymore, purchased years in advance by people wanting to spare their children all that extra work upon their deaths, and I have a ton of respect for these people and hope to do so myself) the man having the same name as a cousin Dad told me about. In fact...hey...that's the name on the mailbox across the street. I knew they were there, but I hadn't connected the first name. I saw an old white-haired lady in the driveway and went over for a visit.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I think your husband might be a relation of my father's."

Turns out that there are THREE separate families of that name in the area, they have no connection that any of them know of.

Her husband came out. He has the same first and last name as my Dad's cousin, and even has a brother of the same name as that cousin's brother. He's also 26 years older and moved here from Missouri. Not the guy I thought he was. But the great-uncle in my family is buried a hundred yards from his house.

Funny world, eh?

They were a very nice couple, talked to me for 15 minutes, very helpful. The lady brought out a local history book, and I'll need to go back to their library and copy three pages about another family connected to mine, my great-aunt's husband and his family. A cousin from that end was with me the last time I was in that cemetery, and showed me around. The book has a very nice amount of detail. My great-aunt is still alive there in town. I saw her at Christmas. When I said her name, this lady with the book told me she knew her.

Then I told her my last name, and she started in on people she knew. Many of whom I don't think are family. But then she stopped. "Hmmm, you know, I bet it's been 50 years ago, but I remember being at a dance near here, and there were these two boys by that name there. Really nice boys. Really cute. Their names were Neil and John."

My uncles.

"Neil in particular was so cute, so nice."

My Uncle Neil currently is a bald toothless dirty old man who collects mannequins, has about 300 birds caged up in his garage, talks about how you better wash your hands before you piss after eating hot peppers, makes lewd comments to other 75-year olds, and generally is regarded in our family as being two degrees short of completely insane. I want to be just like him when I grow up, by the way.

Fun trip to Greentown.

Drove into Kokomo, and to another cemetery on the south side, where another great-aunt is buried. Wasn't there long before heading down 31 back home. I was hungry, so before leaving town I stopped at Lewis Black's favorite health club and got some pancakes. But I didn't drink the boysenberry. It's been a long time since I ate at an IHOP, but Uncle Lew is right - no matter how much you weigh, there is always somebody there who weighs 350 pounds more than you ever will. A giant-balloon guy with a buzz cut was sitting alone at a table with 47 pounds of pancakes. I think that was his appetizer. I'm hoping to see Lewis next month in Cincy. God, I love him.

A good day. I came home and had it shattered with one simple email, but I'll get over it. But I really am gonna miss you, babe. It looks like you're starting over. Strike another match. I only hope the best for you. The things you said to me, the insights you shared, the way you made me laugh and feel, those things meant a lot to me. I hope I gave back even half of what you gave to me. Thank you. Be well.

Love,
Dougie