Opulent Radish Cradle

Opulent Radish Cradle

OK now, to the tune of "Bonanza", everybody sing!

Fuck tittyfuck tittyfuck tittyfuck tittyfuck fuck!
Fuck tittyfuck tittyfuck tittyfuck tittyfuck titty fuckfuckfuck!"

Sorry, don't know what came over me there...

Fun afternoon gig in the country east of Lafayette yesterday. Lots of food, the drummers' family all loved us, (and I'd like to love a couple of his cousins, wow...) and we even got an extra $20 each, which of course, went straight into my gas tank.

Also drove a couple miles up the road to where my great-grandmother was born. Somewhere around there, I'll probably never know. They moved around a lot.

I visited my grandfather's grave. He lived with his sister-in-law after his brother's death (he lived with his brother when he moved back to Lafayette after leaving my grandma) and she's buried near him, despite having her name on the stone next to her husband in another cemwtery. Guess she liked my grandfather more.

And I found out, through the help of a very nice guy in the office (who was MUCH more helpful than the prick I dealt with the first time I was there trying to find these people) that right next to his sister-in-law, is his sister who died in 1988. Without a marker. I'm pretty surprised how many people in the family don't have markers (yet are buried right next to people who do) and while in some instances it might just mean they didn't have the money, I think it was mostly choice. My grandfather's sister-in-law paid for those lots the year before my great-aunt died, he also told me, and copied me the burial cards in the office. Excellent service.

So, my great-aunt, my great-grandfather (acorss the cemetery from her), my great-grandmother, both her parents and her grandfather, all are buried without markers. The latter (my ggg-grandfather) is the only one I haven't visited. He's in a cemetery south of Lafayette I haven't been to yet. Hopefully I can go back up in the next couple years and find him, and do some of the other research I want to do.

At another cemetery is my great-granmother's parents, a child in the family without a marker, and her brother and his wife, who do have a stone. It had what appeared to be very fresh decorations. Somebody's been there recently. I got there just as the gates were about to be closed, but they kindly let me have ten minutes. I went right to the spot, despite not having been there in three years. I found everything quickly, which was nice.

The last cemetery I went to is southeast of town. My great-grandmother in an unmarked grave, right next to her son (who died the same year she did, 1961) and the son who my grandfather lived with. My great-uncle Bill lost his first wife when she was 32 and he was my age. I can't fathom that, and one of the few things my Mom remembers about him was how shaken he was by her death even years later after he'd remarried. She has her own stone. He's next to her. his stone also has his second wife's name, without a death date, because she's the one buried near my grandfather.

But when I pulled up I saw something that made me jump out of the car and nearly trip over myself running up there.

Her grave, that she isn't in. There was no grass on it. Somebody is in there.

Her name is still on the stone, but there's a small marker down on the ground. Her son is there. He died last year. He was only abou 61 years old.

Shit. If i'd been on top of things, I could have met him before he died.

I've met exactly one person in this family. Mom hasn't seen her dad since 1960. We had no contact with any of them until a few years ago when I found her first cousin online and went up to Lafayette to visit him. He gave me the flag that was on my grandfather's coffin at his service. He gave me a bible that belonged to him. Several pictures. And my great-grandmother's rosary.

I haven't talked to him in a few years now, though i keep meaning to. I have a folder I need to finish putting together for him, with my info on the family.

And now I see that his brother - my mom's first cousin she never knew - died last year.

It's a lovely place. A simple cemetery, but very well taken care of. The one my gg-grandparents and their son is in is huge, with lots of trees, and stunningly beautiful in a way that you just know is creepy as hell at night. The one my grandfather is in is very, very nice. It's good to go to places that are taken care of. Some of the little cemeteries I've been to (even a couple of the big ones) kinda look like shit.

I have no idea when I'll be able to go back up there. To do everything I want to do there and in the towns half an hour away, I'd need two weekdays and a motel room. Can't do it on weekends. Too much courthouse stuff to get at. so it's probably not going to happen for a while. Oh well. I'll shift back to the relatives I can research back in the Cincy area now that I'm moving there.

But these people, my grandfather's family, are the ones that made me get into this to begin with. So I'll be thinking about this a lot, and I have to send W that folder and get bak in contact with him soon.

I saw Amanda an hour ago. She seems happy with her boyfriend, though she let out a trace of cynicism. she's still wondering if it will work, but it's gone very well for her in the past week. I'm happy for her. I'm happy that she's happy, and I hope that she continues to be with whatever guy she's with.

You know, just another of those "horrible" thoughts I have about women. What a rotten PRICKFUCK I am. Caring about her happiness that way. I really should be punished, eh?

I'm hoping to leave around noon tomorrow. Lots of shit to do, but I don't feel too pressured about it. I'm calling the cable company after I send this and get shit done there, though I'm going to try to keep my connection til morning so I can hit those torrent sites one more time. Hey, I've got shit to download and not actually getting around to listening to for a year, dammit.

Had a very nice visit with Stone last night on the way back home. Was there until 1AM. Good to see you again, man. Watch out for that baby Jesus, dude. I hear he can fuck up Martha Stewart's hair from a distance of 30 yards.

Love,
Dougie