I mentioned a few weeks ago about the cookout I was basically forced into having at my house for the 4th of July holiday. Well being that my family is quite ‘different’, everyone wanted the cook out to be held on the 5th of July. Go. Figure.  I don’t even bother asking questions, when it comes to some of the decisions my family makes.

So of course a few people had the video cameras in tow. I have a cousin who is a news director at NPR, so she takes her camera wherever she goes. Thankfully, yours truly was not caught on tape. To bad I can’t say the same thing for my poor grandmother. She decided to display her pole dancing skills to everyone at the cook out and now to the whole world.

And people wonder where I get my [fung'ke]‘ness and lack of rhythm from. Just look at some of my family members. Please, try to contain your laughter if you’re at work. And certain people wonder why I never invite friends to family functions. P O N D E R O U S.

Last night I cried but this time I wasn’t alone. On the other end of the phone was one of the most remarkable women I know, my siSTAR and kindred spirit, Pele .  Currently we’re both dealing with a lot of life changes, relationship, health and career-wise. We’re both usually stoic women when it comes to supporting each other. We don’t sugar coat the advise we give each other nor do we patronize each other and tell the other what we think the other wants to hear. I’d like to think that we’re two pretty strong women.

No matter how strong a person you are, everyone eventually reaches their breaking point. Either the emotional or physical stress will take it’s toll on a person eventually. I think that point was last night for each of us. As usual our conversation started out light hearted. She was on the phone while doing her commute in San Francisco and I was relaxing at home. For the past couple of weeks she’s been the most helpful in providing me with alternative health treatments because her ex husband and I share the same issue. Everyday she calls to see how I’m doing and if I’m making any progress. Today was no different. But I could tell she was going through something herself. So we talked about it.

We were both on emotional roller coaster rides due to past/present relationships. By the end of the conversation we were both in tears. Her fellow commuter offered her a napkin from Jack in the Box and I received a hug from my son. We laughed via text message in between tears because we both know that we took off our Super Woman cape for the night and purged emotionally. What’s unfortunate is that we’re on opposite coasts but we try to put in as much phone time as possible to check on each other. I am so thankful to have her in my life! Love ya, Pele! 

Around 2:30 a.m. this morning, my son came into my bedroom to check up on me. He knew before I laid down to go to sleep I wasn’t feeling well. At first he scared the crap out of me because while I was asleep he reached out and touched me on the forehead, so I woke up startled. In his hand he had a cup of apple juice for me. I really didn’t want anything to drink, but I took it just so he would know he was appreciated.

For the record, my son is 9 years old. For the past few weeks he has literally taken care of me. He’s made sure I didn’t have to do anything extra around the house. He’s been a constant fixture in my room and made sure I knew he was there to help me. Today when I woke up, he asked if I needed him to stay at home with me today. For the past two weeks, he hasn’t gone to his day camp and really haven’t had any ‘kiddie’ time with his friends, besides his cousin. He was already dressed, so I knew he was anxious to walk to his camp.

“Of course you can go, Jaden”, is what I told him.

I gave him one of the biggest hugs I think I’ve ever given him. It still amazes me how mature and caring  he is for his age. This boy will give you the shirt off  his back if you needed it. Now, believe me, we have had our moments. They usually happen when he gets a little too smart mouthed. But I can say he gets it honestly.

Most people ask me or assume that my son is spoiled because he’s an only child. Not hardly. He’s far from greedy and rarely asks for anything. For his birthday this past May, I asked him what did he want and he told me just a bike. I asked if that was all he wanted and he said yes. For Christmas, once again I asked him what did he want, and he went online and pulled up a watch that was only $12.00. When he asks for a new video game, he always makes sure he has the money to buy it, another game to take as a trade in, or asks the salesperson if they have a used/cheaper version.

These past few weeks have shown me that everyday my son is growing up, not only physically (at 5′1 & 125 lbs..he definitely isn’t the average 9 yr old) but mentally and becoming more independent. I couldn’t ask for a greater kid!

I detest family gatherings, large or small.

Tidbit #304,394

I detest them even more if they’re being held at my house.

A few weeks ago, my aunt calls me to ask, well more like inform me, that the 5th of July cook out (we never have one on the 4th) would be held at my house this year because her townhouse was too small to hold so many people, and so was her cousin’s house in Virginia. Mind you, when I received this phone call I was in the middle of waiting for a medical diagnosis and wasn’t in the best of spirits. The last thing that was on my mind was a fucking cook out. In her best guilty plea, she reminded me about all of the times it was held at her house and how she would never ask this of me if so many people in my family weren’t coming in from out of town. Also, my house was better suited because of the large patio and backyard area, so 100 people could easily fit.

Yes. 100 people. 100 family members. 85 people who I had no desire to socialize with EVER, especially if I wasn’t feeling well.

Needless to say, I was dreading the whole 4th of July weekend. Of course the weekend arrived quick. I hoped that she would eventually understand that I wasn’t in the best condition to host anything at my house and she would call it off.

That’s called wishful thinking. It works for other people, not me.

As of this past Thursday, my normally quiet 4 bdrm house because a hostel for displaced family members who were too damn cheap to get a hotel room. If I see another fucking air mattress for as long as I live, I’m going to scream! If someone else asks me why is it that my house seems so ‘not lived in’, I might haul off and smack someone. Excuse me for wanting to have ’space’ in my house and not have a bunch of odds & ends, i.e, dust collectors, sitting in every corner.

So here comes Saturday. The day of our cook-out. Thank god for my grandmother and my uncle who came to help out before the crowd arrived. My aunt’s boyfriend was on the grill. Not just any ordinary grill either. This thing had to be attached to the back of his Suburban! The picture below is a smaller version of what he had:

This video reminds me of my mother and her sisters. I remember as a kid, I would ask my mother if that was them all the time!

Those who know my family, know that none of us are not really ‘all there’. Just attempting to describe the various personalities would take a week! From the oldest to the youngest, we’re never short on personality.

One of the highlights of this Thanksgiving was my grandmother coming down to visit. We literally had to bribe her with $$ to get her to visit, b/c she hates the Maryland area. She feels that if she visits that she’ll be held hostage and won’t be allowed to ever go back to NJ, b/c of all of the worrying we do because she’s basically up there by herself now.

I can only take my grandmother in small doses. After a couple of hours, typically, I have to either leave the room she’s in or just tell her to shut-up. The woman will talk your ears off with her complaining, nit-picking and about all of her ailments. This year, she couldn’t stop talking about her close friend, Frank Lucas. Yeah, that Frank Lucas. Mr. American Gangster himself.

See, for the past 8 yrs, Frank Lucas has been my grandmother’s next door neighbor. For the longest, I’ve heard stories about the man in apt. 703 of her senior citizens building. Every time I would go & visit her, Mr. Frank (is what she’d call him) would be sitting in front of the building in his wheel chair smoking a cigar. I’d always politely wave at him or give him a hug. When I had my son with him, he’d give him a $5 bill or a stick of gum. He seemed nice enough to me. I guess I never realized how much of a ‘gangster’ he really was back then, b/c of his present condition after the suffered a stroke a few years back.

Anyways, my grandmother wouldn’t keep quiet about him. Frank this, Frank that. To make matters worst, she wouldn’t shut up during the movie that my mother brought over. Now this is where I introduce the “Amnesiac” aka my Uncle Vinnie. The reason I call him the “Amnesiac” is because about 3 yrs ago, my uncle suffered a brain seizure which in return created a domino effect on a few other medical issues he’s been dealing with, such as kidney failure (he got a new one a few months back) and a tumor on his brain that had to be removed. He’s somewhat fully recovered BUT his memory is shot. If you’ve ever seen the movie, “50 First Dates” with Drew Barrymore & Adam Sandler, he’s somewhat like her, but not as bad. Over the past year his memory has gotten alot better, but it’s still blotchy in some areas.

Anyways, my uncle back in his ‘hay-day’, dabbled in drugs. His drugs of choice were cocaine & heroin. Although growing up, it was supposed to be this huge secret, believe me, I was the nosey kid who knew everything. When I got older, I learned that my uncle was considered a functional addict (he’s been clean for about 15 yrs now). He worked in the medical field at a prominent hospital in NJ, was always receiving awards and praises in the newspapers, but what people outside of the family didn’t know was his ‘issue’.

As my uncle was sitting there watching the movie, bits and pieces of his mental puzzle were being put together. He started talking to my grandmother about the man he referred to as “Frank Lewis” (I don’t know how many times we had to correct him that night) Lucas not Lewis. Lucas not Lewis, was repeated about 10xs. He asked my grandmother if he knew him, and she looked at him like he was crazy. From what my grandmother tells us, my uncle knew the man and his brothers very well growing up in Newark during the 70’s. Frank Lucas’ brothers, “The Country Boys”, basically ran the heroin in Newark during that time, and my uncle back then was a HUGE buyer of their product. He says its what got him through medical school, but I doubt it b/c he was a crappy student.

In any event, it was definitely an interesting after dinner conversation with my Grandmother and my uncle. At one point I had to get up and excuse myself, b/c I couldn’t take any more of my uncle repeating questions after receiving answers to them 15 minutes before. It was hard trying not to laugh, although most of my family members were close to tears during some points in the evening.

The morals of this story? Say no to drugs. It’s ok to tell a grandmother to shut up sometimes and also, every ones family should have an amnesiac in it.