Friday, August 30, 2013


Earlier this year my 90+ grandmother finally expired.

It was odd…I have known this woman for my entire life and I felt nothing for her crossing.
Oh I felt bad for one of my surviving uncles but that was all.

See this lady was one of the most selfish, self centered, manipulating woman I ever met.
We did not get along and I did not like her very much. I felt sorry for her

When my father was growing up they ate fried baloney for supper (which aint half bad) just one slice each and maybe some potatoes and she bought herself fur coats.

When my dad went into the service he had a sweet ford mustang that he had restored himself. It purred for him (which is odd for a horse I guess). He had instructed his younger brother to go out and just start it once a week and he could drive it occasionally to keep everything all lubricated and running.
He came back from his tour he found a seized rusted engine waiting for him. He then found out that his mother had insisted that his brother not touch the car for no reason whatsoever.
Just because she could.

See she never really liked my dad very much. He was one for 4 boys and he was the only one of the 4 that would stand up to his mother. Not in the hoodlum, leather jacket “rebel without a clue” kind of way but in the “why?” kind of way.
“We need to go left” – “why?”
“We need to hurry.” – “Why?”
“Do not do that. “ – “why”
He always questioned her judgment and when he found flaw with it he used his own and she did not like that.

You get the idea.

I guess she had bought her first husband, my dads dad, a shotgun at one point.
My dad and his dad would go out hunting frequently before his passing. After his dad died the gun sat in a closet collecting dust.
At one point my dad retrieved the shotgun.
He did not do it secretly, he let everyone know what he was doing and why.
Since no one else was a hunter in the family, no one protested.
My dad has passed away and I now have the shotgun. I wanted it as a reminder of him. I’m not much of a hunter but it is pretty and it was his and well, it reminds me of him.

Then this lady starts hounding first my mother, then me to return to her this shotgun.

Paraphrased conversation:
“You live in a rest home and you are blind and arthritic and do not hunt. This shotgun was my father’s while I was growing up. For my entire life I have only known this as my dad’s shotgun. Why, after all this time, are you demanding I give you my dad’s shotgun?”

Verbatim response:
“I want to keep it in the family.”

That hurt me enough that I never spoke to her again. I am my father’s son. Her son’s direct blood relation and yet that’s not family enough for her.

She went as far to inform my sister that I was out of her will because I refused to give her this shotgun.

I am ok with that.

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Thrill me...dripsome brain droppings here.