Daisy and Sally at their maniacal best. Yes, they are, indeed, evil. And have me thinking of writing a children's book about them.
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I didn't go to San Diego this year for Comic Con. Instead, I took my dad to his family's reunion. I haven't been for the past five years and I have to admit that I was feeling a bit guilty about not being there. As a child, I used to hate going to family reunions. Too much travel, that awkward feeling being around people you only see on an annual basis, and being out of my comfort zone in general. As a young man, I didn't feel I had the time to be bothered with reunions. Girls to date, and friends to hang out with. I went a bit more as a young married man with a family, even though corraling the kids, having to listen to them complain about the travel, and not knowing any of "those people" made it daunting. Couple it with hoping they didn't pee themselves, spill their food, or get into a fight with someone else's kids was deterring, too.
As an older man, I "get it" now. The need for connectedness. Family. History.
My dad was thrilled I'd be able to take him. My mother was recovering from knee replacement surgery and didn't feel like going. My wife stayed with her that day. So I listened to things my father spoke of on the way to Tarkio, MO. Some things were quite enlightening. Other things, such as the different girls he dated, I could've done without. Here he is with his remaining aunts, his mother's sisters. They are, from left to right, Aunt Imogene, Aunt Jane, Aunt Marlene, and Aunt Alice...
They were all the "younger" children of my great-grandmother and great-grandfather, my dad and a couple of his sisters being the same age as a couple of them. My grandmother was the third-born of the family, which I believe was 11 children.
I never met my grandmother, my father's mother. I was struck with a strange feeling as my dad related her passing during this time of year so many years ago. Next year, July 1, 2010 will mark the 70th anniversary of her death. My dad always speaks in whispers about Aunt Marlene(the one directly behind him). Of all the remaining aunts, he says, she looks the way he envisions how his mother would've looked had she lived and aged. Aunt Marlene also named one of her daughters, "Ruth," which was my grandmother's name--her sister's name. Here's my grandmother's resting place...
I've gotten tidbits of my dad's past. My grandfather took off after my grandmother died while she was trying to give birth to a seventh child, leaving six kids(aged 10 to toddlers) to fend for themselves. The town grocer got suspicious after 2 weeks of charges, and none of them for "adult" items such as cigarettes, but only simple items, and contacted the county welfare agents. My Aunt Mabel, the oldest, tried to take care of the others while they were left in a trailer, living on bread, milk, and raw potatos.
Five years ago, Aunt Grace, one of the older "Mutchler" children and sister to my grandmother, described helping another aunt and sister, Alberta, deliver my father behind an old cook stove during a cold February. Aunt Grace claimed that my grandfather had beaten my grandmother, which may have helped to cause her death. She also said that my great-grandmother took the "Worley" children in, having her older children help with the their care, even though she had a house full of kids herself. But my grandfather, ever the one to show me the nature of evil, came for his children with the Social Services Agent. He didn't want them, but he also didn't want Grandmother Mutchler to have them, either. So they were put into the foster care system. Aunt Grace described my father, at the time an 8 year old boy, clinging to Grandmother Mutchler's leg and crying, as he didn't want to leave.
When my father would talk of his childhood in foster care, it included abuse, malnutrition, being treated like slave labor, and being beaten with about anything an adult could get their hands on.
Ghosts...
There were good people in his life, though. Those who did what they could, give what love and encouragement they could. He adored E. A. "Lefty" Davis in Maryville, MO, considering him a "father." Eventually, he ended up in Atchison, KS living with the prominent Miller family, and speaks reverently of the kindnesses given and shown him by Mr. and Mrs. Miller. He has, at times, questioned why God would "allow" all the bad to happen to him. But without those things, and the good, too, he wouldn't have ended up in Atchison. Wouldn't have met my mother. Neither my brother, nor I, would be here.
Aunt Mabel passed in November of 2008. Of the six "Worley" children, only three are left. Here's my Aunt Maxine, with her husband, Uncle Dick...
And this is my Uncle Floyd with his wife, Aunt Shirley...
I'm not sad to have missed Comic Con.
July also marked the anniversary of the passing of my friend, Richard Wilson. A classmate and I made a promise to each other to get together for dinner with our wives. So far we haven't done it. I think it's time we did.
