extended family
All about how to stay connected, strengthen ties and talk politics with your big, happy extended family.
Beppe
I awoke to the sound of many footsteps down the corridor outside my room. As my eyes came into focus, my brain attempted to process the unusual number of feet in our house. My heart kicked into action before my brain. It thumped against my chest and propelled me up onto my feet.
By Stephen Johansson 5 years ago in Families
The Legacy
The phone call woke her up at 2:17 AM. She knew exactly what time it was because she glared at the clock thinking, ‘Who could possibly want to talk at 2:17 AM?’ Romy didn’t have many friends or family, but she knew a call in the middle of the night never boded well.
By Kaitlin Strathdee5 years ago in Families
Trapped Like Mice
TRAPPED, LIKE MICE My life had turned into a big fat zero. I was out of work. I had put my mother into a nursing home because I was unable or didn’t want to handle the responsibility of taking care of her. Bill collectors had me on their speed dial, and I continued to ignore their calls. Worst of all, I was beginning to get the small-town blues. I didn’t want to remain in Newberry for the rest of my life. I felt trapped, frightened, helpless, and desperate. When a man finds himself in a desperate situation, logic and good reasoning are the first things to flee.
By James Myers5 years ago in Families
You Did What?
When I answered my phone, my cousin’s panicked voice cut me off before I could say a word. “Shawn, you gotta help me! Oh my, God, Shawn! I’m in so much trouble! You gotta help me, Cuz! I’ve really messed up now! Oh my, God, I can’t believe it! You gotta help me!”
By LaShawn Neighbors5 years ago in Families
Las Vegas Adventures
My uncle, Lou Hickock, loved Las Vegas and visited twice a year from 1996 through 2017. He loved the slots. After staying at the Aladdin, the first year, he stayed at the Imperial Palace in 1998 after they imploded the Aladdin. In later years, he enjoyed staying at the Plaza and the Four Queens.
By PEGGY PLACE5 years ago in Families
Thank You Aunt Bea
My name is Jemma and I am a 23-year-old recent graduate from university. First, let me tell you that graduating during a pandemic and trying to find a job has not been fun, however, that is not the story I want tell. I am going to tell you a story about my Aunt Beatrice, who was enduringly called Bea. My Aunt was a vivacious, beautiful woman. She was the type of person that people say is beautiful inside and out. Everywhere she went people wanted to get to know her because she brought such positivity, fun and happiness. I remember as a young girl walking down the street and she floated. The sun envied her radiance as she was so bright and shined. My mother once told me that she wished she could bottle the beauty that was my Aunt and sprinkle it when needed in life, especially when life got hard.
By Jacqeline Jodoin5 years ago in Families
OLD GRAY HAIR
a story by Nichelle S. Montgomery I hate funerals. My Uncle Rickey was the best though. So, I had to come. He was a jolly, burly, black man, whose laugh always sounded like he was trying to get something out. It was infectious. I remember when I was a little girl. I use to climb up on his shoulder and pull out his gray hairs. For each gray hair I pulled, he gave me a quarter. So, I just pulled enough so I could buy some ice cream for me and my cousins, Annie and Willie. He use to laugh and say, “Little bits” I’m gonna be bald by the time you’re done. Even though my name is Letrice, he never called me that. Most people called me Leti, but not him. I was his “Little bits”. While I was busy pulling gray hairs, he would read me his stories he kept in his little Black Book. The stories were short, but funny. Uncle Rickey loved reading them to me. We would laugh and I could tell that time we spent together every weekend really made his day. I loved it too. It was like that for years, until all his hair went gray.
By Nichelle S. Montgomery5 years ago in Families
Compound
COMPOUND When the choir finished the last chant, and all singers descended from the stalls under the great organ, Philip closed his music folio, climbed down backwards from his high seat, and came around the screen. One singer was left. He could see the others as they opened the sacristy door and disappeared, one after the other, chatting and laughing although they were tired … and probably hoarse. He had played hard that day, and the choir master pushed them all relentlessly. Now they were gone; all except this woman whose face he could not remember.
By Rosanne Dingli5 years ago in Families
Empty Notebook, Heavy Box
The box had been in the corner of her sparsely furnished living room for weeks. Until today it had rested unopened, a constant reminder of her loss. Today she had carved out time to look at its contents and accept the reality it symbolized. Her uncle was gone. The one she had relied on for laughter, encouragement, inspiration had departed. He was no longer answering her calls or sending her notes. He was no longer filling her life with laughter and gentle teasing. Where his voice had spoken into her life now there was only bone chilling deep silence. Perhaps opening the box would somehow conjure his lively spirit. That might be a mistake. It would be an ornery spirit, one that would likely turn lights on or carry out pranks to keep her on her toes.
By Amy Spiker5 years ago in Families
