extended family
All about how to stay connected, strengthen ties and talk politics with your big, happy extended family.
Road Show
So here’s the story. I’m cleaning out my mom’s house, she died a few weeks back, and don’t be sad, she was old, like 97, natural causes no Hollywood sad ending here, she had a good life. But she, how do we say, collected things, hoarded, was a pack rat? You know the type, nice person and all, but jeez, find a trash can once in a while.
By bill ribas5 years ago in Families
At Your Place
Dear Loved One, I wish I could see you at your place. I wish I could sit at your kitchen table and talk to you while you do things at the counter. I know I would probably watch you when you weren’t looking. But I wouldn’t be rude about it. I wouldn’t be disrespectful when I watched you. I would just think how wonderful you were, because you are wonderful. I can’t lie to you – I’ve watched you before so I know you are wonderful.
By John Oliver Smith5 years ago in Families
Triple G
Jesse shoved his hand into his cargo-pants pocket before he approached her. It was still there, small and comforting, her birthday gift to him. One year ago, today, Jesse and his great-great-great grandmother surprised each other with identical, small, black notebooks for their shared birthday. He’d been 17. She was still feisty at 97.
By Mary Brotherton5 years ago in Families
Art and Soul
Grandpa passed when I was just five years old. I never knew him well, but Nana always used to tell me stories about his life and the places they would travel around the world. As an artist, grandpa got to live an eccentric life. He indulged frequently in the finer things, like fine wine or the $2 million dollar estate he bought in his 30s.
By Corey LeBlanc5 years ago in Families
Caring for Nan
“Has anyone seen my baby?” cried Nan, hysterically jerking up from her recliner. Looking up from his doodle Jaden closed his book and said lovingly “Yes Nan, she’s sleeping right now and has a clean diaper. If you’d like to nap I can wake you up when she’s hungry.”
By D Williams5 years ago in Families
Hiking with my mother-in-law
Raise your hand if you have dated a male human before! (That was just an illustration. If your hand is up right now you have just made this horribly awkward.) If you have dated a man/boy/male it is highly likely that the single most important relationship in their life is the relationship with their mom. Mommas are a big deal! But for our menfolk, mommas show them exactly what to expect in a woman. They are also (usually) the most consistent source of comfort and structure. Some of you are having flashbacks of those incredible comparative statements “that’s not how my mom makes that” or “my mom never did it that way”… Please understand that their sweet boy brain really isn’t trying to be harmful – they just really like patterns. Regardless, one of the greatest gestures a lady can make is pursuing a relationship with her man’s momma.
By Abigail Freeman 5 years ago in Families
Strange Relatives
A melodic shrill woke me from my sleep. I wasn’t long in bed having just completed a nightshift. I turned onto my back and rubbed my eyes. I turned my head to see my phone lighting up. The melodic shrill was my ringtone. I’d forgotten to put it on vibrate. I grunted and glanced just in time to see it said private number. I shrugged and settled back into my pillows. Barely a minute later the phone started ringing again. I covered my face with a pillows then threw it across the room and grabbed my phone.
By Emma Diane McManus5 years ago in Families
2 am chronicles 2 the electric boogaloo
Hello Brain, we meet again. Reflecting on the last writings of my insomniac mind, I realized I forgot to consider a necessary factor in why I sleep so terribly. My emotional baggage doesn’t help one bit. I’m sorting through it like a never-ending load of dirty underwear and stained shirts. (Trust me, the less you know about the stains the better.)
By Anthony Anthem5 years ago in Families
Uncle Malcolm's Bag
“Jacob… Jacob!” Shit! I sat up and rubbed the grit from my eyes. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep while Cassia was in the pool, not with my phone still open to the e-mail I’d received from my mother. Your great uncle Mack died on Tuesday and you’re his sole beneficiary. Be ready tomorrow at 10 and please wear a tie. Sole beneficiary to what, though? My grandfather’s oldest brother, Malcolm, had been in a nursing home for the last eight years of his life. As far as I knew, he didn’t own anything except a few changes of clothes and an old alarm clock that was only right twice a day. Every year my mother would offer to replace it for his birthday or Christmas, and every year he’d tell her that since his meals were brought to him it didn’t matter if he knew what time it was. He just liked the old clock even if it was broken. It reminded him of the one he had growing up. He always insisted he didn’t care about material things, but he sure would like it if we brought him a hot fudge sundae. We usually did, too, at least up until the last few months when he was barely eating and mostly didn’t recognize us anymore. Or he did, but thought we were my great-grandmother and grandfather, as he remembered them when he was younger. My father had stopped going with us, since he didn’t look like anyone in my mother’s family and his presence seemed to upset Uncle Mack.
By Randi O'Malley Smith5 years ago in Families
