extended family
All about how to stay connected, strengthen ties and talk politics with your big, happy extended family.
The Notebook
She sat in the bright foyer of the hotel, a cup of deliciously fragrant coffee on the low marble table, steam rising in tendrils then slowly dissipating into the hurried New York atmosphere. Even in this sparsely furnished space, elegant and simple, purposefully created to provide a moment of serenity, the energy of the city was palpable.
By Sonya Conway5 years ago in Families
I Know What To Do
"Okay, I'm fairly sure I know what to do, at least." The check rippled slightly in my hand as I looked at it, my hand trembling as I sent the email to my former ninth grade English teacher. The first two checks had been shredded weeks ago, and several emails ensued. Each email from me contained a grateful insistence that I couldn't take her money, and each email from her repeated a graceful insistence that her intentions were purely kind, and that I owed her nothing.
By Marcus Mebes5 years ago in Families
When Only God Can Save You
Rain battered the roof of the little house. The wind howled at the eaves like an animal out in the storm. Daddy and Dennis were watching something on the television before the storm knocked out the antenna. Momma was in the kitchen finishing the supper dishes and Richard was probably in his room. Now there was nothing but snow on the TV. Golf ball size hail pounded the roof. Daddy watched the storm through the front windows.
By Pamela Styles5 years ago in Families
Great Uncle Claude's
The last place that Catlin wanted to be that Saturday was in the stuffy attic of her great uncle’s farmhouse. She let out a big sigh and lifted another box off the ground, moving it in to the light. Her father walked past her and patted her shoulder, smiling down at her. She scowled back at him and returned her attention to the box. Her Great Uncle Claude had been something of a godfather to her, though her family wasn’t particularly religious. He was present at all the important moments of her life, her first birthday, her first day of school, her first driver’s test – which she had failed, and he had confided that he too had failed his first attempt. And then he’d let her drive his brand new V8 Camaro to the beach and back as a show of confidence in her ability. Catlin had secretly hoped that Claude would be around to walk her down the aisle alongside her father. But that was a dream she’d let go of six months ago when Claude had succumbed to his questionable lifestyle choices, dying of a heart attack at the age of 68.
By Lauren Penfound5 years ago in Families
A Gate to the Past
A Gate to the Past The call came before sunrise. Those are the calls you dread. You hope it’s a wrong number but fear the worst: Maybe one of your kids died in a fiery crash or an old friend’s in the emergency room. Or, if you’re lucky, it’s just one of your ex-wives wanting to get back together for a second try.
By John Little5 years ago in Families
The Matriarch's Notebook
Pages faded gold, splayed, spewing from its torn black cover, sprawled forgotten on a dust heap in the far corner of the garret, it lay barely visible in the growing shadows of sundown. How odd, I thought, to find this small but unsightly mess in an otherwise pristine, perfectly appointed house, staged for sale; an oversight I guessed by that ambitious realtor who had seen to every other detail with annoying gusto. Drawn to the curved bay windows overlooking the street 3 stories below, I knelt on the century old bench. Oh, what people might have seen from this perch a hundred years ago when the house was first built, by the pretentious looking people whose portraits still hung in its marbled foyer. My late, very single father, estranged from his family for most of his life, and all of mine, never spoke of them. Though a few of those immortalized bore maybe the slightest of resemblances to either of us, from my point of view, they may as well have been Martians. Turning to sit, I realized that this garret was likely built and outfitted for the servants of the house, simply, elegantly, cozily, nestled in its eaves. My eyes were drawn along the wall of fresh pink paint and then back to the annoying corner debris, probably left for removal when the faded floral carpeting was replaced with something far more modern. With idle curiosity, I decided to take a look at the discarded notebook which when shaken free of dust and wood chips, appeared to be an old journal with curled, fragile fading pages of loopy handwriting. Scanning a few, I noticed that most entries ended “Yours, Judith.” Judith. Judith? Had I not seen that name in the portrait gallery below? Intriguing! As I hurried down the winding stairways to each landing,I was careful with my new prize, which moments before had been trash. The steps ended at the foyer with its glistening marble floor, and vast gallery of family portraits. Ok, so which of you chic, bejeweled, coiffed ladies might be Judith?
By Rosanna Pittella5 years ago in Families
Bob's Your Uncle
“There’s a lot of talk and questions out there about Bit-$-Coin,” Joe said, and signaled for the usual glass of wine from the bar by raising one finger. It was Friday night. He loosened his necktie and unbuttoned the neck of his crisp white shirt.
By Kay Burnett5 years ago in Families
The Gift
THE GIFT The call came before sunrise. Those are the calls you dread. You hope it’s a wrong number but fear the worst: Maybe one of your kids died in a fiery crash or an old friend’s in the emergency room. Or if you’re lucky, it’s just one of your ex-wives wanting to get back together for a second try.
By John Little5 years ago in Families
Penniless
“Where is the key?” Myrtle looked at her older sister as she approached the door. “I have it here. Her friend, Karen I believe is the name, sent it to me yesterday.” Bertha responded as she rummaged in her bag for the key. “Here it is. Hope this doesn’t take too long.”
By Joyce Tallman5 years ago in Families
Pop's Little Black Book
After the last mourner had left the wake, Kellee knew it was time to tearfully go through the remnants of two lives that had spent over fifty years together. There wasn’t much, as Pops and Gran had been quite frugal. I guess growing up during the depression had instilled in them to hold on to every dollar. They lived simply and may not have appeared to have much, but they were rich in Love and Family.
By Joyce Schwartz5 years ago in Families
