9.29.09

OrangeCafe au laitVanilla shredded wheatWheat pita bread minisHummusOlive oilIndian cornGood n FruityDiet Dr. Pepper Cherry

doggie

Chopper is my Prozac. She makes me laugh every day. Best doggie ever :)

Two questions

What is really meaningful to me in my life? What do I long for?-----------------It seems I've been trying to answer the second one my entire life. I guess I long for meaning. So that means the first question is a mystery still...

Tired

Tired of being my sister's keeper. Hard to explain. If she's found love I am happy for her. I want nothing for for her than to be an independent woman. Can that happen if we are in the same city again?

obit

Waddell, Howard L.

Age 55, died Saturday, February 21, 2009 at the Atrium Medical Center. He was born in Stirrat, West Virginia on April 17, 1953, the son of the late Harold and Sarah Waddell. Howard, the consummate athlete, played and coached softball/baseball for many years, and most recently enjoyed bowling and boating. He will be remembered for his kind heart and sense of humor. He is survived by his wife of 35 years, Betsy (Swope); sons Matthew (Shelby) and Patrick (Keshia); brother Joe Waddell; granddaughter, Kalyn; and step granddaughters Dominique, Jade and Nadia Wells. In addition to his parents he was preceded in death by his sister, Gladyne Smith and his brother, Ostell Smith.

Howard was my uncle. He was married to my mother's sister, my Auntie Girlie. Howard was black and my aunt is white. They were married in 1974, the year I was born, a scant 7 years after interracial marriage was finally legalized. The marriage was pretty scandalous back then - I think my grandparents had a hard time understanding their daughter's choice, but they supported her.

Growing up, I never thought about the fact that my uncle was black. Nor did I think about my two cousins, Matt and later Patrick, being black. Our family photos growing up look like a politically correct episode of Sesame Street, me and my white sisters with our black cousins, all decked out in 70's plaid.

Later I realized we were different, in high school when our school would play my cousins' and no one believed we were related. I liked telling people that Matt and Patrick were my cousins, to see the shock and disbelief on their faces. But I could also sense the disapproval, the distaste, the fear.

At my wedding, at the reception, a redneck business acquaintance that had been invited by my husband's side sidled up to my Uncle Howard and said, "So how do you know the bride?" My Uncle Howard replied, "She's my niece." To which the redneck laughed out loud and said, "Not sure how that's possible." The entire episode got back to my cousin Patrick, who proceeded to go into the men's room and beat the shit out of it, causing a couple hundred dollars worth of damage. I found out about the damage to the men's room that night, compliments of the property manager at the reception, but I didn't learn about the episode that had precipitated it until weeks later. I was, and remain to this day, absolutely horrified. I apologized to my aunt, and to my uncle, but it made me sad. I felt like my uncle and my cousin Patrick withdrew from me after that. I didn't know what else to say. Now I wish I had found a way to say something more.

When I was a kid I remember my mom and my aunt taking me to one of Howard's baseball games. I remember the gray uniforms, the dust being kicked up as my uncle rounded the bases, the cheering of the crowd behind the chain link fence. I was so impressed. I told all of my friends that my Uncle Howard was a professional baseball player. I believed that he was. When people would ask me what team he played for I didn't know, but I would always say the Cincinnati Reds since my dad loved that team.

I also remember one year at our family reunion, when Howard arrived on a motorcycle. I thought that motorcycle was the coolest thing I'd ever seen. My mom got on the back of the motorcycle and went for a ride around the park, and I was so jealous. I wanted to ride that motorcycle with my uncle the baseball player too.

When someone dies, your mind immediately goes to all the good things, and all the bad things. Then I think about how he and my aunt have been fighting for the past few years, how my aunt found out that my Howard's been having an affair for the last few years. How angry she's been about it. How they got in a fight at my sister's wedding because he left early.