Look What The Dog Drug In...

I drove up to the mountains. Fortunately, my Mom had my back. When I said I HAVE to go to the mountains to see Connie for some reason, and would she come with?...She took a day off and we went to the mountains, together.



Normally, when the dirt turned red I would get very excited. I remember the first time I went there. We rounded a corner (after driving for what seemed 2,000 days ;) and the dirt had turned RED! I have no clue why it struck me the way it did. But it always did...and I would always get high on life, when I saw the dirt turn red.



So, Mom and I are driving. We're talking about Connie, and what to do with Auntie Kay and Uncle Jim, and my dreams of Roy... and the dirt turns red. I felt a lump in my stomach, and another rise to my throat.... What was going on here??



What WAS going on here?...



We drove to Connie's house. We had to turn at the dirt road where my Grandpa's drive was, in order to get there. Memories indeed. I only slowed for a minute to look, and then we pulled up a little further, and parked at Connie's. I felt weird, a little confused. Connie's house and yard were unfathomable. It had always been no more than a shack, their home, but taken halfway decent care of. Now, the stairs leading to the front door where rotted away. Garbage filled every piece of land, broken up only by two trailers (campers?). I knocked on the front door of the decrepit old house. The sound of many small dogs could be heard. Mildred (Connie's Mom) opened the door. When she saw it was me, she started to cry... "Oh Melody!", she wept. "God bless you! God bless you for coming!" The house smelled putrid. Floor boards were missing. A portion of the roof opened to the sky. No less than eight small dogs running...barking...crapping... It was obviously unfit to live in. Mildred would hug, and hug Mom and I. Mom and I would give each other glances, which spoke volumes between just the two of us. Mildred was very apparently "off". She spoke of losing her beloved husband Larry, and rambled on and on. I found myself almost afraid to ask were Connie was, but I finally would. ..

Mildred told me to go to the trailer (camper?) closest to the house. Mom followed. We knocked, and knocked...and knocked some more, on what there was remaining of a rusted, dented door that appeared to have been kicked in (maybe on more than one or two occasions). Connie finally came to the door. She cried when she answered and saw us, and believe me, so did we...



No, no, we didn't want to go inside, but graciously thanked her for the offer. We went to the watering hole nearby instead. It would be our treat, we insisted. She caught us up on everything... well, almost everything. We drank, and laughed...and she drank, and drank, and drank... and chain smoked. It broke my heart to see her this way. Almost all of her teeth were rotted, with big black holes in what remained. She was so dirty.... just an awful wreck in general. She admitted the meth and alcohol had really taken their toll.

OMG! So this is why I was here, to help an old friend...but more important even, was when she told me about her teen son. She called him her baby...and he was headed in a bad, bad direction, with her in no condition to help. She had already had her two daughters taken away. OMG..What to do....what to do.... let me think... what to do....?

We went back to her "house" eventually. She went inside her trailer briefly, long enough for us to hear a man yell at her and ask her where she had been. Lot's of cussing, and verbal abuse... He would be the first to come out. He eyeballed Mom and I very suspiciously... I moved closer to introduce myself. He was a disgusting, dis-shoveled, smelly, drunken sight. He would hear nothing I said, and oh, he was livid we were there!! "Who are you? What the hell are you doing here?" he'd demand, over and over. Connie would come out and try to come to our defense. Fortunately he told me to move my car so he could leave. I was more than happy to oblige. I backed out to the dirt road, and he tore off in his beat up pick up...kicking up a cloud of red dirt, and shaking his fist at us.

Connie walked down to the car to meet us... I guess Mom and I had stayed there for a while, not driving back up their drive.

Seriously, Mom and I are sitting there in the idling car, trying to gather our senses. We're both trying to absorb everything that's happened. Such an eerie feeling surrounding us...

"You're not leaving yet, are you?", Connie asks. "Please don't leave yet. I want you to meet my son.".... "We're not leaving yet." I assured her, although it was getting dark now. Just then, Connie's sister, Sharon, drove up behind us. She squeezed around my car and stopped in front of us on the little dirt road. She recognized us immediately, and jumped out of her truck to greet us. Hugs all around...and when she smiled, her teeth would resemble Connie's, maybe worse...if that were possible... "Come inside!" she would insist. "Don't go yet!" But it was such a beautiful evening there, under the pine trees... we would convince them to hang out there a little while and talk, before we headed back home. And so we would. We sat on the tail gate of Sharon's truck. They would share cheap whisky from out of a plastic jug. We would laugh and walk down memory lane together. Memories of another time, when we were young together... Memories of a better time, the best Connie said she ever could remember in her whole life.

It would grow dark. Only our headlights lit up the pine trees, each others faces, and the small dirt road... Eventually Connie's son would appear, and we introduced ourselves. I reached to shake his hand and he would hesitantly raise his in return, keeping his eyes on the ground the entire time. Such a handsome young man. Oh, if only I could figure out what to do. I just needed some time....

What to do Dear Lord?? What to do?? I felt increasingly like I was going to be sick. I had a feeling of panic. It was unexplainable. My Mom would hold my hand. I knew I was called there for a reason...But what? What to do?...

"Connie, would you like to come stay with me for a few days? There's plenty of room! I'd like you to come too!" I told her son. "Really, it would be so great! I could come next week and pick you up. Of course I'd bring you back." Her son seemed so excited by this offer. Shocked almost, like it wasn't real. He kept asking "Really, really?" Really, really, I told him. Connie seemed hesitant at first, almost nervous. I decided it was probably because of the creep she was living with.

"Who the hell is he?" I'd asked earlier, after he'd made his threatening departure. Kinda a boyfriend she had told us. "Why are you taking shit off of him, Connie? He's abusive...right?" She would have no good excuse, but something told me it had to do with the drugs...and poverty...and desperation. So sad! And the drifting smell from the garbage kept making it's way to my nostrils.... The panic increased. Such an odd unsettling feeling...

Eventually Connie agreed to come. I would come back in one week and pick them up. If all went well, maybe her son could stay with us for summer vacation, at least a month or two.

"It'll be like old times, Connie! I have a house full of kids, and my son's not much younger than yours. It would be great!" In my mind I'm thinking of what I could do to help while she was there. Perhaps rehab through social services? I could keep her son for a while?? I didn't know for sure what I was doing. I just knew I had to do SOMETHING!

Soon the son left, and Connie would excuse herself to go into the house for a minute. Sharon wasted no time... She came and sat next to me, looking me in the eyes.... "So, did you hear about all the excitement we've had here in the last couple of days?" she asks. Why, no I hadn't. Although I did have a recollection of the bartender at the watering hole discussing something that had gone down...discussing it with locals. "What's that?" I asked.

Sick...sick...I'm feeling sick...

"Well, you know Stepenwolf, right?" she begins. Of course I knew Stepenwolf. Connie had gotten him years ago. Such a devoted dog. A beautiful wolf. I was in awe of him, and his blue eyes... "Well," she continues... "Just the other night Stepenwolf drug a bag home. We didn't know where it came from. He just kept dragging it closer and closer." I'm like, Uh Huh.... So she goes on to tell us that he didn't want them to come near the bag. But finally they got him away. Inside the bag, there would be... a dead baby... A DEAD BABY!!! Umbilical cord still attached...wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a plastic bag. It was covered with dirt. Obviously he had dug it up before he brought it home. It was buried alive."

O.K.... What are you telling me??? What?? OMG...a baby?? A BABY? I'm dizzy. I'm sick to my stomach. I'm beginning to cry...

"I'm surprised the Sheriffs aren't here now. They've been swarming the place. Come from all over they have...and reporters too. You didn't know?"

NO I didn't know... did I? No! I didn't know this. What?? What are you telling me?... It's too much to absorb. Just too much...

I see Connie making her way back down to the road. Mom and I are just shaking our heads. We're beside ourselves...our brains can't catch up with our emotions. Connie joins us. "I was just telling them about the baby." says Sharon, to bring Connie up to speed. "Oh yeah,", Connie says. "It was really freaky!" ..."Ummm, is that what they were talking about in the bar?" I ask. Connie confirms. "They found where it was buried right there." Sharon points to the pine trees, off the side of the road... not twenty feet in front of us... "They had it taped off but took it down this morning." I had a million questions. I was stricken with sadness. Confused....so confused. I had to go. I was mortified by the news...

We said our good byes. I promised I would be back next week to pick up Connie and her son. I gave them my phone number (although they hadn't had a phone for as long as I had known them). I made them promise to call me if they needed anything before I returned. If they needed anything...ever.

Such a long drive home.... such a long, long drive. Mom trying to sooth me...me freaking out... both of us trying to make sense of something that could not be made sense of...

So, a couple of days later, I get a phone call. I didn't know who it was at first. "It's Sharon.", she said. "Connie's sister, Sharon." Oh, of course! Sharon! "I'm sorry Sharon, I didn't recognize you at first! Is everything alright?"

Panic, panic....I feel panic...

"You know the baby Stepenwolf drug to the house?" Um, yes I did. "Well... it was Connie's baby. They've taken her to jail." What? WHAT? "Can you still come take her son for a while? Social services was here and they want to take him. But I told them about you. Do you have a pen? This lady wants you to call her. You have to call her right away though."

I don't remember the rest of the conversation. Of course I would call the Social Worker. I would end up with Connie's son... at least for a while...

As for me, ... I would be left to wonder...and wonder... If I'd only gone when I'd first been warned... If I'd only answered my calling sooner...If I'd only.... if only...

I still have nightmares from time to time...nightmares of a baby crying..and crying...and of Auntie Kay swinging her crystal...swinging her crystal and saying, "Get the baby"...and of my dreams of Grandpa Roy, saying "Go see Connie now. Now!"... But I went to late...and in my head, there are times, like right now writing this, I can still hear crying...

In prison, still tonight, and for the rest of her life, is Connie... I wonder... does she hear the crying too?...

Out With The Old, Out With The New...

I can't even tell you how hard it was to watch Auntie Kay and Uncle Jim get older. Literally, it was heart wrenching... They were so proud...especially Uncle Jim. He just wanted his whole life to take of his bride... and such a good job he did. Better than we could have even guessed...but that is for another blog entry...

I would go by and check on them regularly. My Mom would too. But it was becoming all to clear that an intervention would have to...have too. I think they knew, and Uncle Jim would become more apprehensive of my visits. They so wanted to remain independent...I so understood... But he would suffer a breathing problem, and she would have a serious fall, breaking her hip... I drove Uncle Jim to the hospital to get Auntie Kay...and took them both home... Oh, how I prayed for the right words...

Auntie Kay was very wound up that night though. She was in a wheelchair, and insisted I take her to the table...THEE TABLE...and so I did...

She sat in front of the musty Ouija board and moved the movey thing up and down and here and there and up again..."But, what about the baby?", she asked, lighting the candle. But I didn't know what baby. What baby? I had been wanting a baby....so bad...but there would be no baby for me. What baby?

"Go get the baby.", Auntie Kay said..."Hurry to get the baby!'...The movey thing rushed from one side of the table to the other... It would fall on the letters: b a b y c r i e s...m e l o d y g e t b a b y...

Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead...

Connie would turn out be a very good friend, indeed! A couple of times in following summers my Mom went and picked her up and she came to visit me in the "city"...at least to her it was the city. I would also get dropped off to spend some time with her in the country. By then my Dad had remarried, and I didn't hear from him so much. He had once picked me up about once a month and taken me to stay in the mountains for the weekend. Usually, he would have a lady friend with him. But once he remarried, I didn't get invited anymore.

So one summer, I'm staying with Connie for a few days. I'm sitting in her kitchen and looking out over my Grandpa's yard. It was a very emotional feeling. I had called my Dad on many occasions, but I didn't know if he ever got the message, so when I was there, I didn't want to go over to the house since I hadn't heard from him. I didn't want to be a bother. Anyway, so I'm sitting looking out the window and all of a sudden I see a young teen looking guy come out back and start raking the pine needles. What?? "Who's that?", I asked Connie. "Oh, that's your new brother Mark. It's your Dad's wife's son." Oh.... I see.... Out there raking my pine needles??? What?? So, I head outside to introduce myself. "Hi!", I say. He looks up, kind of confused and says finally, "Uh, Hi!". "What's your name?, I ask. "Uh...Mark", he informs. "Well, hi Mark! My name's Melody and I guess I'm your sister." Well, he was as dumbfounded as any person could be! I guess he didn't realize my Dad had a daughter. Even after I explained it he still kept trying to figure out how he had a sister...

Mark and I talk for quite a while. I like him very much. He invites me to come over to the yard...imagine that!! He invites ME to come over to the yard. Whatever... We laughed and enjoyed each others company. I found an extra rake and we worked on the pine needles together. Eventually he wants to take me inside and introduce me to his Mom. My Dad wasn't home at the time. So...I follow him in through my Grandpa's back door and get introduced to Dottie. Let's just say I don't think she was thrilled to see me. Shocked? YES! Thrilled? NO. But she acts nice...and Mark really likes me and is very excited to have a big sister. Dad would come home soon. Oh, he seemed soooooo happy to see me there! I remember wanting to cry when he seemed so happy! I would be invited to stay for dinner...at my own Grandpa's house.

Later that night, Mark would invite me to his bedroom. Connie was with us. He proudly took us to my old pink cottage, which was now transformed into a teenage boys room. I thought I took it really well, all in all. His Mom would come out later to join us. She pulled out a bag of weed and started smoking it...and passing it around the room. I didn't really do drugs... I think I was 14 and Mark a couple of years younger. Now, I'm sure there would be two sides to this story, but in my recollection, Marks Mom started talking about how bad the marriage had been between my Mom and Dad. I remember thinking it would be none of her business. Worse of all, she had some facts very confused. Basically, she shit talked my Mom. I came to her defense and advised her my Dad had been dishonest if he'd told her those things. I suggested we go to the house right then and ask him.... at which point I was promptly thrown out of the cottage and off of the property. I would not speak to my father for years and years. Like before, I called him... but I wouldn't get to talk to him... What I would get, is called many unfortunate names, and I would be informed that my Dad didn't want anything to do with me again and to stay away and leave them alone. The last thing I would get is hung up on...by Dottie.

I would dream of the house in the mountains every week...year after year... and my Grandpa would come and sit on my bed in the middle of the night and stroke my forehead. He would tell me not to be sad. After my children had been born, I actually drove with my friends to the mountains. I had done it many times before and just sat outside the house, or sometimes I would hike my old trails like I did when I was young. I would go to visit Roy's grave... But this time, we would go to old Mr. Becker's grocery store...which now had become my step Mom's "Bar & Grill". I told the bartender who I was and she called over to the house and said I was there. My Dad would come to see me... and following him would be my step Mom.... screaming. She had called the police. They would come and ask us all to leave or be arrested. We had done nothing, but she obviously knew the officer and she told him we had disturbed the peace. My Dad said nothing...he just turned and walked back toward the cabin. And so we would leave.

My Grandpa sat next to me on my bed. I would rub my eyes and try to figure out if it was really him or if I was dreaming... He didn't speak at first, but I could tell he was very, very sad. Oh, how I didn't want him to be sad. "Please be happy Grandpa!", I would say. "I'm not sad, don't you be sad. I'm a big girl now." He would stroke my head. "Do you remember the time I came and took you to dinner in my new Cadillac?", he asked. Well of COURSE I did! He had a magic car! It was big and the color of cream (he said) and it was MAGIC!! He could make the windows roll down with just a command! He could make an arrow blink right or left to point out whatever he wanted!! Obviously, I had never seen automatic windows before, or blinkers that lit up....so he tricked me!! Oh, how Grandpa's car was magic! I smiled at the memory. "The smile on your face now", he said, "will come back again." I didn't understand. "You will come back to the mountains one day. She will be gone." And then I would dream... my step Mom would lose her legs. I saw her struggle to get around. It was very scary. She would crawl with her hands towards me, dead legs, and beg me to forgive her...beg me...

It would be Connie who told me. My step Mom had died. She wasn't able to walk and suffered a painful end, in a wheelchair... Lost the use of her legs.

And then... would come another dream...so many years later... It would be my Grandpa, telling me to go see Connie.... Go see Connie... and so I would, after so many years passed, I would be compelled to drive to the mountains a few days later... and what would come of the news that followed, haunts me to this day...

Grandpa Roy Has A Stern Warning

Everybody in the mountains where the cabin was were so nice to me. There was Mr. Becker, who had owned the small grocery store down the street (my Dad's new wife, Dottie, would come to turn it into a bar & grill years later), the man who delivered the mail, all the neighbors, the people who owned the local restaurants, even the local garbage man. Everybody knew I was Grandpa Roy's grand daughter. They respected him, so I think they treated me extra nice. I would try to be extra nice to everyone in return. I always wanted to set a proud example for my Grandpa.

I made another good friend in the mountains. Her name was Connie. Connie was a lot older than me, but we would become blood sisters one summer...literally! She would cut my finger with a knife, after cutting her own, and we would rub bloody fingers together. A ritual would follow... I didn't really understand it all, but I knew it was very serious, and we would be bonded for life! That was just fine with me, because Connie had a horse!! A horse named Buffy. And Buffy would have a baby one summer. A baby named Apache. Oh, how I loved being Connie's friend!! She would teach me to ride bareback, and let me play for hours on end with the little baby horse. Just imagine that! A city girl like me, riding horses through the fields! I would even learn how to mount Buffy by running from behind and jumping on her back. Wow! Those were really the days!

Connie's parents were really nice too! They treated me like family. Even her sister, Sharon, who was way older. (Sharon to this day helps my Dad with the yard work.) I remember her parents so clearly. In fact, it was her Dad, Mr. Larry Lombardi, who found my Grandpa when he had died. Connie and her family had loved Grandpa Roy very much, and they took special care of me when he passed.

Often in the summer Mom and I stayed at the cabin, Connie and I would have sleep overs. Usually I would stay in the cabin with Mom, but when Connie stayed, we would sleep in my little pink cottage. We would stay up most of the night talking girl talk...sometimes until morning. I remember sometimes, the garbage man would come and tap on the window. The garbage cans were right outside of it. He must have heard us laughing inside. I would open the blinds and wave to him. He would look inside, around the room, and wave back, making small talk and wishing us a good day. He was really nice.

One night, when Connie and I were sleeping in the little pink cottage, I thought I heard the door open. I turned to look, and there was Grandpa Roy, standing over the bed. I looked over to Connie, but she was fast asleep. "Melody!", he said, in a very stern voice... "You don't stay out here anymore! And you don't ever, EVER, speak to the garbage man again!!" What? Why? "Do as I say," he warned... "and go inside now...NOW!" Oh, gosh how he scared me! I woke Connie up. When I turned around Grandpa was gone. I told her we had to go back and sleep in the house.

Mom used to take us to Bear River almost everyday. The heat was sweltering, and it was the only place we could cool off. But something bad had been happening at Bear River that summer. People camping were being murdered. Gruesome murders.... It would be on the news every night. And sure enough...when they caught the crazy mad murderer...it would be our garbage man.

Auntie Kay Sleeps Around

(Photo: My Beautiful Nana)

According to Auntie Kay, she was one sweet piece of tail...uhhhh...if you know what I mean. And, yeah, I think you do! She was never shy in bragging about it either. It was mortifying, might I add. She spent a great deal of time letting everybody (and anybody) know how much more desirable she was than her sister, Dorothy. She would brag non stop about how many more suitors she had in comparison.

Now, Dorothy was my beloved Nana. My Mom's Mom. One of the classiest, beautiful woman I have ever known in my entire life. Nana came to live with us in the last few years before she would pass. She and I shared a room, and I would emulate her every move. She would sit in front of her mirrored vanity each night and brush her hair 100 strokes, religiously. So, I would sit on my bed and do the same. For her morning routine, she would sit in the same spot, brush her hair again, add a matching ribbon to her outfit, powder her flawless face with a big puff, add a dab of rouge from a beautiful compact, a touch of red lips, and exactly two squirts of Chanel #5 perfume. When she left the room, I would sit at the vanity in her place and pretend to do all the same things. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. Never mind I was bigger than her by age 5... To this day the only perfume I wear is Chanel #5. Anyway, Auntie Kay's stories always freaked Nana out. Auntie Kay's "special" abilities would especially twist her up. Where Nana was shy and demure by nature, Auntie Kay was anything but! Nana would choose to basically ignore her, and explain to me that I would be best advised to do the same. If only Nana would have lived longer than my seven years, perhaps I would have been spared much of Auntie Kay's freakishness. But, that would not be life's plan...

One day, years after my Nana's death, Auntie Kay would throw a special luncheon. It was a luncheon in honor of my new step father to be, whom she had not yet met. His name was Michael, Mike as we would call him. My Mom had been more than concerned about their meeting, because Mike was a very dark skinned Portuguese. There was still a big stigma about racial blending back then. I can remember how nervous Mom had been on the way to the luncheon. But NOOOOOOOOO! Trust me! There would be no need for concern.

Mike was tall, dark, and I suppose very handsome...well, at least what he lacked in typical good looks, he made up for tenfold with oozing charm and flirtation. From the first time their eyes met, Auntie Kay would swoon!! And when I say swoon, I mean the full deal... the back of one hand to her forehead, while the other fanned her flushing cheeks. I'm pretty sure her knees buckled too. The luncheon would become awkward to say the least! Mike would play right into her hands, complimenting her on everything from her deviled eggs to her stunning beauty (?) to her almost unbearable piano playing. BARF!! Cocktails would be poured, and refilled, and refilled again... Auntie Kay would sit on his lap and giggle like a schoolgirl. They would dance round and round the living room, Mike twirling her, and dipping her, and shaking his hips like he was Tom Jones. Uncle Jim would sit on the couch and pretend to read, looking up from his bifocals now and again...no signs of jealousy really, more a sense of relief that she was taken off his hands for a while...

So, lunchtime rolls around, and it came as no surprise than Auntie Kay would rearrange the place settings so as Mike could sit next to her. From that vantage point, she was able to trail her stubby little fingers up and down his thigh, while laughing wildly at his every comment. Sheesh, how I thought I would just DIE! Or, perhaps WISHED I would. ;) Mom didn't seem to mind one lick though. She was just sooooo happy he was obviously being accepted...

Well, somewhere around dessert, the announcement would come. Auntie Kay would sit everyone down, and filled with extreme excitement, she would announce..."I know this might come as a shock to you all, but we have a confession to make... As I'm sure you are all aware, there is a chemistry between Michael and I that can't be denied. And the reason is...(drum roll if you will)...we used to be LOVERS!!" Uhhhhh...WTF?? That's right, I said it. LOVERS!! "Now, before anybody gets the wrong idea," she would continue, "it wasn't in THIS life. Oh, heavens no! It was in one of our PAST lives! And it was more passionate than you could possibly imagine! OH, what love we made!!" Tipsy Mike would play right into this crazy ass delusion. And me?...I would take my dessert outside (and a couple of extras) and wait until it was time to go home.

Years would pass. There would come another special luncheon. This time to introduce Auntie Kay to my then fiancee Patrick. And guess what? ....Go ahead, GUESS!!! Yep! She had slept with him in another life too! hmmmmmm....go figure! Except this time, she would call me to her house days later. There was something very important she needed to discuss with me...a concern she had about Patrick. A concern she had specifically about his boring "moves", if you will. And it was this conversation that sent goosebumps down my spine.... for dear Auntie Kay knew "things" she should have NO WAY of knowing. Things that, to this very day, can only make me believe...that she indeed, had been Patrick's lover... F'ing, creepy, Creepy, CREEPY!!!

Whatever Happened To "Uncle" Bob...

Great Auntie Kay had two daughters. The eldest was Wendy. I'm pretty sure she was a change of life baby. At least, I know her crazyass self changed the life of OUR family. Not only did she get some cookoo from Auntie Kay, she came with a whole bag full of her own. Holy Sheesh!! Wendy was about 17 (?) years older than me. Once when my brothers and I were staying with Auntie Kay for a few days, Wendy and my eldest brother got into a fight about what they wanted to watch on T.V. Doug wanted to watch Star Trek...Doug lived for Star Trek. Cousin Wendy wanted to watch Lost in Space. Turmoil ensued. They both stood guard at the T.V. like sumo, and wrestled over changing the channel. Back and forth, back and forth...knock down drag out shiz! Finally, Wendy lost her mind (worse than usual). She began screaming at the top of her lungs and would not stop. She ran through the house and began breaking Auntie Kay's antiques, ripping down the curtains, kicking chairs until they went flying...then she went to the kitchen and came out welding a butcher knife. A butcher knife!!! Very simply, she wanted to watch Lost In Space, or she wanted to kill my brother Doug. Personally, I wanted to watch I Dream of Jeanie...but I wasn't saying NOTHING! Needless to say, we ended up watching Lost In Space.



Wendy went to take a lot of "rests" herself. I always wondered if she "rested" at the same place Auntie Kay "rested".



Side note: Auntie Kay had gone to "rest" for over two years after the birth of Wendy. Auntie Kay's husband Uncle Jim (whoa! there's another story in itself) took care of Wendy with the help of my Nana for those years. No doubt Auntie Kay NEEDED to rest before tackling Wendy.



Anyway, one time after Cousin Wendy came from a lengthy "rest", she showed up with her new boyfriend, Bob. "Uncle" Bob, they called him to us. (Now, how he became an "Uncle" remains questionable... as many "Uncles" do ;). Regardless, she and "Uncle" Bob had met at the "rest" place. There was a family gathering one day to introduce us all. If this wasn't a freak show to beat all freak shows, then I don't know what a freak show is.... And by now, I think we all know that I DO! He was very confrontational. He was very loud. He had a very big uni-brow and CRAZY eyes. Auntie Kay and Wendy began to fight...I think it was about his bad manners... I stayed on high alert, hovering around the telephone waiting to dial the operator for the police. Mom ended up getting us out of the house soon after...



Time passed. I heard Uncle Bob and Wendy had married and moved far away. But, as my luck would have it, Thanksgiving was coming, and they would be traveling to join us for our feast at Auntie Kay's. Well, the feast part I was jazzed about. After all, Auntie Kay WAS a gourmet chef! (Butter, butter, cream, lard, bacon, butter... you get the idea...basically in today's world, she would have SHIT on Paula Dean.) Finally Thanksgiving arrived. No Wendy and Uncle Bob. We would wait a little longer...and a little longer.... They were taking a Greyhound bus from somewhere...perhaps the bus was late? Uncle Jim waited for the call from the station so he could go fetch them. He was the calmest of all. The call, however, would not come on that Thanksgiving. In fact, Auntie Kay would not hear from Wendy for several days. She finally showed up at their house unannounced...



Wendy was a fright!! She would go on to unravel a story unlike any you will ever hear... While on their way to Thanksgiving, the bus had made a scheduled stop in some ho-bunk little town. "Uncle" Bob had gone to use the restroom earlier, but had never returned to his seat. Wendy knocked on the door over and over again, with no response. At the stop, the driver finally went back to assist. When they eventually pried the door open, there was "Uncle" Bob... he had removed his shoelaces from his shoes, somehow knotted them around the sink...and his neck...and had hung himself...



O.K....wait just a minute...WHAT?? That's right... "Uncle" Bob, dead in the back of the Greyhound (I hate Greyhound buses). According to Wendy, she left the bus, and stayed in ho- bunk for a few days, where she had "Uncle" Bob buried, and then continued on home. WTF?? She moved back in with her Mom and Dad. Ho Hum...no big deal... Life goes on...(Huh??).



So, one day I'm at Auntie Kay's and we're cooking in the kitchen. Wendy is glaring at me all day. I always thought she was a little jealous of me, for some reason... Anyway, she comes at me in the kitchen, when Auntie Kay isn't there...and I'm all alone with her... she corners me up by the refrigerator... she has a smile on her face that would make a zombie run the other way..."Do you want to end up like Bob?", she asks... and then she laughs...and laughs...and laughs...



To this day nobody knows what really happened to "Uncle" Bob. His family made several attempts to find him... but Wendy was away on an extended "rest", and she couldn't ever quite remember the name of the town where she had put HIM to "rest"...



Odd how life works... several years later, Wendy herself would go missing, mysteriously. She's not been seen since either. The last person who saw her was Uncle Jim. Dropped her off at a bookstore in Berkeley, he would say, and she never showed up when he went back to get her. Uncle Jim would just shake his head whenever the subject came up... He would just shake his head, with a calm voice and maniacal look in his eyes....Uncle Jim would shake his head and say, "It's best they're gone, those two. It's best they're gone. I never really liked Bob."



Every time Auntie Kay would have me sit at that musty Ouija board with her and try to channel either of them, the movey thing would fly off the table. FLY off the table. Over, and over again! And her crystal would swing, round and around, faster and faster...even though her hand seemed perfectly still...



Years later, while visiting Auntie Kay in the hospital, I saw an orderly pushing an empty gurney down the hall... he turned to look at me just before rounding the corner... the smile, the uni-brow, the crazy eyes... it was "Uncle" Bob! I freaked the F out!! I ran into Auntie Kay's room... She was hysterical... "Get me out of here!", she pleaded... "It's Bob...he's here! No one believes me!!... I can't breath..I'm suffocating!!"...



They wouldn't let Auntie Kay come home that night. She wouldn't come home for a while. But I would have a strange dream soon after... "Uncle" Bob would be pushing a gurney down the lawn of a cemetery...This time it wasn't empty... I would run to catch him and pull back the sheet... and there would be Auntie Kay with a shoelace around her neck...eyes bulging...and sitting in a lone chair, in front of a hole, would be Wendy...laughing...and, laughing...

My New Bestest Friend Carolee...

I made friends at my Grandpa Roy's cabin in the mountains. Which was very cool. Especially because I've never really been one to have friends. I just somehow fit in better there. One of the first friends I made was Carolee. I remember the day we moved my Grandpa Roy from his apartment in Oakland to his new digs. Which, by the way...seemed like a billion miles away!! I mean, it took FOREVER to get there. I wondered, did Grandpa Roy retire to the other side of the world? In all reality, it was about two and a half hours away, headed from the city up toward the Sierras. But honestly, when your that little, and your stuck between your two stupid, annoying brothers...it is FOREVER. So anyway, I was helping unload the trailer. Little stuff, of course...back and forth, back and forth...when across a dirt driveway I see this girl watching me. She smiled at me and I smiled back...which back then I think meant we were new bestest friends. I was bigger, but it ended up she was a year older. I would come to learn that she was there visiting her grandparents too. So often when I would go back to visit, Carolee wouldn't be there. I could almost always count on seeing her when we went on holidays though. Holidays that is, except for one time...one time in the summer after Grandpa Roy had died...

Aside from my pink cabin, there were other little houses on the property. There was a glass house for growing plants in, and a little house for putting garden tools in, and an odd little shack for...well...for me to make a secret FORT in! What else?? I cleaned the secret fort really good. (Oh, just wait until my dumb brothers came back from wherever they were and saw THIS!!) I was sitting in it one late afternoon...me and my flashlight, because it was dark in there...when all of a sudden the door opened and there stood my mountain bestest friend Carolee!! I remember she scared me! Oh, she didn't look so good! "Hi!" I said, so glad to see her. She closed the door and just sort of stared at me. "I'm going to be here for the summer" I announced. "How long will you be here?" Carolee, just staring at me...staring at me... Uhhhhh.... kinda weird... "Hey! Mom is taking me into town to get Foster Freeze for dinner! Do you wanna come? I'll ask her if it's O.K. and we can ask your Gram!" Staring at me...staring at me... Uhhhhhh, hmmmmmm. "Do you wanna?"... "I can't.", she finally said. Oh. I was sad. Long silence... "Are you O.K.?", I asked. Finally, Carolee says, "I saw your Grandpa." She did? That's kinda weird! It must have been a while ago... maybe last time she had visited. Maybe she didn't know. "My Grandpa is dead" I told her. Still, just staring at me...staring... "He said you shouldn't be in here." She looked as confused as I was. I mean, what? What? Why? "There's ticks.", she said. Well, I didn't know what that was. Ticks? "Whats ticks?", I asked her. "They're bad..." she said, staring at me...staring at me... "I have to go now"... and so she left... as quickly as she had appeared.

"Mom! Carolee says there are ticks in my fort! What's ticks?" I asked, waiving my trusty flashlight around the kitchen. "TICKS?!?", Mom all but screamed. She grabbed the flashlight. There were these tiny little bugs attached under the rim by the bulb. A complete body search followed. Panic set in. Crazy! She was freaking out, so I was freaking out. She was checking my head, and under my hair by my neck, and telling me to strip and put my clothes in a bag... there were "ticks" in my sock, and under my arm... and then I was naked and getting scrubbed down in the shower... Moms could be so crazy! Even worse, she didn't really want to explain what a tick was. "Is it a spider?", I asked. "Uhhh, sort of honey. Don't worry about it.", she had said. Don't worry about it, except for I wasn't ever allowed to go in my secret fort anymore! That SUCKED (as do ticks, as I would come to find out decades later, when I almost died from one's bite).

It was dark when we got home from Foster Freeze, so Mom wouldn't let me go over to Carolee's house. But first thing next morning I skipped over there to see if she could play. Her Gram answered the door. She was wearing her flower apron. She always wore that apron. Usually because she was always making COOKIES! Yeah! Cookies! Very exciting! "Hi!", I said. "Can Carolee play?".... Oh, oh... not good... not good at all. Carolee's Gram clutched the front of her flower apron. I remember she turned white as a ghost! She turned and looked at her husband, who was sitting in a chair behind her. She turned back and looked at me. I thought she was going to cry. I remember feeling scared, and bad all at once. Oh no! Was I going to get in trouble?? "Um...Sweetheart", her Gram began...she was shaking, "Our Carolee was hurt in an accident with her Mommy. Ummm... It was very bad." Oh no! It must be bad! Her Gram was sooooooo sad! "Well, is she at the doctor?", I asked. Maybe my Mom could take me to see her. Long pause.... "No Sweetheart. Ummmm, Carolee is in heaven with her Mommy. They went to heaven last year." What?? But, that wasn't true! I just saw her! Just yesterday!...

"Come Find Grandpa In The Grave"

I ask you this...How would I ever have known to look for that letter there? How?? And how would I come to know all of the other things I knew before I shouldn't have even known them yet? The things I haven't even told you about yet?? I'll tell you how!! It had to be that damn crystal swinging dwarf Auntie Kay! I mean, right?? Ugh! I remember being soooo mad at her that day. All her fault...she must have voodooded me, or something. "Special", is what she said we were. Well, just so you know, being "Special" SUCKED that weekend...And sooooo many times since...

Ohhhhhh, I wanted my Mom to hurry up and come get me sooooo bad. She was supposed to be driving to the mountains to pick me up. I felt like I'd been there forever, and now....now, Dad was pissed off at me! That's putting it mildly, by the way. He'd been in really bad shape since the cozy coffin dropping day anyway. He'd spent most of the time at the bar down the road. On one hand, I had a strange feeling I shouldn't tell him about what had happened, and the letter and all.... But, then again, maybe it would make him really happy!! I mean, right? WROOOOOOONG! "Where the hell did you get this?" he had demanded. I got scared. I tried to tell him. It was no use. He said I had snooped where I didn't belong. He paced back and forth in the kitchen. I thought I was going to get a whippin'. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry...", I repeated. I ran back to the room and put everything back in the trunk, just like I had found it. Everything that is, except for my letter.

I tried to tell Mom what had happened when she got there. Uhhh, that went over like a turd in a punch bowl. They were fighting. Oh, it was bad. It was really, really bad. I gathered Grandpa Roy had called Mom just days before he passed. He said he NEVER wanted my Dad or his friends at the cabin again. He said he had changed his "Will". The house would be left to me...I was the Earp...I was the only grandchild.

Wait, where had I heard that before? Had Grandpa Roy told me that in my dream?
"Do you know who you are?... Do you know who you are?"

So anyway, who was "Will"? They were yelling and screaming about him. But...I did remember seeing his name in my letter. Will...Will... Oh, and there was someone else's name I remember seeing too. It was his neighbor. His name was written at the bottom of the letter and he had signed it above a line. There was someone else's name too, but I didn't know who it was. Nobody would ever know...because my letter disappeared. It wouldn't be seen again...

Summer came. Mom and my stepfather had split up and my brothers had gone away on an airplane to visit their other Dad...their "real" Dad...whatever that meant. It was just me and Mom. We stayed in the mountains at the cabin. We mostly stayed by ourselves, but my Dad would come sometimes on the weekend. He would bring all his friends. They would fill the entire property with their loud motorcycles. I would mostly hide in my little pink cottage. I didn't want to snoop where I didn't belong...

"Sweetheart", my Grandpa Roy said to me, stirring me gently as I snuggled in his bed one night. "You need to come see me." "But, I can see you now!" I thought. "Yes, but you need to come SEE me!" Yikes! He seemed a little mad. Ah, sheesh....What?? "You know where", he said..."You know where"...

"Mom, I want to go see Grandpa Roy", I told her the next morning. "We can do that." she said. "Let's just wait until your Dad comes." But Dad wouldn't go. He would NEVER go. Not even to this day.

Even after almost 25 years of being alienated, I tried to get him to go with me recently.
Nope! Gee..guilty much Dad??

Anyway, Dad would try to pacify me (himself?) by telling me about the gravestone he had bought for Grandpa Roy. He would tell me how beautiful it was, with mountains on it, and pine trees... So one hot summer afternoon, I talked Mom into taking me. Taking me to the place where they had dropped my Grandpa into a hole and covered him with dirt... "OH, how beautiful it must look now", I thought! And hopefully, Grandpa Roy would quit bugging me. Every night, every night..."Where are you? Hurry! Come!" Creepy, creepy....

"Stop the car!" It's over there!" I jumped out and started running. "Wait", Mom said. "We need help finding it. Let's go ask someone." Yea, right!! I didn't need to ask anybody! I knew right where it was. Running, running..."It's...right...HERE!" I dropped down to the grass... Wait...Whuh?...WTF?? There, right under my nose was an engraved plate... an engraved plate with SOMEONE ELSE'S NAME ON IT!! No mountains...no pine trees... "It's O.K." Mom tried to assure me. "You haven't been here for a long time. We'll ask for help." But I didn't need any stinking help! Oh, why wouldn't anybody listen to me?

"It's here. It's here. I'm here..." That's what I heard. Grandpa Roy. Couldn't Mom hear him?

"NO MOM! It's here! I know it is!" But Mom wouldn't listen. Neither would the little old man she fished out of the office who came to help. He wiped his sweaty bald little head, shaking it back and forth. "There must be some mistake." he said. "We'll find him"...

"I'm here Sweetheart. You know where. I'm here"...

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wouldn't accept the other unmarked grave they said was his. It was a lie!! I couldn't be consoled!!...

And so it would come to be...the wrong headstone had been placed on my Grandpa Roy's grave. And even though it would be a long time...eventually, the one with my Grandpas name on it, and the mountains, and the pine trees, would find its proper place. And years later, by some strange circumstance (?) I would come to meet the widow of the man who had mistakenly been marked in his place...

Grandpa Roy Has A Message...

My Grandpa Roy is dead. There would be no funeral. No funeral that is, except for me and my Dad. Mom and Dad had been divorced for a long time. I guess Dad didn't have a car then...? I remember taking the Greyhound bus to the mountains that night. We sat in the back. It was weird. Super weird. He didn't talk much. I remember mixing him drinks from bottles in a brown paper bag...and him chain smoking...throwing the still lit butts on the bus floor...watching them glow. I don't remember how we got to the cabin in the mountains after we got off the bus. I remember how dark it was. I remember that....and that I wanted to sleep in Grandpa Roy's bed. The bed he had been found in...the bed where he had laid for a few days... Creepy, creepy!! Can you say "Lil' ten year old Melody is a weirdo"? Dad didn't complain. In fact, he seemed MORE than glad to sleep in the other room.

Such a sad, sad day...just the two of us. There were lots of other chairs set out. But they wouldn't be used. I sat next to my Dad in silence, wearing my best outfit my Mom had handmade me and packed. There were graves all around us...and a hole in front of us. A big fancy station wagon rolled up. God bless the two men who tried as they might to lift that damn special made casket!! I'm ashamed to say it, but I think I might have laughed out loud at one point.

Grandpa Roy never, EVER, made excuses for his size. And let me just say, I'm pretty sure he was...HUGE!!! I remember him "trying out" an outdoor lounge chair for his porch one day. He crushed it, literally to the ground. I tried to help him off the floor. He was cursing and carrying on..."Cheap shit!!...GD cheap shit!!"... The kid who worked there was freaking out. Grandpa Roy would settle on solid redwood lounge chairs. They were so heavy I couldn't lift them. ...He eventually broke one of those too... Damn cheap shit!!

So anyway, after they call for all of the employyees on duty to come and help lift the coffin...and there were about six back-up...I watch them huff and puff it (dropped it once) over to the hole. It was crazy. The guy who drove the fancy station wagon asked my Dad if he wanted to say anything... He just kept looking at his feet, and said no. I didn't know what to do. I had never been to a dead person get buried in the ground thing. They were lowering him into the hole... A small hispanic looking helper was holding onto a rope and almost fell in... And then, I was standing up...and then, I was looking at his casket in the hole... "I love you", I said. And when I turned around, I saw something I've never seen before, and I've never seen since. I saw my Dad cry.

Grandpa Roy sat at the end of his bed. Ummmmmmm...He was SOOOOOOO not dead! WTF?? He was just looking at me...and I was looking at him...and I felt overcome with joy!! "Do you know who you are?", he asked. He was always such a rough, tough MF. But, his words were always so gentle to me, when we were alone...like this...me lying curled up in his bed, and him sitting next to me. I could see him in the moonlight shining through the window. "I need your help", he said. WHAT? Of course I'd help!!! Anything!!! "The trunk at the foot of the bed", he motioned to it. "You know the secret walls?"

Uhhhhhhhhh...of COURSE I know the SECRET WALLS!! One day after Grandpa Roy had taken me shooting at the river, and after he had made me dismantle each gun, clean them, and reassemble...he took me to his closet in the sunken room. He pulled apart his clothes, reached into a notch, and pulled out the wall...then he did this to the other walls. Guns...a secret place...filled with guns. Oh, the stories he told...

"Go to the bottom of the trunk. There's a secret wall there...you know how...you know how..." I woke up to streaming sunlight in the room. I sat up and looked at the trunk. I remember, I wasn't afraid at all. I slid out of bed in my jammies and lifted the trunk open...I emptied it to the bottom, and...sure enough... a secret bottom.... and beneath it... all by itself...there lay an envelope... In my Grandpa Roys handwriting I read, "Melody"...

And so...The Dead Talk To Me...

Aunti Kay would never, ever, acknowledge she wrote the letter. I mean, she said she wrote the letter, but didn't write the letter... Uhhhhh, O.K... It was something called "automatic".

Oh, that Auntie Kay. Why did she confide in me? "This is our little secret", she'd say, when noone else was around. "Remember the dead little girl?", she'd ask me later. "She told me everything. She told me where they could find her. The police won't admit it. But they listen to me. But they can't say a crazy little old woman solved their case, can they?". Ummmmmm... "They used to think maybe I was doing these things. Isn't that silly, Sweetie?" Oh...My...Gawd.... something new to consider...and in light of what happened to her daughter, Wendy...and her boyfriend, "Uncle" Bob... I remember my brain swimming...

I remember my Nana on the phone. She was pale as a sheet. "Why, I just don't know...I, really, I haven't spoken to her... Of course I'll call her right away.. Yes...well, she's been ill off and on..."

Auntie Kay had many friends from church, as did Nana. Obviously, a male friend from the church had called Nana. He'd received in the mail that day, a letter. A really peculiar letter. A disturbing letter. I heard her discussing it with my Mom. "Oh, I didn't write it!", Auntie Kay would console, after we drove to her house. "No! Don't be silly! Somebody else wrote it. I just helped. It was an "automatic". Auntie Kay was calm as a cucumber (whatever that means...I got it from her). She always was calm...AFTER an episode...AFTER her freaky deed was done...

It had been a crazy, rambling, letter. Mostly written in barely distinguishable pencil. A vow of love and memories. A love letter from his wife, if you will. A letter which ended with the deepest of sympathy by my Aunt...

The man from church was disturbed. He waited for his wife to return home... But of course, she never returned home again. She would be killed that day in a horrific accident... The day he got the letter in the mail...

I wonder just how many times I was called to Auntie Kays card table. The one that sat between the living and dining room. The one where she told me so many secrets. The one where she so gleefully informed me one night...that I was JUST like HER. I had the "gift".... Uhhhh...but I don't want the gifty thingy....
AHHHHHHHHH....gifty thingy be GONE..... But. Auntie Kay was a gourmet chef... I wanted the strawberries and thick cream she always gave me.... I wanted the perfect poached eggs with toast fingers... Anyway...How could I be just like Auntie Kay? "Well", she would clarify...as she did on sooo many occasions..."You're just like me, but you're fat". Well THAT blows! She would remind me of this many times during her life. No time to absorb the truth though...she would stick a pen in my hands, while I sat across from her at the table. Candles burning, the light overhead swinging, the rest of the house dark, me wiping whipped cream off my face, the crystal thing near by...I didn't know what to write... sheesh...what to write? I drew a picture of my Grandpa...

My Grandpa came and sat at the end of my bed. Oh how I loved him. Roy...that's what I called him. I was never allowed to call him Grandpa. He was Roy. Roy Earp. Homicide Inspector of the Oakland police department. Direct decentant of "Wyatt Earp". He was my hero. Oh, how he loved me! Taught me to shoot a gun at the river, before I could hardly stand up straight. Said he didn't teach me to shoot silver dollars out of the air... I just did it because it was in my blood. It was odd to see him there sitting on my bed... He was sooo warm.... not scarey at all. "Do you know who you are?" , he asked. Uhhhhhhhh..... kinda confused.... WHAT?...."Do you know how much I love you?" he asked. I did! Of course I did! When he retired, he bought a house in the mountains. It had a guest house. He had decorated the entire thing in pink!! PINK!! Imagine that for a little girl. It was MY house....with a porch, and built in BBQ/stove that worked! Filled with little girl plates and pots and pans...He reached for my hand, and he held it. "You are an Earp", he said. "One of the last. I am gone now", he told me. "You are very important. I am gone now"...

KNOCK...KNOCK...KNOCK... I remember being awaikened by the sound...and dogs barking...barking... My girlfriend's Mom came into the room... "Melody?".... "Melody?"... she gently called..."Your brother is here... he says you need to go home now"... What a pisser! I was having a sleepover at my friend Lisa's house. I hardly ever got to have a sleepover...."What do you want David?", I scorned at him, standing outside the front door. "You have to come home now!", he said. "Why?", I demaned. "Uhhhhh....I can't say. Just come home. Hurry up!" ......
'It's because Roy died, right?", I asked him. Looooooong pause..... "I never said that!", he demanded. "Don't tell Mom I said that! She told me not to tell you! How do you know that?"....
I knew because I knew.... he had come to tell me.... That...and there would be so much more....

Damn that Auntie Kay....what was wrong with me? ...

A Letter From The Grave

So, nobody really wanted to talk about the "incident" after it happened. At least not in front of us kids. But that became the norm... Which was really weird at first, especially considering the complete abnormality of the situation. You just sort of learned not to bring it up. Ho hum, just another day.... Auntie Kay was nuts (didn't have nuts;). "Oh, that silly Auntie Kay of yours is just different. " Hmmmmmmm..."different"...I'll frickin' say!! Ya THINK???? Uhhhhhh...any word about the DEAD little girl??

And then...then...I get dropped off to stay with Auntie Kay for a couple of days! WTF is going on here?? I think I might have pooped my pants a little... And I remember, Auntie Kay kept asking me if I wanted to go out back and play... "Don't you want to go out back and play?"... "Why don't you go out back and play?" Hell NO I didn't want to go out back and play... WTF?

So anyway, Aunt Kay has this card table set up between the living room and dining room. One night she calls me over to sit with her. She's very excited. O.K... excited might be putting it mildly...it's more like she's winding up like a jet propeller. She's got this weird, old, chewed up looking board sitting on the table. It's got a lot of the alphabet on it...plus some other freaky shiz... There's a dingy looking thing sitting on top of it, and she's moving it around with her fingertips. Next to her (aside from cigarettes and a cocktail)....that damn swingy crystal thing!
"We're going to talk to the dead people", she says. Just like that! Just like saying, "We're going to color", or, "We're going to set the table." Great, this is my life. And then, it got worse... "Somebody is trying to warn us", she said. And then she said it over, and over, and over...all the while moving that movey thing all over the musty, worn out board. She moved that thing like a puck on an air hockey table. Oh, and then for effect, she'd moan and roll her little scrunched head around... Talk about screwing a kid up...

To this day I refuse to let my kids play Ouija...Word Up!!

I think I had only been home for about a week, when I heard my Mom on the phone, talking to someone about Auntie Kay. Dang! I gathered she was on another "rest". But then, what was this? "A pencil and paper? Why? ....Well, if she's so upset, just give it to her!" Mom sounded pissed! I gathered Auntie Kay was somewhere "resting", but wanted to write a letter. For some reason the person at the rest place didn't want to give her a pencil. "She isn't responding to lithium? Nothing?"...

Well, it appears Auntie Kay needed to write a letter. And write a letter she did...

She Sees Dead People

Just where did the notion come from that when people lose their shiz, little men in white coats will come and take them away? I'm here to tell you that if that were true, I would have for SURE, for sure witnessed it by now! Nope, never seen it. Not even the police took Auntie Kay away that Easter. Ends up she had called them herself!?! After she ate some M&M's she calmed down a bit though. They talked for a while, and one even took notes. Another looked around the yard. I mostly had my eyes on that one, in case he was after my eggs. He was kinda pudgy and I'd seen him swipe some ham after coming out of the bathroom. Things are a little fuzzy after that. I think I might have eaten a little too much of the rum bread pudding all the grown ups had told me not to touch. Anyway, Auntie Kay did have to go away for a little "rest" a few days later. I was assured if she took her lithium vitamins (?) everyday, she'd come home soon. Nobody really wanted to discuss it much more than that. But I did overhear my Dad say Auntie Kay had "lost her marbles"...??

"Ohhhhhhh Nooooooo!", I remember thinking. I TOO had recently lost MY marbles. I thought my brothers stole them! I didn't even know Auntie Kay collected marbles! Oh, this was not good. This was not good at ALL! I searched for my marbles like a squirrel looking for nuts. Cashew nuts.

So anyway, something really weird happens about a week after she gets back home. I saw it with my own eyes on our little black and white T.V. with the tin foil balls on it's "rabbit ears" (?)... There he was. One of the police officers from Easter, on the news, talking about the little girls body they had just found. Dead. Probably for a day, or two (?). Buried. In Orinda. In Orinda where my Auntie lived! In a backyard! In a backyard close to Auntie Kays backyard! Ummmmmm...O.K. WHAT??

And so it went. And needless to say, so did my little crystal swinging, marble losing Auntie Kay...back for many, many a "rest". And then, sure enough, a week or two later, would come the news...

Certifiable

How crazy does crazy really come? How old are you the first time you realize somebody (everybody?) in your family is wacko? Let's face it, it's often a little murky. It's not like a family member makes an official announcement at the big annual Easter gathering...right? Well, unless you were in my family that is! Seriously, somebody just cling-clinged a wine glass and said something like "Aunt Kay is frickin' nuttier than a fruitcake!" Me, being pudgy little five year old me, starts scanning the buffet tables for fruitcake. Hmmmmmm....no fruitcake there. Guess I better go straight to the source and ask Auntie Kay. I figure if she didn't know where it was, at least it sounded like maybe she had a bunch of nuts. I mean, right? I'm fat and five and I heard "nuts" and "fruitcake" and "Aunt Kay". So anyway, I find Auntie Kay out back in her perfectly manicured yard. She's weaving in and out of my brothers croquet game and telling them to be careful where they stepped. So, I skip out there in my new patten leather Mary Jane shoes, being super careful not to get any shit on them (of course it didn't really make any sense there would be any, since apparently her two dachshunds only shit in the house, but anyway...) "Auntie Kay?", I begin as I caught up to her. "Oh my Sweetheart!" she says, "Did you come to help your Auntie Kay look?" I assume we're looking for fruitcake. I mean, right?...or at least I'm hoping for cashews. (MMMMMMM, I love me some cashews!!) But she's studying the ground, real focused like, and kicking the grass around. WTF? Then she whispers to me something like "Go look carefully around the flower beds. Look for where the dirt has been disturbed", she instructs. "You can tell if it's been dug up and somebody tried to cover their tracts." Then she winks. It took a couple seconds, but all at once it hit me... Oh My Gawd! EASTER EGG HUNT TIME!!!! WooooooooooHooooooo! And I'm thinking, they actually buried the eggs this year!?!? Sneaky, Sneaky! Better yet, my stupid brothers have no clue. They've heard squat of this. Hehehehe... This hunt was in the basket (so to speak)! MY basket!! So, I start looking for tore up pieces of yard like nobodies business! Ohhhhhhh I hope I uncover the chocolate ones, the chocolate ones, the chocolate ones! I see a chunk of suspicious grass clod to my left. I drop down and start digging with my hands like I'm looking for China...

O.K. Let me just pause here for a minute. Ah, great, great, Great Auntie Kay. What a specimen she was. I just sorta thought in the beginning that everybody had one like her. All 4' 6" of her... looking freakishly like the doppleganger of that little lady in the Amityville movie who keeps wanting Carol Ann to "come to the light". That little face of hers scrunched up so tight she could pick her nose with tongue...literally. Speaking of which, why she'd show this sideshow act to anyone is still beyond me. And to think she wondered why my brothers and I only kissed her on the cheek?? Anyway, back to that Easter...

So, after I get my ass kicked for digging up Auntie Kay's back yard and getting my handmade Easter dress all muddy, the police show up. Just GREAT!! No chocolate eggs. No fruitcake. Not so much as a stinking cashew. Just an ass whippin', and now I'm getting arrested?? But not to worry. They head for her. The sweet little old lady swinging the crystal over her head and screeching something about the pretty little girls body buried out back...then blah, blah this, and blah, blah that, and would the nice officers like some cocktails or perhaps some ham? O.K....wait...WHAT?? That's right, I said it! "Body" and "Pretty little girl"! WTF? Poor Uncle Jim is chasing her around with a handful of pills, begging her to take them. He's dropping some on the floor and I'm thinking I'll take them if she doesn't want them because they look kinda like M&M's. All the adults look worried and they're following the police, who are in front of Uncle Jim, who's chasing Auntie Kay, who's now running out back, still swinging that damn crystal....

Anyway... Sheesh! Forgive me. I haven't even formally introduced myself to you. It's just that I didn't really know where to begin my blog... And now? Now I have to go pop a Valium...and can any of you really blame me? Truth being, I lost my job and with it went the medical insurance, and with that went the shrink. So it's come to this. I am officially a blogger!

I hope you'll join me again soon. Until then, enjoy your family! ;)