hey guys! this is part one of my memoir in progress...just thought i'd put this in here..maybe get some feedback....yes everything in it is 100% true...hence the word "memoir" just to answer any potential questions lol...oh and one more thing...copyright me! just in case lol
No matter who your family is, there always seems to be a particular game that you always play. Sibling rivalry flourishes; competitive arguments arise, and by the end, the game always divides the family in half, and naturally the silent treatment. Once in awhile however, you get closer, and there’s more laughter than animosity. Our family game was Uno. I was the best damn Uno player the family had ever seen. Unbeatable, I was. Although, my cousin Kenny gave me quite a run for my money, and when you played Uno with him, you never felt like a loser because he could make you laugh until you thought you would feint and slip into a coma.
Some people in my family (maybe sick of Uno) liked to play another game. It was the game of manipulation. My uncle Brent in particular, viewed this as his favorite game.
When my grandmother (the third one on that side of the family) was diagnosed with a brain tumor, my mother and I flew from our Texas home up to South Dakota to pay a visit. My uncle Doug, my 2 cousins, and my aunt also lived in the same small town.
As any normal person’s wishes, my cousin didn’t want to accompany Grandma to her radiation treatment, and neither did I. He came over, and with nothing better to do, we began to play Uno.
It was then that my grandma walked in, chili in her hair, chili on her face, chili all down her clothes, chili everywhere.
I looked at Kenny. He looked back. We looked at grandma, and then my mom who was keeping my grandma’s balance. We looked at each other again and struggled to keep from laughing.
Grandma went to change, and Kenny and I couldn’t burst out laughing like a butterfly from a cocoon. We cracked up, rolled over on our sides, and that was when my mom came in and began to explain the chili.
So, after my grandma’s radiation treatment, my mom took her to Wendy’s to get a burger and a bowl of chili.
She was bringing the chili bowl up to her face, and then they went over a bump. Before anyone could do anything to prevent an accident, the chili was all over her face, hair, and clothes.
A few hours later, after Grandma went to bed, bored ness rolled around again. And what better way to cure that than good ‘ole Uno! So I’m ahead of Cousin Kenny by 2 games, and 4 games ahead of my mom, and the chili gets brought up.
My cousin said between infectious giggles “Yanno, throughout the entire time you were talking about how she got chili on herself, all that was going through my mind was the word ‘chili’ said over and over again like a broken record. ‘chili chili chili chili chili chili chili chili chili chili…’”
In honor of the great chili spill, we called our Uno tournament, no, not the Super Bowl. The Chili Bowl.
wasn’t until 2 weeks later (two weeks of babysitting my year old half brother non-stop at my dad’s house) that I saw Kenny again.
Maybe it was jealousy of the attention of the rest of the family, or maybe something even more complicated in his twisted mind, but my uncle Brent from San Francisco came into South Dakota, and began playing HIS favorite family game, leaving the chili bowl in empty and cracked.
Previously, he had said horrible things to his sister (my mother) and ended all communication with her, but attempted to keep contact with me. But because of his actions towards the rest of the family, my mom told me I could not have any farther communication with him. I wasn’t too bothered because he never tried to contact me for 7-8 years before that time, and so we never truly got close.
In any case, the story goes that while Uncle Doug was in the hospital, Brent stayed at his house.
It hit us like a brick wall.
Doug had Red Dragon Leukemia. None of us could believe it. He was so healthy, he exercised regularly and everything. Nothing made sense. Two family members in the same town at the same time with cancer.
My mother and I stayed at Grandpa and Grandma’s house, and Brent stayed at Uncle Doug’s house along with my aunt and my 2 cousins.
Sean and Kenny were having a hard time dealing with their dad’s diagnosis (rightfully so might I add), and I could see such a significant difference in both cousins, and my aunt. My goal was to keep them from getting too down. To add some color to their faces.
But Brent was God. In his mind, HE would be the only person to cheer anyone up. HE was the greatest know-it-all and HE was the blessing, savior, and God’s right-hand-man to all saving grace.
The first morning in Brookings arose.
RING RING!!!
“Hi Ani, It’s Brent.”
“Uh…hi...how…are…you…”
“Good good…hey, do you want to take a trip to Sioux Falls with me, Sean, and Kenny?”
“Uh…lemmie get my mom’s permission first.”
“Okie Dokie Sweet pea”
And I called my mom’s cell phone, wondering what I should do. I mean…I sort of broke the “no communication” rule, but what was I supposed to do? Hang up really quickly and leave the phone off the hook? If he says hi, what should I do? Hum a response? If I hung up, he probably would’ve come over anyways. He knew where I was.
I heard a ringing from the kitchen that sounded surprisingly like…
Oh…that IS her cell phone. Great…
Brent called back.
“Hey, can you go?”
“Couldn’t get a hold of her. Heard her cell ringing from the kitchen.”
Hey…I wasn’t lying.
My mom proceeded to write an email to my uncle from my email address, explaining that he was to not have any contact with me whatsoever until he grows up and decides to be family with the whole family, instead of only controlling everyone and only associating himself with a select few.
A week later, we went to the hospital to visit my uncle who was in critical condition.
We sat down and talked to him, and made us feel better. He was always optimistic, even with the most pessimistic views. He wasn’t ready to die, yet he was calm and ready for death to steal his breath and meaning.
Just as we thought we got lucky, Brent walked in with my two cousins, sort of melancholy behind him. Brent said hi to Doug, and then hi to me. He acted like my mom and my grandpa weren’t there. It was the first time that group had been together in 7 years, yet not really together. We were all in the same room within 4 feet of each other, but the division was apparent and the hostility rising. “A house divided among itself cannot stand” (Abraham Lincoln).
Without sufficient warning, or perhaps excessive warning, my uncle passed away. We all knew it was approaching soon and were all expecting it to happen, but no matter how much you prepare for the worst, it’s never enough to save the tears from the real occurrence.
The funeral was nice, as nice as any funeral could possibly be. There were so many people that showed up. Friends of my aunt, co-workers, employees of my uncle, everyone was so willing to give us their regards. One of them even whispered to my mother, “I know he may not have shown or said it, but Doug really loved you.”
Doug was a bold person. He picked out his own funeral music. He might not have been ready to die, but he sure as hell wasn’t afraid of it. His funeral was unique, just like himself. There was a slide show of pictures of him and his family, while the motivational music of U2 was playing. Between two speeches, a guy played the bag pipes. A little unusual for a funeral maybe, but Doug was so intrigued with bag pipes, I must say, I wasn’t quite exactly shocked.
I don’t know everything that was talked about, my tears were a constant distraction, but I know that there were allusions to his favorite things, sailboats, stars, and motorcycles, even though he had so many hobbies it was hard to keep them straight.
Despite the hard times and lust for family unity, Brent chose to distant himself from the rest of the family.
He was absent from the family wake, refused to sit with the rest of the family, and stood far to the back at the cemetery.
He lost at his own game.
He may have lost the round, but the game was not over. The whole family, sleepy and ready to just rest, were taken aback when Brent took upon himself to shuffle and deal. He continued to badger and backstab whenever he found the chance and had enough time to conjure up the perfect words to hurt. Apparently nobody told him that sticks and stones are hard on bones, and continued to put down those damn draw twos, forcing us to eat his cards. One thing he’ll have to learn the hard way though, giving us cards gives us better ways to fight back. He’ll place a draw two and get something wild in return.
