Death and Glory: The Same Old Story

After a weekend of death, belated birthday parties, and uncomfortable relatives encounters I am back at work and miles away from the funeral I was semi-obligated to attend. I have an intense aversion to wakes and funerals. I find it hard to control my emotions and I am too often overwhelmed with grief. I have no strong face. My face gives to any pressure; this is why I am not a good card player.

I had the occasion to play Texas Hold 'Em at my Brother's belated birthday party on Sunday. I lost my pile of blue, red and white chips in record time and secretly replenished my pile from "the bank," the cardboard container that held the remaining chips. This method kept me in the game until the other players got wise to my trickery. It wasn't until later that evening, after I had got my hands on my brother's IPOD and created a The Cure/ The Smith's/ New Order/The Clash heavy play list, did my luck change. Doesn't seem like you perform better when you've got good music in your ears?

My father purchased a keg for the occasion and everyone was a little tipsy. It seemed strange to see my relatives drunk. The last time we had a "full" family party I was considerably younger. I probably never noticed how drunk people were then; they just seemed more fun and interested in seeing you do a back flip off the diving board twenty times. Most relatives in attendance were my great aunts, uncles and my Grandmother from Punta Gorda, home of the great hurricane disaster. They are all well into their 80's now with advice continuously rolling from their lips. For example, my Grandmother, who thought my black and white striped top was too sexy, advised me to put on a sweater; I melted in a turquoise sweater in the 85 degree heat to appease her. She is one of 11 (the Italian Catholics and their rhythm method) so there was a great number in attendance. Most of them are in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's. There was a lot of identity confusion and older folks shouting inappropriate words. My great uncle called me over, he wanted to say "I want to give you some love" (as in an innocent hug) but the words came out "I want to make love to you." I made some joke about what was in his coca cola and then slinked into the house to sit out the rest of the party.

Everyone left the party early to attend my great aunt Lena's wake. Things were festive considering, festive and uncomfortable. I did eat a year's supply of onion dip in a half an hour's time; that has to be some kind of record...

I'm happy to be back in New York and longing for Saturday nights out dancing to good music.