Family Drama.

We all have it. And if you don’t ? Count your blessings.

As you may be aware, there has been ongoing fam-dram with my relatives who shall remain nameless for some time that should have come to a head upon the death of my father. I chose the high road on all of that and decided in the best interests of my mother and my relationship with some of my family members to just not say anything more about it. It still chafes my ass to this day that I haven’t addressed it head on with the person in question, but oh well. Bygones.

This new drama is too potentially ass chafing to ignore and this time I am going to say something about it, not only here but to the person who has started the shit to begin with, face to face, like real grown-ups. I just have to wait until the time is right. Which will be soon.

I have one uncle left on my mother’s side. He is my mother’s baby brother and her only living sibling.

My uncle is an asshole.

I’ve been well aware of this fact for quite some time but basically never had an issue with it because it didn’t really affect me or anyone close to me. Well, it did affect my brother but they have hated each other for so long now that not only have I forgotten what the reason is behind it, I’ve also given up on trying to mend that fence. I tried once when my daddy was dying by telling them they both needed to get along, if not for each other then for my mother, and when that plan collapsed in about two minutes I gave up on that idea. He will stir stir stir shit just for the hell of it and more often than not delights in other’s misfortunes. Yet he is a certified paramedic and a volunteer firefighter that jumps at the chance to help a stranger in need. He’s a total Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I don’t get it. Despite that, my uncle and I have always gotten along fairly well despite his penchant for asshattery. When I was a kid he was always the fun uncle who took you to movies and to Six Flags, helped me learn to ski and would spend hours driving us around in the boat or pulling us on tubes while we screamed our heads off. He also has a wicked sense of humor and his wit matches and even exceeds many who do it for a living. Sometimes it turns snarky and he can be insulting and even hateful, but people would say “That’s just Kenny” and go on about their business. The only time I really had an issue is when he made some smart-ass comment about Gregory, but he and Gregory had a little talk and that stopped that mess pretty quick.  I also decided that since the man has been married six times any advice on my life and who I may be in love with should be better left to someone with an iota of sense.

But this time, the son of a bitch has gone too far.

During the summer my uncle is like an annoying rash. You can’t get rid of him. He works four days a week for ALAPOCO and the rest of the time he is at home doing his thing or at our place on the lake. He is either in the pool or off on one of the boats or jet-skiing or whatever and will always invite me along on his next adventure. He can usually be counted on to help with whatever you need be it moving something or helping with some project or whatever. I always felt like I could depend on him if I really needed him. My father who lay dying of cancer asked him to make sure to take care of my mother and I when he was gone, to look after us and be sure we were ok. My uncle looked into the eyes of my father, who had treated him like a brother all of his life, shook his hand and promised that he would indeed do just that.

He lied.

Oh at first he called my mom every day, came down a few times a week and would usually come by several times on the weekends. Then around the end of June we both noticed he wasn’t around at all, it was like he disappeared. He did have some type of surgery on his eyes so we thought that was the likely reason. When he didn’t come to the lake AT ALL for the 4th of July I knew something was seriously wrong. When I saw him at my cousin’s bash and he was standoffish even to my mother and barely civil to me it took me about 5 seconds to figure out why.

He’s jealous.

Always has been. My uncle thinks that he is my mother’s third child. Part of that is her own fault. She babied him all of his life and basically let him do what he wanted with all of our property and never told him no. When we lived in Singapore he lived in our lake house, used our boats and had a grand old time all with my mother’s blessing. When my mother bought something for my brother or me, 9 times out of 10, she bought one for Kenny too. He wants it all but just ask him for something of his and oh the drama. His philosophy is apparently what’s mine is mine and what’s yours ought to be too.

The first thing that pissed him off that I can trace this back to was the fact that my brother and I have both been using my dad’s truck. As a matter of fact it sits in my driveway now. He’s also mad that my dad gave my cousins, my brother and myself some of the many guns he had. Never mind that Kenny got some too, oh no, in his mind, he should have gotten them all. Then there’s the boathouse my brother just built. He’s convinced that my mother paid for it. I don’t think she did, but hey if so, guess what? NONE of my business. Nor is it his. But that’s just how he thinks. Jealousy. Ugliness. Feeling sorry for himself. When your own daughter tells other family members that she can’t stand being around her father because he’s acting like a shit, there’s a problem there.

And then, there’s the Jeep. Or should I say Jeeps.

Ever since I have had my Jeep, my uncle has asked me to sell it to him. Mind you, I’ve had it new off the lot since 1997. I have so far refused. My mother got one in 2001 and he has asked her the same thing. The man is not poor. He and his wife have both worked for Alabama Power for more than 30 years respectively, they live in a house paid for by his in-laws years ago on land that was given to them. They have no extravagant hobbies, do not travel and have two kids, one married and on his own, one in college on a full scholarship. I cannot even remember the last time my uncle went on a vacation that took him out of Alabama. He takes off for a month every year to hunt on land that is 3 miles from his own house. He can buy his own damn Jeep.

A few months ago, my mother told me that she would give me her Jeep if I wanted to sell mine to have some extra money since I am still in probate hell. At first I was torn because hey,  that’s my baby. It’s my first Jeep and I have crazy love for it. But I got to thinking about it and it made sense. Her’s is newer, has a lift kit I covet, the radio works all of the time (mine is possessed) and it’s nicer. And despite the fact that I had promised it to Patrick when he turned 16, I figure I won’t be seeing him ever again if his good christian mother has any say in it, so I finally made the decision to sell mine and the first person I told? My uncle. Who hemmed and hawed and said he’d have to think about even though I gave him a hell of a price and my Jeep is in damn good shape with low mileage, save for the devil radio. He never gave me an answer, so I let a friend of the family look at it, and they came over and drove it. Right before the 4th of July. Around the same time my uncle became persona non gratis. Coincidence? Whatever.

Over the weekend my mother and I took a ride in her Jeep to go see some lake property my cousin is working on. When we left, I said “Let’s go by Kenny’s and see if he’s alive!” Turns out my dear old uncle isn’t the only one who can stir shit. Dale blood runs deep.

Upon pulling into the driveway we see my uncle, alive and well sitting on the front porch with his kids and my aunt. I blew the horn and said that we were looking for a long lost relative. He walked over to the Jeep with a look on his face like he smelled dog shit and said “Oh is this yours now?” I told him no, mine was at home. He responded that he’d heard I was trying to sell it and it would have been nice if I’d let him know. My mom and I, along with his own daughter, both reminded him that I had indeed given him first chance. His selective memory had kicked in by this point and he refuted our statements and continued to have the constipated face of a man in need of a good enema or one runny fart. My aunt then walked by with a plate of apple pie that she was taking to her mother next door. Turns out they had a nice lunch, with pie, for my uncles birthday which just happens to be today. (Happy birthday mother fucker.) My mom said that it would have been nice if we were invited for pie, but that she loved him anyway and she wished he wouldn’t be mad. He said he wasn’t mad, that everything was fine, but the tone of his voice and his sneer said otherwise. My mom then said that she couldn’t believe he had abandoned her like this after what she had lost.

(this is where I GOT MAD AS HELL)

My uncle’s response? “What do you mean? You haven’t lost nothing.”

I resisted the urge to fling open the door and knock his sorry smart ass into the dirt and stomp on his face until it was a bloody pulp, and instead gripped the wheel so hard I feared it or my knuckles would snap. Through gritted teeth I said “What the hell do you mean? She lost my daddy, and now she thinks she’s lost you.”

I then proceeded to tell him that he should remember what he told me about Barbara, his sister, my aunt. When my grandmother died back in the late 80′s, Kenny and Barbara had a falling out about who got what, as it usually happens when people die. Any notion of sibling love went straight to hell and they didn’t speak unless forced to for years. Of course my mother was stuck in the middle and agonized over it endlessly until my aunt’s death in 2007.  Last year after Gregory died, Kenny told me that his biggest regret in life was turning his back on his sister and that he was hurt every day by his actions and that if he could make it right he would. Well I’ll be damned, not even a year later and he’s doing it AGAIN. Guess that speech in the carport with the fake tears and all was his usual bullshit.

Because my mother and my cousins were there I held my tongue, but I won’t for long. I will have my say with him, because no matter what I feel about it, in the end he is hurting my mother and breaking a promise he made to my father. I cannot abide by either. I will not allow it to happen again.

I was never ashamed of anyone in my family. I’ve had cousins in prison and people who are crazy as bedbugs and people who just aren’t worth a shit, but in the end, they’re family. I was never sorry to say I was related to any of them. Until now.

Now I am ashamed. I’m sorry.

And I’m mad.

And I’m not gonna use the excuse “That’s just Kenny.”

Not this time.