Today, we add a new family to our clan. My beloved cousin Ryan is marrying his beautiful girl Casey, and not only are we fortunate enough to be able to call her our own, but also her wonderful family as well. The blending of these fabulous people with ours can only be described as pure dumb luck on our part, and we are truly the lucky ones.

It still surprises me how time moves, and how life so quickly went from this …

To this …

But I’m glad that it did.

Much love and happiness for you always Ryan and Casey. May the warmth of the world shine on you always, and let the clouds that darken your days be few and far between. Congratulations.

I love my family.

With that said, I’ll continue.

At one time, my family embarrassed me. We all go through it, the nosy mom during your teen years, butting heads with daddy, senile Grannies, annoying siblings, drunken uncles. Or in my case, Uncle Asshole and his whole trilogy. I call his story Anus Wars.

Eventually I got to that grown-up part in life where the embarrassment is actually a source of pride that I actually turned out NORMAL, despite the obvious genetic hurdles facing me. I used to shake my fist and say “I’m a TRIMBLE dammit, none of that Dale in me!” Trimble is my paternal family’s name, and Dale is from my mother’s side, where it seems most of “the crazy” sprouts from. My middle name is Dale. I know you all thought the “D” was for DAMN-AMAZING, but alas, no. I have the middle name of a dead NASCAR star. And a chipmunk.

Anyway, they don’t embarrass me so much anymore, but damn can they get on my last nerve. Before I tell you this story, let me quickly give you a bit of background. Ready?

My first cousin Debra has two siblings, a younger sister, Lynn , and a now deceased younger brother, William aka “Buddy”. Debra and her siblings are not only my cousins, but my Aunt, Aunt and Uncle.

WTF, right?

Bear with me.

My late aunt (dearly departed) was quite the wild woman in her early years. She had her children young, then left them to fend for themselves while she was drugging and drinking it up. My maternal grandparent’s legally adopted them when they were kids in order to be able to provide for them. So by the legal definition, my cousins are also my aunts and uncle and my mother’s nieces and nephew are legally her sisters and brother. This also means that their kids are my second AND first cousins. Good lord it’s like we live in Kentucky. Thank goodness all that is on HER side of the family. Heh.

So anyway, get the gist? We are close. Like, legally even. Well, most of us. Anyway, Debra is in the midst of battling cancer and is raising the second of Lynn’s two children, having already raised the first who is out on her own now. Lynn (my cousin / aunt – and don’t even ask what hybrid of that word I came up with for her) is a woeful excuse for a mother and has no business around that child. She has been an addict most of her life. Two of her male companions overdosed and died in her company. Several years ago, she was arrested and placed in prison for sale of controlled substances. Her young daughter came to live with Deb and her husband at that time. Since then, they have raised her as their own, providing for her and are giving her a life that she would never have with her own mother. The times she was allowed to visit her mother post-prison, questionable events happened, so that stopped. They have had temporary custody for years,and recently, my still drug-addled cousin has started making noise about getting her back. She works as a cook at a local squat & gobble, is still using, and her home has a revolving door for thugs and folks that do not need nor are allowed to be around children. She is pulled over on a regular basis and her vehicle has been impounded more than once when it’s out with dealers on a crack loan. How she keeps getting it back is beyond me.

Debra and her husband have been asking her to sign custody papers for months, and she has refused. Her older child even tried to get her to go, and she said that she was going to “get better and get ____ back.” To which her own daughter replied ” Mom you said that 10 years ago when they took me in and you haven’t changed yet.” She still wouldn’t sign. This has caused great stress to most of my family, mostly Deb, who really doesn’t need the added stress. The signing of the papers would ensure that they would not have a battle and that ______ would stay in her stable home which is really the only one she’s known. Everyday, Lynn would call my mother, complaining that everyone was against her and she’d never see her daughter again and blah blah blah and on and on. Oh, the paper’s talk about my time in jail. Oh, they talk about how many tickets I’ve had. Oh, they make me look like a bad mother. Oh, no shit?

Tuesday, I’d had enough. I had tried to stay out of it but just couldn’t take it anymore. You know that saying “If Mama ain’t happy, nobody’s happy?” Yea, my mother wasn’t happy, and hey, shit rolls downhill. Debra was also on her way to MD Anderson for tests and that is baggage that she didn’t need to take along.

So, when I got out of school, I went to her house and had a chat with her. Basically I told her she was signing those damn papers and I meant NOW. She said she didn’t have enough gas to get to the attorney’s office. I told her she could ride with me. Then she said she had to go visit a friend in the hospital and needed her car, and she didn’t have enough minutes on her pre-paid phone to call him. Before her next excuse spun me into an all out frenzy wherein I woke up in prison and my mother was interviewed on Dateline, I decided to resort to the only thing you can do to get an addict to cooperate.

Bribery.

I bought her $60 worth of gas, a pack of cigarettes and a 30 pack of Natural Light Ice which I held hostage ’til after the signing. Hell yes, I enabled her ass. I would have used the Devil’s tail dipped in ink made of kitten blood to get her to sign those papers. And I knew she needed basic necessities, so I told her after she signed the papers I’d take her to WalMart. I mean come on y’all, she’s still my family, and despite her faults, I love her and I don’t want her to be without. And that’s what kills me. I love her and I hate what she has done to herself. When I was a kid, I IDOLIZED all of my cousins, her and her brother especially. They were both so funny, so full of life, the jesters of the family. Her brother, my “councle”, was in the military for many years and did great for so long. Until he got out, came back to this town and took that path so many take. He overdosed on Oxycontin and died 8 years ago. I hate the life they chose and what it did to them, to me, to everyone who loved them. So I can’t just turn my back on the one that’s still alive, not completely. I remember when Gregory’s best friends and co-workers did somewhat of the same to him, and how he was devastated.

Alright, let me get off the pity path and get back to my story. We went to the attorney and she signed the papers. Begrudgingly. I hugged her, told her I loved her and that this was the best Valentine’s gift ever that she could give to her daughter and her family, and I promised her that I would bring _______ to see her with Deb’s blessing. Then we struck out for Wal-Mart. And on the way, she got pulled over and ticketed for not wearing a seat belt. I swear, she has a black cloud over her, much of it of her own making, but still. We had just left the office and were two red lights down. She claims she was pulling the seat belt from the holder  to put it on after she lit her cigarette. I can also say that I’m pretty sure that cop was looking for her. When we left the gas station, we turned on the road to the attorney’s office and on the way he passed us. I was behind Lynn and saw him tap his brakes and turn into a parking lot. At the time I thought ok, coincidence. When we walked out of the attorney’s office, he was parked up the street at the courthouse annex. I noticed because it was directly behind where we had parked. He was in a slick-top (no lights) unit and is the traffic enforcement officer. Lynn pulled out before I did because I got hung in oncoming traffic and aforementioned red lights. As I went to turn on Hwy 31, I saw blue lights. And her SUV. Needless to say, my first thought was thankfulness that those papers were signed. My second? Her ass is going to jail. And frankly, thank goodness I didn’t give her that 30 pack of Nasty Ice because she would have been well into a can or two by then. By some Festivus miracle, all she got was a ticket. Her license and insurance were fine, and no outstanding warrants. Phew. I do firmly believe that the cop targeted her vehicle because it has been involved in drug deals before, and obviously they are familiar with her. Which really kind of sucks actually, but that’s how things work.

So anyway, we go to WalMart, I get her some groceries, some toiletries, etc. Oh, and one of her phone cards, a $45 one. But one thing you have to know before I tell you the next part, it’s never enough for her. She wants more and more, gets demanding and pissy if you say no. My mom gave her 3 pairs of reading glasses two weeks ago, and she wanted a new pair that was $19. I said no. She said she’d just shoplift them when I walked away. At that point I threatened to leave her ass in there grocery and beer less, and she humbled up a bit. When we were checking out , I laughed and said I was going to use my receipt for taxes as a charitable contribution to break the tension. Looking at it now, that was actually a really shitty thing to say on my part, but y’all, my nerves. She has that drug head twitch, loudness, and just the energy she put off was making me a nervous wreck. She got mad and started to cry, which made me feel like a total asshole, as I should have. We took the stuff to her car, I hugged her again and she left.

I don’t know if she was still crying, I couldn’t look at her. All I know is that I did what I had to do and those papers are finally signed. That is one less burden off my family. And in a small way, I did something good for her, I think. I just hope that she knows she is loved, no matter her faults, because really, as family, isn’t that what we are supposed to do ?

Tomorrow after school, I’m gonna go by and get her a $5 pizza and a Mountain Dew. And tell her I love her.

What else can I do?

Over the weekend I found myself unexpectedly immersed into something of a time warp. I was going through photo albums and boxes of things that belonged to my grandparents, and I found a guest book and photo albums from the years that they lived in Monrovia, Liberia.

My grandfather was an amazing man. He was born in the swamps of Louisiana where his mother died in childbirth, and was raised by my hunter/trapper/ businessman great grandfather until he was 12. When he was 12, one of my great-great aunts came and took him to New Orleans and enrolled him in private school. At the time my my Papaw did not speak English at all, just French. Despite this, he managed to graduate with honors and attended Ole Miss where he received an engineering degree. He joined the  US Navy and quickly rose to Commander , and also had some ties with the Seabees. After WWII he began working with the US Government at the Pentagon, surveying land, assisting with naval engineering and consulting. He was one of the founding investors and employees of  The Liberia Company  and he, my grandmother and my dad moved to Liberia from Virginia when my father was a little boy. They moved onto a large plantation that produced coffee, cocoa, and rubber for the Firestone Corporation. After the original founder of the company died, Mr. Juan Trippe took over. Mr. Trippe was also the Chairman of Pan-American World Airways, and this is how my Papaw also became employed by Pan Am and friends with Charles Lindbergh and his wife Anne. I originally wrote about Mr. Lindbergh and how I’ll always associate seersucker suits with him in this post.

When I was a kid in the 70′s I remember going to NYC with my grandparent’s, and my grandfather would go to the office while my Granny and I would see the sights and shows. I also remember when Mr. Trippe died and his son Charlie took over the company. Charlie and my dad were close in age and their names are interspersed through the book as well. The Trippe’s were always a part of my life, as was Mrs. Antoinette Tubman, the wife of the late Liberian President William V.S. Tubman, also a good friend of my grandparent’s. I didn’t realize until I began delving into history that President and Mrs. Tubman actually lived in a cottage on the plantation next door to my grandparent’s while the Executive Mansion was being renovated. I remember answering the phone when she would call and being fascinated by her accent and the feeling of joy that came through the lines from her voice.

I also started reading a book written by Bettye Stettinius Trippe, Juan’s wife and friend of my grandparent’s. In it she mentions staying with my grandparent’s in Monrovia, and the large cocktail parties they had. Apparently my love of cocktail parties comes very naturally. Heh. Since finding the guest book I have been OBSESSED with rediscovering the history of my Papaw’s association with Pan-Am and LIBCO. I have googled some of the names in the book and am blown away by the results. It’s so cool to find interesting stuff about someone you loved who was instrumental in making part of the world’s history that is still relevant today. The comments in the book are some of the funniest things though, just from looking at them, I can tell there was some heavy duty entertaining going on at that plantation ! It also cracks me up to see my father’s name interspersed throughout the book, and for address he boldly wrote “I live here !”

It makes me so excited to be able to look back on all of this history and think about what an amazing life my father and grandparents had, but at the same time it makes me sad. Sad that they are gone , and that my grandfather passed away when I was 15, well before the time I could really appreciate his extraordinary life and it’s impact. But I’m thankful for the memories that I do have with all of them, and that each of their experiences helped shape me and has provided me with what I can absolutely say has been a wonderful life.

I love you Papaw. A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck.

Top left: my grandfather surveying, Center: naval photo , Bottom left: heading to the inaugaration

Top right : HQ in Monrovia Bottom right: Papaw greeting President Tubman