My Dad had only one sister, Leona. This was in a time when farmers had as many kids as possible. I guess two was grandma's limit.
Leona ran as fast and as far as she could from the farm. I don't think she ever got over being stigmatized and terrorized by the "urban" kids from my home town. Way back then, they were unbelievabley cruel to "country kids," a practice which still hadn't entirely ended in my own time.
She never knocked that chip off her shoulder, but then again, she never bothered to look to far outside herself either. When I was young she was my favorite aunt, but as I realized just how self-absorbed she was, she became my least favorite. I could tell many stories about her self-absorption, but I'll just summarize it this way: She never bothered to learn her only brother's children's names. Oh, she could pronounce them, but every Christmas, our presents came addressed to : Sarah, Darrin, and Janis. EVERY FUCKING YEAR. FOR DECADES. Don't bother asking if we politely corrected her. We did.
For the record, they are spelled Sara, Darren, and Janice.
Bitch.
1 comment:
I don't know any of the people involved, but could it be that she had a problem with spelling? Course she could have been self-centered too. Just sayin'.
Reading some of your other posts, your hostility sounds a lot like mine, or at least the way I often feel.
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