This is an almost word for word true story. Who has the imagination to make this shit up? Sorry, cousins, but you are what you are.
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My favorite uncle on my mothers' side had passed away. He and one aunt were my favorites, and mom insisted I go, saying he had left me something.
I would have went anyway, after all he was my favorite uncle.
He was the most practical man I ever knew. He was smart enough to work as an electrician for NASA for awhile in the sixties, until they found out he couldn't read. He had taken the application home and had his son fill it out, and went to work the next week. He could read schematics, just not words. It all came out when they wanted to promote him.
He confessed, and they liked him so much they offered him tutoring, but he packed his family up and moved back home.
All the members on that side of the family ran to a certain type, usually about five eight or nine.
They most all weighed about two fifty, with brown to sandy blond, thinning hair.
All the women tended to be about five to five three, with brown to blond thinning hair, and weigh about two fifty. Needless to say, that part of the family tree didn't branch much.
They also tended to marry, if they bothered, when the men were about twenty five and the women were about fifteen. The average length of marriage was about three years. They lived two states away[think peaches]from us[think long leaf pines and tar]and in my opinion that was plenty close enough.
We took after my dads' side of the family. I was six three, and three of my sisters were five ten or taller. I always imagined how Gulliver felt when he was in Lilliput whenever we went to family reunions.
I packed my suit, put my mom and two sisters in my SUV, and took the four hour trip.
The service was held at the funeral home chapel. We stopped at the home and changed before we went. We needn't have bothered, most showed up in jeans or casual attire. Some were eying us, and I could tell what they were thinking.
They thought we felt we were better than them, and while they were mostly right to a degree, I never disrespected any of them. The only time I had an actual disagreement with any of them was at another funeral. An aunt had passed, and her crackhead great grandson was giving his mother grief about not going to get his father. They were divorced, he had his own car, I felt like if he wanted to come he would have. I distracted him by telling him I had a joint, and we needed to go outside to smoke it.
He immediately shut up and followed me out to the front porch. It was an old farmhouse, sitting on a rise overlooking a small valley, and the front porch was about six feet off the ground. No one was there but us.
"Light it up bro, I need to mellow."
He was about five six, and being a crackhead, he only weighed about a hundred pounds. I laughed.
"There is no joint, asshole. I just needed to get you out of the house, you were causing a scene and upsetting your mother and grandmother. Calm your ass down before you go back in there, show some respect. They're grieving."
His happy face turned to a scowl.
"Might have known, you goody two shoes. Fuck you, I'll talk to them any way I want. What you gonna do about it?"
Anyone that has ever known me knew that was exactly the wrong thing to say. I smiled at him.
"I don't really know, but if we stand here long enough I'll think of something."
He tried to push past me.
"I got it! I'll throw your skinny ass off this porch, then go down and throw you back up. I'll do that until it stops being fun, maybe by then you'll have calmed down and rethink your attitude."
He started to smart off when I picked him up and threw him off the porch. Got good distance, I thought. He lay there cussing until I started down the steps. He jumped up and ran around the house.
I was walking up the steps when I heard laughter. One of my older cousins had been lying on the porch swing and heard the whole thing. He grinned at me.
