Life & Death

Nothing brings people together quite like a death in the family. Funerals do not discriminate- young and old, relative or otherwise, interested or required--- a funeral is like a social black hole. You can either swim against the rip-tide, and wear yourself out, or roll with it and enjoy the plunge out to sea (so much for being led beside still waters).

And so my family survived a 3-day weekend without much drama or shocking family secrets revealed (Jerry Springer audience sighs and dejectedly sits down); nevertheless, there was enough activity to keep me on my toes and attentive despite my sleep-deprived state:

-Cousins: I have 5 cousins on my mom's side. Three are about my age, and the other two are youngins (aged six and nine). This was our first chance to meet (well ... meet as speaking and conversation-holding people, not while changing diapers and smelling poo). We played, ran, laughed, and sang songs from Enchanted (I challenge any of you to find another 27-year-old cousin who is cool enough to know all the words).

-Mischief managed: I forget that the ideas I come up with are not always appropriate for children, including: trying to fly a kite inside the house using wind generated from a standing fan, catching bubbles on your tongue (which are carcinogenic, I was later informed), sneaking cookies 10 minutes before dinner, doing line dances in the middle of the grocery store aisle, and claiming that Lufthansa airlines is the best because they serve free alcohol.

-The art of Haiku: In honor of our late grandfather, an avid haiku poet, the following were constructed:

Drinking with cousins
And watching Lord of the Rings
What is malt made of?

Granddaddy is dead
We come here now to mourn him
His neighbor's a queer

-Gay gay gay: In reference to the previous haiku, my gaydar spiked to unprecedented levels after the memorial service while munching on "Thanksgiving-stuffed-between-two-buns" type sandwiches provided by a local church. My grandfather's neighbor, who pinged on my boy-barometer way before the stereotypes began to kick in (lover of music, noticed I had lost weight compared to my photo 6 years prior, and a 1st grade teacher), indicated that his wife had gone with him to some flower show a few weekends before-- which promptly caused me to choke on my food and cough hysterically (gag reflex, you'd think I'd have had that fixed by now).

-Gay gay gay (part deux): My six-year-old cousin turns and asks politely, "Do you have a girlfriend?" Used to this question from kids, I didn't bat an eyelash and honestly replied, "No, I do not have a girlfriend. Do you have a girlfriend?" ... "No, I'm a girl!" ... "Well girls can have girlfriends, too." ... "Yeah ... when I asked you that question something weird happened. I don't know what, but something weird happened". Damn perceptive six-year-olds!!!

-Somberness: Funerals are not always such a sad affair. My sister and I were jamming to the Lion King's "Circle of Life" on the way to the service (appropriate), as well as Beyonce's "Get Me Bodied" (somewhat less appropriate). The Starbucks barista, amused by our glimmer and giggle as we eagerly dived into our morning mochas, suggested we try on our somber hats before we arrive at the grave site.

-Albums and photos: The time-honored tradition of pouring over the pictures and moving pictures of years past. It's embarrassing, like that feeling you get when someone walks in on you in the bathroom-- you haven't done anything wrong, but you feel awkward nonetheless. Moreover, in the home-made movies, you re-experience the idiotic and extremely flamboyant things you said as a child that should have clued your parents in to your sexuality about 15 years prior.

We sat around and swapped stories, as families tend to do: the one with granddaddy fighting with the bakery delivery woman for bringing stale cinnamon buns, the one where a 3-year-old David puked all over granddaddy's table after tasting bad Chinese (and thus instilling a fear of Chinese food until the age of 19), or the one where granddaddy tolerated the fancy of his adolescent grandchildren and wore a bicycle helmet while assuming his role as the Good Wizard in an amateur production of insanity.

The entire weekend reminded me that the memories we leave behind continue long past our brief mortality. So ... what will my legacy be???