Cousins

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Recently, I attended the “Second Annual First Cousins Reunion” in bucolic Midlothian, Texas. You may recall the first such gathering occurred last October. At that gathering, my cousin Kathy organized a video recording of all the cousins in attendance. We answered questions ranging from “What was your pet name for your grandmother?” to “How would you describe your childhood?” In my opinion, they were all trick questions.

At the second affair, I learned I have 26 first cousins. I have no idea if that is correct. I have always settled for “a boat load” as close enough. Many of them showed up for this event, too. There were no children present. Our host, my cousin Carla, was concerned we might be offended if she came right out and said, “Got kids? Leave em at home!” Taking my crew anywhere is about as much work as, say, launching a nuclear aircraft carrier. Accordingly, I am hard to offend in this area. I saw no grief-stricken cousins, either.

So, we gathered at the appointed hour. Each of us brought something good to eat while Carla furnished drinks and delicious meat dishes. It was truly a feast to remember. It was particularly nice that so many thought to bring dessert. There must have been at least six choices and I tried as many as I could fit on a plate.

After the meal, I discovered cousin Kathy planned to preview the video. She said the original was over five hours long and by carefully editing out the most horrid scenes, she could almost get it on one DVD. I felt a mixture of dread and relief. My stomach knotted up as I recalled my performance last October. I recalled thinking, “Help! I’ve started talking and I can’t shut up!” as the video camera stared at me. The good news was there was a chance my segment was on the cutting room floor.

I had no such luck. When I suggested that my speech was expendable, Kathy was unsympathetic.

Everyone gathered in front of the drive-in sized TV. Then, the video began to roll. I believe they ordered us by age, possibly because the senior cousins might not survive until the end of the reel. I was distressed to find myself close to the front of the line. My cousins Becky and Buddy did great. They seemed so at ease and wise. Gayle charmed everyone with stories about her mother, my aunt Geraldine. Time seemed to speed up as my turn neared. I resolved not to throw-up or do anything disgusting and took my turn in the “hot seat.”

Now, I watched myself babble about my misspent youth with a sense of relief. Sure, I was funny looking. Okay, I seemed a little hoarse too, but I was busy shooting the bull that morning. The one seriously bad moment came when a smarty-pants cousin asked if I recalled any wisdom or sayings my parents, particularly my father, used when I was growing up. At that moment, my brain melted.

“Whatever could you be talking about?” I heard myself saying.

I watched in horror as my video persona skipped over one of the most colorful parts of my, or anybody’s, childhood. I think I had a moment of panic. After all, none of the others used THAT kind of language during their interview.

I shall correct a little bit of that dreadful omission.  Here are a few of my dad's favorite expressions.

• “Oh, horse poop!” My dad never said, “Poop” in his life. This expression covered a broad range of surprising or disappointing situations.

• “Colder’n a well digger’s bottom in the Yukon!” My dad never said “Bottom” in his life. This one meant it was cold.

• “It’s Bottom deep to a tall Indian!” (See above for info on “Bottom.) It meant it was deep, like snow or water.

• “You couldn’t pour pee from a boot with the directions written on the heel!” He never said “Pee” either. This meant you did not follow his exact instructions, usually with a poor result.

• “%^&*() )(^%^@*^%$!” This one covered miscellaneous events such as totaling his pickup truck or breaking his new folding rule for the twelfth time in a row. It is sort of a catchall.

Well, I hope this in some small way atones for my momentary lapse last year. If anyone knows of a good one I missed, send it.
I fear we shall not see his like again.

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