And So I Go to the Bahamas....

With the remainder of my immediate family, to meet up with my family of origin. All this to celebrate my father's 80th birthday (my mother's 78th, which occurs 5 days previous, apparently deserves no such honor). Sun, sand, crystal waters, friendly "natives"-what's not to like? And yet I am filled with dread, angst and resentment. Sometimes I wouldn't buy me in a remaindered bin. But I am not usually an ungrateful person, nor am I unkind or unappreciative. This trip has got me in a tizzy.

All day I have been mulling this over: why dread? Why such anxiety? My parents are a known entity. Fairly self-centered people, full of opinions and the desire to pontificate, but good people nonetheless and they try in their way to make us feel at home. Dad is paying for our plane tickets, a fact that is a wonderful gift, but also an unwelcome burden. Methinks middle-aged children should be able to pay for their own plane tickets.... I also dislike obligation in its myriad forms. The subtle pressure it creates, the guilt.

Then there is this: it's a house. We are all living together--who thought this was a good idea? We haven't lived under one roof since before I was married and it was hell then. <lightbulb> I think that may be it or at least a very large part of my dread. I did not enjoy the raucous, dog eat dog existence that living with my brother and eldest sister entailed. As the youngest, I was most often the most taken advantage of and the last to get consideration. Sad to say, but at 48, that still rankles a small bit. Not normally, and on usual family visits, I can ignore it. But now I am being thrown back into that milieu and it is making me very uncomfortable.
Of course things are different now, right? Yes and no. I know I'm a grown up (stop laughing!), but Bro and Sis don't. Sis still sees me as about 12. Bro--who knows? He is not the focus of my worry. It is the thought of Sis that is making my stomach churn today. I am nauseated and hungry at the same time, IOW, miserable. She is bringing her SO. Ok. But that changes the dynamics even more, as my parents want to impress him, he my parents, Sis parents, him and us etc. It's all too much.

Sis is not a person who is flexible, spontaneous or well, fun. She thinks she is all of these things, but her humor is too cruel, too sharp and too snide. There is no softer side to Sis. There is no bucking you up when you're down or patting you on the back for something well done. It's wall to wall snark, 24/7. It's exhausting. Add to that her need to dominate conversations, interject her opinion no matter the subject, and to control agendas, she is a formidable opponent. There is no kicking back and lazing around with Sis. If you're not with her, you're against her. I can hear the judgmental crap already: "So, you're just going to sit here and read? You're missing out on X. You'd think that you'd take advantage of this opportunity to experience Y."

So, I'm probably getting all worked up about stuff I cannot control, so probably shouldn't mind fuck, right? But I can't stop. One reason I am not an actor (well, this and talent) is because the pre-opening jitters are so very bad for me. I'll be much better once I'm there, but right now, I'm in a helluva state.

It's not just family dynamics. It's the money, which we can ill afford. It's the knowledge that my parents are going to look around a circle of family and think that it is stable and good--Norman Rockwell come to life. And then, of course, I have to tell them after Xmas that their basking in the good fortunes of their offspring has suffered a significant dent....

I am the only married child. I am the only child with children of my own. My kids are examined under various microscopes by my sibs. Bro wants to be the "cool uncle", but unfortunately, he encourages the kids to be irresponsible and reckless. The older 2 have said that they "can't wait" to get drunk with Uncle C while down there. That is not an easy thing for me to hear. Sis, never having so much as babysat, feels free to criticize everything from the kids' vocabulary to their choice of clothing. It's like we're all characters in Sis' play, but we are sans script. I miss one of my other sisters terribly. Together we would mock and poke fun at all of the dynamics, which made them all manageable somehow. And, for me at least, when I am with my family of origin, I am aware of the ghosts of the sisters who have died. That fact paints a melancholy, a sour subtle note to the proceedings.

Later today I have to write a tribute to my dad. We are supposed to share these out loud after the Big Dinner. I'm not real comfortable doing that, either. Writing it and giving it to him to read, sure. Reading it aloud in front of Sis and Bro (not to mention various cousins, aunts and others), not so much.

This isn't really a blog. More of a journal. I needed to get this out somewhere. TH doesn't get this kind of stuff and won't listen to it (not that he should, really, but not having an audience means it has to go somewhere). I hope to blog the rest of my trip like I did Iceland. I hope I do have fun. I know I will have some fun. But knowing that doesn't ameliorate the nerves now...

Day One: Welcome to Eastern Delight

11/21/10 After a day of travel, most of which was completely hassle free and smooth, but quite tiring, we arrived here outside Nassau. Actually, we accidentally met my parents and brother in the airport, and Sis and her SO were there to meet the parents as well. We followed them in a rental car cavalcade to a stunning villa called Eastern Delight. This is how the other half lives. Dayum.

We are staying in a 6 bedroom, 4-bathroom villa with a massive eat in kitchen, formal dining room, balcony, patio, side patio, outdoor private pool. There is maid service. There are tile floors throughout--handmade ceramic tiles. This is fucking amazing.*

Sis has actually been really good. Seriously, I think she's really trying to make this a good trip for us all. Her SO seems nice, but quiet. I just can't lose my concern about MONEY. Sis lives in a world that is not my world. Example: it's Sunday, and as such, 99% of Nassau is closed, even the restaurants. So, Sis says, we'll go to the Sheraton: it has 4 restaurants and surely we can find something for all of us there. And we do. Lovely Italian dinner, I had a fantastic pasta/lobster dish. But my god--the prices!
Ok, we can say that this is the first night and that's our Big Expense etc., but that's not how this seems to be structured. Sis doesn't know (and I don't blame her for this--how could she?) how expensive kids are. Multiply anything by 5 and it adds up. We can't keep up with this level of lifestyle (and not that it isn't grand and wonderful, but I don't really want to.)
I can see this vaca rivaling Iceland in cost. We are possibly going to go to a botanical garden tomorrow and see (I kid you not) precision flamingos. Is that not the coolest thing you've heard of today? Yes, it is.

#2 son seems to be quite happy. Greg is doing well, although he suffered his own sticker shock when the steal of a deal of the rental car turned out to not be such a steal at all: each additional driver is an additional charge, and we bought the insurance because we're not covered outside the USA (we think--stupid us; we didn't check).

It’s late and I’m tired, but so far all the angst and anxiety I had has been for naught. Heh I’m a last ditcher by nature. Sis is as controlling and ridiculous as I’ve said, but so far she seems to be really trying to make it good for all. Time will tell, but I’m grateful for whatever good comes.

*As the week unfolded, we realized that the A/C did not quite work, nor did the refrigerator. You cannot run the washer and dryer at the same time and only one person can shower at a time. Also, the TV upstairs did not work, nor did the internet connection: the router worked fine, so it was not the house at fault for that.

Day Two: Cracks in the Facade
11/22/10
A day. Kind of frustrating, but also good and some fun. Found a good grocery store this morning—food etc is VERY expensive here. 1 gallon milk is $7.00! Also, trying to MOVE these people is incredibly difficult. Sis has to do X, Grandpa Y, SO wants to read. Grandma needs to do Z etc. Tried to get to see this one Fort (Ft Charlotte) since 1000. We finally left for it about 2pm, and then we blew by it by accident ending up on the far end of the island, near Jaws Beach and Cliffton Heritage Museum. We stopped at both places—we may go back to the Heritage Place tomorrow. By the time we got back to the Fort, it was closed for the day. So, on impulse, we went to this animal zoo kind of place—Ardastra(?), where flamingos have been trained to march in precision and follow military orders. Yeah. Well, lemme put it this way: National Geographic stopped by and did an article on them in 1957, and the place is still milking that bit of publicity. It was cheesy, and silly and fun. The animals were kind of neat, especially the small great cat (starts with a C, cannot recall name). Bro was being a bit of a pain—not wanting to go there, not being very nice about stopping. A man there “made” Bro kiss the cockatoo, then hold it and went and got a macaw and put it on Bro’s head! I got pics and that made it worth it.

Then the trip quickly went south. We wanted to get home for dinner, but ran into traffic. Such bad traffic that we were sure that there must have been an accident—a bad one. This theory was strengthened by the passage of 2 SUVs with light and sirens. Bro became jerkish, insisting we get off this road that it would be “easier and faster” to find an alternate route. But all alternates were just as clogged. Plus, the sun was going down and now we were heading west (we needed to go east) and I tend to lose my sense of direction after dark. We stopped at a Wendy’s and asked for directions. The woman told us that this is NORMAL NPI traffic after work. Ye gods. She recommended a route that we ended up taking, but honestly, I think it was a wash. There is very little zoning here and so there are abandoned wrecks of buildings right next to, say, the Cuban Consulate (which is upstairs from a Chinese takeaway). There is razor wire everywhere, and I mean everywhere, along with feral or stray dogs, drunken men in dirty clothes and litter.
We also stopped and got some take away (Grandma insisted on KFC. We flew to the Bahamas to eat….. KFC.), but we got home at last, only to find that Grandpa and Sis had gone to the airport to pick up Cousin Anne (CA) and she hadn’t arrived. They waited for over an hour and for the last AA flight, but no go. They came back, puzzled and worried about what had happened to CA.
Meanwhile, we (Greg, myself, #’s 1 and 2 sons, Grandma) had decided to take a short moonlight walk on the beach just down the road. It was glorious. The wind was constant and quite brisk, but not cold. The moon had been full last night and turned the sand to white silk. We listened to the wind whip through the palms and the waves roll endlessly onto the shore. I am going back there tomorrow morning to take a longer walk in the sunshine and look for sea glass and conch shells. #2 son and I walk a bit faster than the others, so we were around the curve near the house when a taxi passed us. It slowed down, and half stopped. Since we had been asked all day if we wanted “help” with X and Y, I said aloud, “no, we don’t want a taxi, thanks”, in case the driver’s window was open. The taxi moved on and disappeared around another curve. A moment later, we rounded the same curve, to find a car in the driveway. I counted the cars already parked (3), and on impulse knocked on the window of the car and opened the door. There was CA! She had had a helluva time getting to the house because it’s not marked on the map (no clue why). Also, her cell wasn’t working, so she couldn’t call. #2 son ran into the house to get the family. Grandpa and various others came out of the house. The taxi driver saw Grandpa and said to me, “I saw that man at the airport, with a younger, shorter woman (Sis).” Grandpa, Sis and CA must have just missed one another. I find this amusing, but Sis was ticked off. She contends that CA should have used a pay phone to call and tell us she was taking a cab. Sis says Grandpa told her that he had told CA he was picking her up. CA says that Grandpa never said that. This is how my family spends a great deal of its time. <sigh>

I find I am tired and a bit overwhelmed by so much family up close and personal. I am not sure SO likes me. I thought he was nice last night at dinner and that he liked me fine, but today I’ve seen his mouth tighten a few times when #2 son is essentially 12 (not anything bad, just getting tired of waiting for adults to actually get organized to go do stuff), and he speaks kind of obliquely. Not sure what I mean by that, but I’ll figure it out later. Off to spend some time with Cousin Anne, if I can get a word in edgewise with Sis. She just has so much damned energy and must contribute and be integral always. It’s exhausting, at least for me. But she is being pleasant and getting along with the boys fine.

Day Three: And the foundation begins to crumble…
11/23/10
Trouble has arrived in the Eastern Delight. Sis seems to be a seething mass of unexpressed expectations and the need to control. Somehow in all her life she has never learned how to tell people things. She landed on the boys, speaking in terms that brook no reply that “nothing is to go down the disposal”. All well and good, but the boys hadn’t put anything down the disposal, since our disposal at home doesn’t take chicken bones (which is what was found in the disposal). I mentioned that I had stopped Grandma from putting chicken bones down it earlier in the day, just as a passing comment. 20 minutes later, Sis is back to me: "Mom says she didn’t put anything down the disposal." First, who cares, and second, the accusatory tone rankles. If we were having wonderful conversations about topics of the day or we could share feelings on life experiences we’ve had, I’d shrug this off. This IS our conversation. This is not how convos are conducted between me and my parents or CA, just Sis--who tends to suck others into her vortex of blame game and correction.

I attempted (another time) to comment upon the local traffic, which is not only remark-worthy, but something of an obstacle for our plans. I was told that traffic in all major cities in the world is just like here during rush hour. Since I drive in rush hour in a global city, I think I am allowed my opinion on this, and mine differs from hers. Sis must be seen as the person in the know on all topics that matter to her.
The killer last night for me when CA, Sis and I were chatting and hoarding came up. While neither of our parents are hoarders, our father has a lifetime of histology and pathology slides and references, some of which were mixed up severely in their recent move. I mentioned that I found that task formidable and Sis immediately piped up that as executor of our father’s will, the estate would hire “some medical Librarian or other.” I must have looked a bit oh yeah? Because Sis continued, “Not you, I mean someone who knows what they’re doing.” I know that is not how she meant it (at least not totally), but almost every interaction with her is this. More later.
Later:
Greg, the boys and I went to Fort Charlotte (which contains Ft Stanley and Ft Darcy). Up a very steep incline (at least a 60 degree incline, if not more), we entered a very well preserved fort that dates from 17mumble. Lord Dunmore, who had also been Governor of Virginia, ended up on New Providence Island. Privateers informed the British (and the Loyalists who came here) that the French were going to invade, so in less than two years the 700 soldiers dug out (from solid limestone) a large fort, sleeping quarters, munitions area and storage (methinks they had some slave help, but that was not mentioned).
We had a female guide who was funny, smart and very knowledgeable. I love that she and the other guides spend their time playing gin rummy (or hearts?) while they wait for tourists to show up. It was a beautiful day, but hot. Sunny, no clouds, nice breeze. More humid than I would have thought, and not much of a salt tang in the air. The view from the Fort, which we had been told was "spectacular" by 2 guide books, was not. Sure, the ocean is an untold number of shades of blue, but the Fort overlooks a working harbor--and not a picturesque one, either. Watching containers unloaded and loaded by crane is not my idea of idyllic beauty. The breeze was nice.

From there we went to the Nassau Pirate Museum, which turned out to be half hokum and half informative. The mannequins and human sized dioramas were ok, but the wall plaques and displays were genuinely interesting. There was a man dressed in pirate gear who did a fairly good job (if a bit overdone) of playing the pirate and doing a patter for the kids. We came home after that, mostly because I got blisters from sweating in my walking shoes. I have been trying to Be Nice in this journal and not bitch about the heat every other sentence. It was hot. HOT.
At home, we found only Grandpa, asleep on the couch. A much needed breather from all the other family. Bro came back shortly after, with a purchased showerhead, which he proceeded to install in the bath he shared with my boys. The one there did not work. We all find ways to have fun on vacation.

Later:
Back from a very long afternoon walk on the beach with Greg, sons #1 and 2, and Cousin Anne. It was the most relaxing time yet. We wandered over the beach just east of the house (down the road about 500 yards it opens up to a public beach, very rocky, but nice and quiet). We meandered down the rocks, watching very tiny zebra fish in the tide pools, small snails snaking their spiral shells in the sand. We found lots of trash: car tires, plastic water bottles, and unspecified and unidentifiable stuff. Very little beach glass, which I love to collect, but quite a bit of "new glass"--that is, freshly thrown in the sea and still razor sharp. #2 son, hopping about the basalt rocks, cried out that he had found a message in a bottle! Thinking he was joking, we gathered around him where he proudly displayed a clear glass bottle that did indeed contain a coiled piece of paper. We found some lovely small spiral shells, as well as a few pieces of beach glass and an odd rock, small enough to bring home. It is riddled with holes dripped all the way through by dripping water, the softened by the constant tumbling of the ocean; it will look interesting with my potted plants on the back deck next summer.
A man-made rocky barrier, parallel to the shore, provided us with a nominal destination. This time it was #1 son who found a treasure: a small octopus. All of us hunched down, watching the oddly graceful movements of the animal until it slid under a rock. Feeling that anything else would be anticlimactic, we turned toward home, content with the outing and planning our snorkeling for Friday.
Evening:
Cousin Marcia and her SO are here now. She and Sis are clashing because Marcia wants to watch Dancing With the Stars. I am glad I missed that conflagration. I helped Grandma and Anne start dinner, and then collapsed on the couch to watch The Great Migration on NatGeo with the boys and Greg. Sis came down from the shower, walked into the room and said, “Why are you all watching TV?” I answered “Because we are exhausted.” “Oh, well, I never watch TV. Waste of time.” The way I replied, “Oh” told her to back off and she did. I think I’ll watch Dancing with the Stars for the first time ever tonight. Why does it matter what others do for uncomplicated pleasure? I confess I am at a loss to understand any of it. When I am not exasperated, I feel bad for her—to drive people away so consistently must be painful. Sis' SO is not speaking to me. I had asked him about his work and tried to make conversation with him that first night, with a modicum of success, but he spends his time reading and talking to Greg about stocks (which is fine). When I come into a room, he clams up. He has never asked me about what I do or anything about me at all. Lord knows what Sis has told him about me. Nothing I can do about it, so I'm not going to worry about it.

*I see I have not included the Dove Bars Incident. I'm too tired today to do so, but it's a doozy.

The Dove Bars Incident:

Grandma bought 2 boxes of Dove Bars at the store. She told me there that all were welcome to the DBs. I told the boys. #1 son had 2 over the course of the day, as did #2 son, and I had one. Sis took the boys to task fairly severely because of their "greed". Well, I didn't know that DBs only come 4 to a box (or is it 6? No idea). They were "eating them like candy". Nope, just like teenage boys. I asked Greg to go to the store and buy 3 boxes of the things and he left to do so. I come in the house to hear Sis say my name to CA and Grandma and immediately clam up when she spots me. I've had enough of this by now, so I call her on it. She denies that she was talking about me. I say that seems odd since she was mentioning my name. She says it was no big deal, at all, and not to worry about it. I say that if it's no big deal, why not just tell me? She refuses. I leave the room, after telling her that none of this makes sense. About 5 minutes later, she comes to me, drags me into a spare bedroom and says she doesn't want bad blood between us. [That alone amuses me, since she is the one who when I was pregnant with Daughter told me that it was "wrong" that I should be having the first grandchild. I almost offered to abort to spare her this shame, but....] Anyway, she says that she was saying GOOD things about me and that I'm a GOOD parent and that I was handling the Dove Bar Incident (her words) well, and just as I should. I drily thanked her and let it go.

A Brief Respite from Fractious Factions:
11/24/10
Today was ok. We (a group of 8 of us) went over to Paradise Island to see the sights. The “boys” (Greg, Bro, #1 son) went scuba diving. Marcia and Alan went off to snorkel by themselves. PI and Atlantis Resort is a whole lot of nothing. Groomed lawns, lots of workers, and lots of …..nothing, really. American brands, chain restaurants and boutiques selling expensive, un-necessary items. We bypassed the casino, having some fondness for our money. We ate at Johnny Rocket’s, which was good, but like Steak N’ Shake on steroids. And again, we are here so we can eat at an American restaurant chain? And yet, so called "local" cuisine has been sampled by some in our party and found to be deep fried or just bad. What's a mother to do?

From there we drove to the Nassau Botanical Gardens, a very special trip that we will never forget. Half of the group had peeled off to do some grocery shopping, so it was Uncle Jim, Grandpa, Anne, #2 son and I. Our guide, Jimaine, took us around a very small park. We were the sole visitors. There were labels on the trees: paper labels covered in plastic. I cannot now recall all the trees we saw, but I’ll never forget our guide. Being led by him was a cross between the Bataan Death March and Barney the Dinosaur on a bad day. “Come on, okay, come on, come on, let’s go, let’s go, okay, let’s go! Stay together, all right!” His knowledge of the plants and trees was non-existent and incorrect to boot! The tour at 25 minutes was 25 minutes too long. At one point I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from laughing, but this made me cry and shake. It is hard to adequately describe just what it was about this guide that made us all want to howl with laughter: perhaps it was his lack of English or the rapid patter of his delivery or the constant hectoring to move along. “See this tree? This is the gluey tree. GLUEY TREE, yeah? All right, keep up, you see this tree? This is the gluey tree. You rub the bark, rub the bark, you rub bark, see and like it’s glue, it’s glue. GLUE. On your hands. It comes off on your hands. Glue like glue, all right? Ok, keep up, let’s go, ok?” He points to the area around us. “This tree, this tree, over here this tree, trees all around, that's a playground, another tree. This tree is the Staffron tree. The STAFFRON tree. You cook with staffron. The cinnamon tree. You see the cinnamon tree. You cook with cinnamon, yes? Let’s go, ok? The cinnamon grows on the cinnamon tree, all right? Keep up, stay together, I’m here to keep you safe”.
We came to an archway, lovely to behold. The under-arch (the ceiling) was made from conch shells tightly packed together. It was stunning and unique. Jimaine told us that this arch and the ceiling were made by slaves (the garden is quite close to Ft Charlotte). This is when Grandpa piped up, deadpan, "There's a date engraved on the front of the arch: MCMLVXII. There were slaves here in 1967?" That was the highlight to our trip. That question didn't phase our guide one bit. He said "yes" (!) and moved us along...

Nothing could possibly compete with that, so the rest of the day was spent back at the villa, swimming in the pool and walking on the shore. Dinner was great: lime chicken, yams, and veggies. #2 son’s message in a bottle turned out to be a blank piece of paper (!). I couldn’t tell if the ink had just faded beyond legibility, but nothing. Talk about anti-climatic!

Tribute Day for Grandpa, and Miscellany

11/25/2010
Today Greg and I and the kids went into town so that Daughter could see the sites. We walked around downtown Nassau, stopping by the Public Library, which is housed in the old jail (gaol) and has been since 1873. It was fascinating—a working Library, crammed into a small hexagonal building. One cell is the Kid’s Corner. Their adult fiction “cells” held mysteries and novels that I have read and enjoyed-the British influence is quite strong here. I did not see any new fiction, but it might be there. There was some kind of internet connection, and a rapidly fading collection of stacked newspapers, dating back to 2001. The upstairs was not open to the public. I did notice another (more modern) public library in another part of Nassau.
We also stopped by Paradise Island again so that Greg and Daughter could see it, and again, it was nothing but manicured grass, boutiques that sell un-necessary goods and expensive food.
We came back here and I helped Sis put together pics of our Dad as a child, a professional, and with us and his grandkids. I either misunderstood or wasn’t told that I was to bring pics, so had nothing to contribute. The evening went very well: our father was given a very nice tribute indeed. Dinner was good: red snapper. The tributes to our father went well. Marcia didn’t have one (which I find odd—that was the purpose of the whole trip). Anne did a nice job, but concentrated on their shared childhood (which was proper, but left us at a loss). Bro’s was mostly funny, but Sis and I dug a bit deeper. This is childish and smug, but I’m a better writer. Nonetheless, hers was an admirable paean.


I May Never Eat Ice Cream Again:
11/26/10
We had a great deal fun today, just us 5. We went snorkeling at Stuart Cove. #2 son was very concerned about this, lacking confidence in his swim stroke. We practiced a bit in the pool, but to no avail. However, he went with us, found out that there were life vests mandatory, he relaxed a bit. We went to Hollywood Bowl first. The fish were amazing: yellow snapper, lionfish, something a deep electric blue and tiny. Brain coral and reef life were clearly visible, but about 50 feet down. #2 son paddled around, thrashing a bit and swallowing seawater. But I am so proud of him! He stuck with it. And at the second spot, Nari-Nari, he was more comfortable and went off on his own a bit. At the third spot, Ray of Heaven, he did not go in. This was the shark place and we had strict instructions to not make hand motions or kick, but to hold onto the towline and stay together. Caribbean Reef sharks, the largest (a female) was about 10.5 feet long. They swam directly beneath us, slowly circling, prowling along. It was fascinating, eerie and frightening. The Ray of Heaven is right on the continental shelf-one side of the wreck (which we could not see due to deep blue murkiness), the water depth is 50 ft; on the other it is 6500 ft! After we were all back on board, the boat guys fed the yellow snapper to draw the sharks and we watched them feed. No feeding frenzy, but savage enough. Incredible!

Thoughts and observations: Sis cannot share. She cannot share limelight or even attention. I don’t know what drives this insecurity (although she has never undergone therapy that I know of), but it is marked and chronic. Her stories of Mom and Dad feature only her, period. We all have stories that feature ourselves (and tend to prefer those), but most of us also have stories that involve or feature others—and we can enjoy stories about others, even at the expense of us. Not so with Sis. Of course in a tribute of this kind, the main stories would be of an individual nature, but this has been all week. More later.

Another ice cream story: Friday night. Grandpa is asked (by me, in front of Sis) if he wants any ice cream. He says he wants an “overflowing bowl of vanilla”. I go into the kitchen and get the vanilla ice cream and a bowl. I am filling the bowl when Sis arrives in the kitchen. She tells me brusquely that the ice cream is hers and not for general consumption, and that she had labeled it as such. I had not noticed the post it note on the lid, but sure enough, there it was. Sis goes on to say that it’s not that she “minds” others eating HER ice cream, but that she wanted to be asked first. I still haven’t said anything, but I keep filling the bowl. Then she says that it’s fine that I am using it, but that “other people” were not me, and those “other people” had gone out for dinner (Marcia and Alan), but "they" hadn't asked and that was wrong. I highly doubt Marcia ate any ice cream: the woman looks like Skeletor. I know Sis was referring to my boys. I put the spoon down and said, “This ice cream is for Grandpa. He wanted some ice cream.”, and left the room….


Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jig
11/27/10
Am sitting in the Miami International Airport (with the horrid acronym MIA). Sis was on the flight out with us. She suffers from claustrophobia and took me up on my offer of a Xanax like a drowning man would a life jacket. Makes me wonder why she hasn’t asked her MD for something like it before. We did better in the airport, Sis and me. She was more relaxed and I was more patient. We agreed that Dad was a bit overcome by his tribute dinner and the speeches—he did not deliver the type of speech he is known for (he’s a bit of a raconteur). I also took a minute last night to have some one on one time with Mom (and Dad); Daughter joined us for a bit. It was nice and low key. It was wonderful to spend time with Cousin Anne, Uncle Jim, my parents and yes, Sis and Bro. I am still mad at Bro for his irresponsible attitude toward alcohol and my kids. I caught him telling #1 son that he (Bro) would drink him under the table. No way am I going to be “cool” about that.
Overall, I think it was a good trip. Probably not worth the money spent, but really—how can one measure such things? I am glad that I got to say things, good things, to my father. I need to write him a thank you note as well, which will be good, too. Marcia is very fragile, Sis is wound too tight, Bro is irresponsible, but they are my family and I love them. Flight is slightly delayed. I have learned a great deal in this week: my sister is needier than I thought, I am stronger than I thought; I owe my parents and family more than I was aware of, and I have no need or desire to ever come back to the Caribbean ever again. Not bad for one vacation.