Marie

My middle name is Marie. You didn't know that, did you? I was named for my godmother, Marie B., nee L. She's crazy. She used to dress up, at my age, in Saran Wrap and trick-or-treat the neighbors. At family gatherings, she was the one with the fun games: passing a single sheet of toilet paper using only straws and breath, from person to person; elaborately wrapped gag gifts in a bastardization of a Yankee Swap using two decks of playing cards; Twister. I kid you not.

Do I take after her? No, I don't do stand-up routines at the Leisure Village talent show. I don't plague my answering machine greeting with recycled jokes. I don't steal from my family. Oooooh, dark secret. Yup. She let her son persuade her to "borrow" $60k from my uncle (her sister's husband) when she had POA and my uncle was in the nut house after Aunt Agnes died.

Do I take after her? No. I don't let my husband dominate me, not that it's hobbitt's intention at all. There are some indications that Uncle Richard had less-than-pure intentions regarding other women in the family, including, but not limited to, pushing my Aunt Grace (by then a long-time but young widow) onto a bed in my own family's house when Agnes married Dennis. I never like Richard. Ever.

Who's afraid to say this? Not me. This shit sucks. We here at druid labs are all about accountability. Family is a wonderful thing, or can be. I, for one, love my sisters. Deeply. My brother, not so much. I'd like to. Maybe it will happen. But love doesn't often bloom over car talk, and that's our deepest subject.

My middle name is Marie. I'm named for my father's sister Catherine, called Kay. I'm named after my mother's next-oldest sister Marie, the only sibling left. Cathy M. Cathy M. W. Nowadays I go by Cathy W. C.. Did I shut out Aunt Marie and all her fun-loving pranks? Nope. I'd like to think I'm far less corny than Aunt Marie but the fact is, she's pretty much a lot of fun. Even at 87. Can I forgive her for the past? Yup. Will I forget? Not on your life.