GOPT (no typo in this title, bitches) (420 hits)
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Rating: 1.5 on 8 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Nuggs (View user info) at 2004-07-29 11:21:24 EDT
1) if only I could listen to my aunts advice...
2) i'm totally going to plan an UberDetroit (or even an UberChiTown) for Mid September
3) i'm pissed that I didn't plan to go to Boston
4) damn me
5) GOPT post... (re. http://www.ubersite.com/m/39888)
My dad grew up in Detroit. His family was poor, mainly due to the fact that they were Catholic, which meant there were a lot of kids (10), and only one income (my Grandpa worked for Ford). They lived in a small two bedroom house just outside of the city, I'd say it's about 800 square feet. It didn't have an indoor bathroom until my dad was about 7... they were the last family in the neighborhood to have a toilet installed.
My aunt Tiny used to tell me stories about how much she hated waking up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. She'd lay in the bedroom that she shared with her 4 sisters, and try to distract herself from having to pee. Eventually Tiny would get up, put her robe on, slide into some slippers, and make a mad dash for the outhouse. Imagine how fun that would be on a cold Michigan night, eh?
Eventually everyone except Tiny moved out, got married or got killed- my uncle Tommy was stabbed one night while out on the town with his friends, the man who did it is now out of prison and presumably content with his life, unfortunatly my family will forever been ensnared by the horror of Tommy's death. I guess we all have one tragedy in our families, don't we...?
***
Every weekend the whole family would go back to the house in Detroit to visit. By the time I came around (being the youngest child of the youngest child) the family was huge. I had 15 aunts and uncles, 40 some cousins, two parents, one sister, and two grandparents, and a gaggle of people that were somehow related, but no-one knew how. The women would cram themselves into the cramped kitchen, and prepare dinner. The men would gather in the garage to drink Coors and talk about cars. Us kids all kept busy "staying out of trouble".
Even at this point, Tiny lived there. She never married, never moved out, worked retail her whole life. I never saw her with a man, or a friend, even. She went to church every Sunday with my grandparents, went to work at Rite-Aid every day they had her on the schedule, and read. That's all she did. She didn't have a lot of money, nor did my grandparents... yet every christmas she bought all of us presents. Lots of them.
Granted, they were things like itchy sweaters with Rudolph embroidered on them, Jean Nate perfume, and leg warmers... but still... the memories of all of us squeezed into the living room, shoulder to shoulder, kids sitting on laps, dads standing behind moms... those memories are some of the fondest I have. All due to this one woman who went out of her way to find dirt-cheap merchandise in the clearence bins and bargin huts. She was generous beyond her means.
I loved spending the night at my grandparents house. All day I would lay around the back yard, reading my aunt Tiny's books... then I'd watch my grandpa sit in the kitchen, head humbly bowed, hands working his rosary. As soon as he was done he'd grumble something about ice cream, and I'd hop up to scoop us both a bowl. He wasn't the type of grandpa that took us fishing and had us sit on his knee to tell us stories about his youth... he was too old and too German for that. He was the type to sit around drinking and smoking, grunting at the TV. For some reason that's why I loved eating ice cream with him... it made me feel special.
Then I'd find my grandma and ask her to tell me about when she used to work in the bar... or about how they came down to Detroit before roads were built, "We had to stay along the shore..." her story would always start.
Finally, I'd go to my aunts room, and crawl into bed with her and her Evil Chihuahua. We'd both prop our books open and read. I'd constantly look over at her to see how she was sitting, and then re-position myself to mirror her position and facial expression. She'd let me borrow any book I wanted, she'd let me read for hours without telling me, "It's bedtime!".
It didn't occur to me until later in life that this amazing woman was never married. How could a woman who was so generous and intelligent and funny never find a man?
She's almost 60 now, and I asked her a few months ago if she'd ever had a boyfriend. She guffawed, and waved her hand at me... she put a cigarette between her lips and lit it.
"Corinne... I'm too stubborn for any damn man." she said as she was exhaling, the smoke rolled out of her mouth and nose, and hung in the air between us.
"But, you never had a boyfriend?" I prodded.
"Sure I did, when I was younger... but nothing serious." She took another puff.
"But, didn't you want a family and kids?" This woman is better with children than ANYONE I've ever met. She always talked to us like we were adults... she showed us respect, kept us in line, told us exactly how to tell a good joke, and taught us what it was to be a Good Person. She would have been a wonderful mother.
"Corinne, I had all of you guys... I had more kids than anyone... more than 40 of you. You are my children. You are all the family I could ever need. I didn't need the trouble of a husband when I could have a family without one." She smashed her cigarette out in the glass ashtray, obviously uncomfortable at having to say something remotely sentimental. "It goes without saying, Corinne." She stood at the sink, hands busy with the dirty dishes. "Men aren't worth the trouble. Look at what you went through... your sister... your mother. Even my own brothers are more of a pain then their wives should have to put up with! If you can find a good man, fine. But it's not nearly as important as everyone thinks it is."
She's an amazing woman, and the wisdom in this is simple. One can have everything they need out of life without having a constant companion. There is no need to leave the security of a parent and in turn search constantly for the security of a lover.
It's an extraordinary person that finds strength in solitude.
****************
Oh by the way- My dog finished the laundry. (http://www.ubersite.com/m/39751)
User Reviews
Submitted by Subjugator (user info) at 2004-07-29 12:42:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
A nice piece of work.
Submitted by I_Have_a_Kristen_Fetish (user info) at 2004-07-29 12:01:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by corn_nugget (user info) at 2004-07-29 11:40:24 (#)
Ranking: 0
Fetish- I must say- being proven cooler than AJ doesn't mean much.
--
+2 Very valid point.
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2004-07-29 11:55:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I guess I don't care how many times you post, and I didn't read the story because I suck. But you still get the +2 for the pic and this:
Oh by the way- My dog finished the laundry.
Because I DID read that post.
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2004-07-29 11:41:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Fuck one post per day. If you're off the front page it's fair game.
Don't be a bitch, Eric.
Submitted by corn_nugget (user info) at 2004-07-29 11:40:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Fetish- I must say- being proven cooler than AJ doesn't mean much.
I'm still a rebel though.
(can't a girl enjoy SPT?!)
Submitted by I_Have_a_Kristen_Fetish (user info) at 2004-07-29 11:34:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Just because it has been proven that you're cooler than AJ, don't let it go to your head.
Submitted by corn_nugget (user info) at 2004-07-29 11:28:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Where in the motherfucking Uberhandbook does it say One Post Per day?
It doesn't!
Man people sure do love rules.
Furthermore, I just woke up, so this IS my first post today.
(if you're trying to define "day" by date- well, that's just silly, and you can't possibly expect me to miss my chance at GOPT simply because I was fucking with AJ last night)
And you forgot-
I AM A REBEL! OOHWHOOO!
Submitted by I_Have_a_Kristen_Fetish (user info) at 2004-07-29 11:24:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
One post per day, hun.