F-A-M-I-L-Y
Tuesday, August 7, 2012 at 11:19PM Mrs. G. Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family...in another city
~George Burns
1) Mrs. G's mom recently told her that Mrs. G's late, great-uncle, Bubby, used to have a pet capuchin monkey named Judy. Mrs. G. can't remember if she's written about her Uncle Bubby before, but if she hasn't, you really should hold it against her. Bubby was Mrs. G's grandmother's only brother. Their mother abandoned them at a Memphis bus stop when they were quite young, so she could head off to California to marry a man named Roy and start a new family with him and his money. A good aunt (you know the kind) picked the two children up from the bus stop and raised them. As you can imagine Mrs. G's grandmother and her brother were tight, occasionally, and understandably, neurotically so.
Bubby is really worthy of many posts of his own but for tonight, Mrs. G's going to just cover a few basics pertinent to the story at hand. When he was younger, Bubby was handsome and charming and the life of the party, but as he moved into his fifties, his mental health deteriorated. He was paranoid (he spray-painted the inside and outside of his house with black, green and gray squiggles, a budget, slapdash attempt to camouflage himself from what or whom no one was really sure), obsessive (he liked African violets so much he had at least 200 of them) and, on occasion, delusional (he often spoke with the spiders he allowed to spin webs in his house, which wouldn't be that remarkable if he didn't insist they spoke back or encourage you to join the conversation). Bubby was weird, but Mrs. G. is not romanticizing or infantilizing him when she tells you he was a nice guy. You couldn't leave his house without him giving you some kind of gift, like 22 African violets or a litter of kittens. He was never officially diagnosed with anything beyond being an odd bird. He self-medicated with Kool cigarettes.
Mrs. G's affection for Bubby is stifling the real subject of this story: Judy, the capuchin monkey. Mrs. G's mom can't remember where Bubby got Judy, but she does remember that Bubby had a way of just getting things from the gettin' place, a store not open to the general public. He had sources and he wasn't likely to share them.
So Bubby treated Judy like a child, a delinquent child. He taught her to rifle visitors' pockets and outright encouraged lawless capuchin monkey behavior. Judy's favorite con was to lift the handkerchief out of a man's back pocket and then run like hell and hide it. It was her best trick and, ultimately, her worst trick.
This is not Judy but it is a capuchin monkey. Mrs. G's mom says Judy was hardcore, a monkey grifter.
One evening, Mrs. G's grandfather came over to visit Bubby and knowing Judy's handkerchief predilection, had his teasingly hanging just a smidge outside his back pocket. Excited, riled up because the white cotton was straight up in her face, Judy snatched Mrs. G's grandfather's handkerchief and bolted out of the living room window. Unfortunately, there was a window box fan in the living room window, whirring away. Mrs. G's mother reports Judy's death was quick but likely painful.
It was plainly a traumatic family event since no one ever mentioned Judy, the capuchin monkey, to Mrs. G. until this year, which is a real shame, because there is a time in one's life when having a family monkey story in your arsenal of cool could come in quite handy. At age 45, that time has passed.
Hey, Rocket Scientists, this right here is more complicated than, say, rocket science.
2) Mrs. G. spent the weekend mentally writing a script to the Lifetime movie: All I Did Was Say We Should Do More Things Together.
Currently in the relentless throws of peri-menopause, Mrs. G. was suffering from some marked PMS -- her breasts were sore, her one remaining ovary throbbed and she was on her 8th period of the month. In this vulnerable, compromised state, she walked into the family room and told Mr. G. that she thought they should do more things together.
"You mean like go to dinner and a play like we did last night?" he asked.
Mrs. G. nodded, did six kegels, and left the room to go throw herself on the bed and let the fact that he was right sink in. It took two hours and a half a bag of raspberry Milanos.
But exactly like Drew Peterson, a former Bolingbrook, Illinois, police sergeant who is suspected of killing at least two of his wives, Mr. G. couldn't leave well enough alone.
All weekend he would do things like:
~Come into the yard when Mrs. G. was trying to get puppy Gus to do his business, stand there and casually say, "I like when we spend more time together."
~Come into the living room and ask Mrs. G. if she would like to go to Home Depot with him to get a new toilet seat so they could, "spend more time together."
~Come into the bedroom three times while Mrs. G. was watching a movie, lie beside her for 90 seconds and then leave, saying, "I just wanted to spend more time together" as he left the room.
Mrs. G. took it all in stride, but she did manage to pick up a large book of Khalil Gibran poetry at Half-Price Books so she can recite parts of it to Mr. G. before bed to, you know, enrich the time they spend together.
Where are you, my beloved? Are you in that little
Paradise, watering the flowers who look upon you
As infants look upon the breast of their mothers?Do you recollect our sitting in the shade of the
Branches, sheltering ourselves from Humanity, as the ribs
Protect the divine secret of the heart from injury?
She's sure he's going to love it. Love it.
3) When Mrs. G. was in Boston during her road trip, she learned her father had died a second time, but this time for real. Apparently, he had been suffering for some time with a strain of shingles that affects the brain and eyes, which perhaps might explain his resurrection and the odd email Mrs. G. witnessed only weeks ago. He will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery in the fall. Mrs. G. will not be in attendance. Initially, she was angry her children (whom her father never bothered to meet) were included in his obituary, annoyed that he came off sounding like such a family man, but then after days of reflection, she realized many people screw up lives for several go rounds before they get it even close to right. Maybe he got it right for some people. Maybe he didn't. She finally decided to let everyone rest in peace, including herself.
4) Speaking of dysfunctional families, Mrs. G. is spending no end of time wondering what is going to happen to Walt and Skyler in this season of Breaking Bad. He's officially flying on the surface of the sun and she's Lady Macbeth with a shiv. Predictions?
Maybe they just need to spend more time together.
Family, Mental, Relationships. Pop Culture
Reader Comments (30)
Obit or not, I wouldn't count your dad out just yet. The Un-Dads always come back when you least expect it.
The monkey story is going to stick with me today. I'm not sure whether to laugh or be horrified. I'm sure I'll be sitting at my desk later, giggling!
and just now you hear about the monkey! What a story.
That man of yours is a sly one he is- sly...and you should read him the whole book. Page by page. Word by word.
Imagine my surprise when I found my mother's copy of this book last year! Mom! Really!
And Breaking Bad- good grief I am on pins and needles.
A monkey! It was like the time we found out Mark's dad made booze in his locker when he was in the Navy and his locker exploded, there was a good story there. Gone now...
As I scrolled down reading the monkey story and the female parts diagram came into view, I wondered for a split second if the monkey was going to pull some other amazing feat...I don't know what...remove something? Hide somthing? I was relieved to see the diagram was unrelated!
Mr G has almost as wicked a sense of humor as you do. You are perfect for each other.
Family stories are fabulous - you can't make this shit up!
Poor Judy! I'm looking forward to reading more about Uncle Bubby, isn't it fun to have such a character in the family?
Obituaries can be quite interesting. Just the other day, my brother and I were commenting on the lavish tale of our recently deceased Ph.D. uncle's life, where he is remembered among other things as being a "champion of the downtrodden" -- the same man who viewed our working-class, "uneducated" family of non-professionals with thinly veiled contempt. But regardless of how he treated our branch of the family, his immediate family loved him very much and I suppose that counts for something.
Kelly K, you made me snort! Too funny, and yes a relief!
Ah, a family monkey ... called Judy no less. Tragic and fabulous all in one. How could you not love Bubby?
Mr G, that's evil and you are so going to need Khalil or something of that ilk to get him back.
Glad you're at peace with your Dad, all other options just suck.
Obits are always very interesting. But do your descendants a HUGE favor. Put in writing what really should have been written, put it with the printed obit, and put both in a place to be discovered by the family historian decades from now. ;-)
I think if Walt and Skyler spend too much time together, things will not go well for Walt!
Heather, my yoga instructor told me something that might be worth a try.
Wait, first, I loved this post and you are the funniest writer ever.
So, my yoga instructor told me when she was going through peri-menopause she had such bad menstrual cramps they would literally wake her up at night. She gave up dairy and the symptoms stopped virtually instantaneously. From crippling cramps to nothing. It might be worth a try for just a month or so. I'm NOT trying to tell you what to do.
But I would like it if we could spend more time together. :)
love,
Barb
Interesting read on the obit - I'm glad you have resolved your feelings and I love your perspective on it.
Peri-menopause is not for sissies.
Hang in there.
xo
Great post! Doesn't every family have an Uncle Bubby in their closet somewhere?
My youngest son, who is a very quiet, introverted person once said "every family is disfunctional in some way or other. Look at us.". I didn't ask him to elaborate (I was afraid of what he would say). I just nodded my head and quickly changed the subject. That's dysfunctional right there.
Sorry about your Dad's death, again. Glad you came to a peaceful place about it.
Thanks for the smile this morning, Mrs. G.
Also, raspberry leaves (you can get them in capsules) can help uterine cramping and spasms. Worth a try...you're in the worst part right now, but it's great on the other side!
Okay, completely confused by the obituary. Spoiling his beloved grandchildren? Who wrote that, anyway?
I'm quite certain that Uncle Bubby and my dad were drinking buddies. At least he sounds like the kind of character my dad attracted AND BROUGHT HOME! Egads.
Judy...cute capuchin. Every family needs a monkey. Or at least to partake in some monkeyshines.
Sorry you and your dad never had a chance to reunite and resolve things. Based on the information you've given us I'd say you're better off. I'm sure it was painful, though. Kudos to you for taking the high road.
Am quite relieved to be on the other side of menopause. Even the dread hot flashes have slowed to an occasional flicker. Staying away from booze helps me with that. I'm not one for wine...too many after effects including splitting headaches...but I do enjoy the occasional bourbon or a beer. Lately having one or the other has not produced the expected visit to the 10th circle of hell. A welcome relief. Just keep chanting: this too shall pass...this too shall pass....
That Mr. G...he's a card I tell ya'.
I guess he meant the "other" grandchildren. His loss.
You have a good soul to resolve the obit the way you have.
And the monkey tale? Wonderful (except for the very end-poor thing) and I hope you
hear more stories to share with us!
BTW, I have added antibiotic ointment and bandaids (Hello Kitty) to the emergency supplies
in the guest bath. In your honor.
Mrs G, you should just pop in and sit with Mr G while he is doing something he is busy at and read him poetry so you can spend more time together.
While going through menopause both peri & post I decided that PMS and pregnancy hormones were just a practice round for the main event. It will end, but it will take it's own sweet damn time about it. The first time I thought it had stopped , I threw away all products after 6 months free. BAD PLAN. I will probably go to my grave with random feminine products in my belongings just in case...(shakes voodoo rattle)
As for family stuff, you are handling it well. Let it go and don't give it the room inside your head. You cannot change it. Be well.
Poor Judy - but why can't I stop giggling?
and raspberry Milanos - oh my, must find some of those
How many of us have an Uncle Bubby with a monkey named Judy ? Maybe his spraypainting was an attempt to create a "jungle ambience?! Lordy, you couldn't make this up! We all have crazy somewhere in our closets (or sitting at the dinner table!)
As for the men-o-pausal mambo? HOLY SHIT! And I don't say that out loud very often but this is some rip roaring rollercoaster ride I want off of. I went 8 mths the first time and then 9 mths w/o, thought I was done and then had a full 8 day "visit"that decided to start the day of my surgery a few weeks ago. Back pain, cramps the whole hormonal dance of emotions while NOT having anything also, just incase you thought the "off" time was trouble free. Hot flashes, night sweats and insomnia too. I am getting the everything and anything , I am the poster child for "don't be this"! And what gets me through? I know it WILL be over... eventually!
Mr. G seems to have the same sense of humor as The Man. Sometimes I find it endearingly smart ass, but there are other times I want to find a blunt instrument! I think a little bedroom redecorating w/Kitty Gigantica and some Sark posters might set the appropriate "mood" for more quality time together! I received a similar treatment after mentioning we needed to have more fun. BUZZARDS these men of ours are, but they ARE funny too!
As for your parental situation...it is the best thing you can do to release all those bad feelings he dumped on you. Why should YOU carry that crap around the rest of your life? You deserve better, it's that simple and you have it w/ the life YOU have created w/ Mr.G. Took me a long time to figure out people aren't always who they are SUPPOSED to be just because they were related to us and I didn't hust have to stand around and tolerate it. The issues were all his own; it just made it easier for him to make it about you and whoever. His problems were his long before you were in the picture. I can only hope he has found some relief from whatever tortured him (and all of you) while he was here. Be at peace now, he is not able to be anything but a lesson learned the hard way now. Trust me, my Dad was no picnic.
Milanos (mint for me, please) are the answer to everything. Love the monkey story. I was going to say that it made my Monday but then realized that, hello, it's Tuesday. That should tell you how my week is going. Thanks for the good laugh regardless of the day.
Mr. G sounds like the kind of man who would appreciate having Gibran read to him while he is, say, working under the car or just as he sits down to eat his favorite meal.
As for your "father" (quotes intentional), I'm sure this is a disquieting time for you. My advice to Mr. G? Spend more time together.
Does menopause make you unable to understand what your husband is telling you or vice versa?
For some reason for the last two weeks, if my husband asks or tells me anything, I don't comprehend his meaning, take it wrong or can't literally hear him and he begins to rant, at which time I picture how attractive he would be with knives sticking in his groin area.
With the heat, my hot flashes are not welcome at all this summer.....
1) When my (much older) cousin returned from Vietnam, he bought a spider monkey. I may write about this on my blog, so you'll have to follow the link if you want to know more.
2)Sorry about your dad. I know the whole thing is complicated and confusing.
3)I have hot flashes constantly. If only the intense heat actually burned fat, I'd be as thin as I want to be
4) Recently bought the first season of Breaking Bad. Lalalalala! Not listening to anyone's conversation about this as I want to be surprised.
My youngest son, who is a very quiet, introverted person once said "every family is disfunctional in some way or other. Look at us." I didn't ask him to elaborate (I was afraid of what he would say). I just nodded my head and quickly changed the subject. That's dysfunctional right there.
OK, this cracked me up. I wouldn't have asked either.
No wonder no one ever mentioned Judy the Capuchin! They were all probably so traumatized from her monkey-meets-window-fan ending. My God! It must have looked like a crime scene in there.
Mr. G sounds pretty awesome, I have to say. He also sounds very much in need of some Khalil Gibran. Or Tolstoy at random hours in the middle of the night. You're such a giver, Mrs. G!
Isn't it true that whenever one reads the word Kegel one starts doing Kegels? Like right now? Or is that just me?
Uncle Bubby, Judy the monkey (gah! what a gruesome demise!), the African violets and Khalil Gibran! Your posts are so rich! I am sitting here at my desk smiling like a loon.
Perhaps Mr. G should be BRINGING you the milanos. I'm fond of the orange ones.
and yes, it's the right time to release dad.
You made the right choice in writing this post. We laugh, we cry, and we nod in agreement and understanding.
Now we are waiting for you to publish the book!
Humor gets us through a lot of things. I'm glad that you and Mr. G. still have a grip on that!
Just last week, my brother announced, "Nothing says FAMILY like vomit stories."
Thanks for always making me laugh!
Bubby had a way of just getting things from the gettin' place, a store not open to the general public.
Yes, yes. I know folks who have access to the gettin' place. It is mysterious. I just loved this line.
Maybe you and Mr. G. could go looking for the gettin' place together. He can drive while you read The Prophet out loud.
I am going to say the same thing to my husband and see how he responds. I'm pretty sure he would do the exact same thing as Mr. G. and then wonder why on Earth I was laughing so hysterically, because he'd think it was funny, but not THAT funny.
How lovely of you to be so forgiving. I'd be tempted to write an obituary rebuttal.
Isn't it odd to be presented with a different view of someone in your family. I read my all my grandparents obits and it was like reading about strangers. Nothing there reflected the people I had known, not because of disfunction, but mainly distance.
After my maternal grandmothers death in the UK my grandfather retired in the 70's, and moved to the US.
I think he had a really good line there...you know, the retired english gentleman. A painter no less...aristocratic and artistic.
Always neat and beautifully dressed, thin moustache...a little David Niven.
I have a US newspaper clipping with an article about him, quoting him, which is full of untruths and misrepresentations. He reinvented himself in a harmless self delusional kind of way, and he remarried a woman of property in his seventies.
His gravestone identifies him as a RAF pilot during WW2...which would be a surprise to the Airforce.
He was a tailor in an overcoat factory all his life. He did serve in WW2, but as a bat man (officers orderly)
which he was probably very good at, with his tailoring skills.
Maybe when he moved to the US he just became the person he'd always wanted to be.
oh Trudy----I go through the same thing with the hubby. I just don't pay attention and he surely does notice. and whatever happened to just menopause??? now it's either peri or post, but where's the meno??
Oh, DO go to the funeral. Pretend it's someone else but GO! The ceremony is so incredible. My father was interred there and it was so fablulous. You just don't get the chance to see it but once in a lifetime. The caisson, the flag ceremony, 21 gun salute, taps ... truly something to see.
btw, will be in the area next weekend...granddaughter getting married on Mercer Island.
maybe we can get together? Not sure what my time frame will be.
hugs