GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #1098: A WINDOW INTO THE PAST

 I woke up this morning to a Facebook message from one of my cousins on my mom's side. It contained two video clips labeled Thanksgiving 2003. She's the archivist for our family when it comes to videos, and much to my surprise I found myself looking at video of Grandma and Gramps for the first time in a very long time.

The only footage I have of them is on 8 mm film. Actual film, with sprockets and everything. I also have the projector we used to watch them on when I was a kid. As far as I know, the projector still works. The bulb is burned out, though, and they don't make 'em anymore, so I figured I'd never see video footage of them ever again.

It was a delight. Grandma hated having her picture taken under any circumstances, so in the video you can see her having a conversation with my cousin while facing Gramps. When she turns and sees the camera, a cross look comes over her face, and she holds up a hand to cover herself.

That gesture alone brought back memories that I never expected to think about again. It was also great to hear Gramps's voice again. The film that I have doesn't have audio. so I figured I'd never hear him again. Ever. And here was his voice.

I always say that the past is never far behind. I'm usually referring to big picture things, not anything like this, but this morning? The past was the present. It was like I was living it again for just a brief moment, and that was worth a great deal to me.

I don't remember the apartment we were in at the time, though. My aunt lived in a lot of places. My favorite was when she lived above the pizza place by the tracks in downtown Elmhurst, because whenever we got together there, we just had to walk downstairs to get dinner and bring it back up. It was called Two Brothers from Italy, and they were still there the last time I checked. (That apartment was also the first time I saw a bidet in real life.) But this place in the video? No recollection, and I hadn't begun drinking in earnest yet. The guy my aunt used to date was in the video, too. I recently came across a picture of a bunch of us with him and was trying to remember his name. Weird that he came up twice in my life recently.

And then there's the footage of me. I weighed 306 pounds at the time, so I didn't enjoy the reminder of what I looked like back then. Whenever I go to see my podiatrist, I sit in a chair that can accommodate perhaps two of me sitting side by side. I think, were I to sit in that exact same chair as the 2003 version of me, I might feel a little claustrophobic.

Despite that, it was good looking through a window into the past, where I got to see my grandparents again. Too bad my mom wasn't there. Back then she wouldn't have been too far down the road that eventually killed her. But since my brothers weren't in the video, I assume they were with my stepfather, their dad. It would have been nice to see her again, too. Ah well.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #936: SOMETHING TO RESEARCH

 As I've been cleaning out my house, I've been making discoveries here and there. Finding artifacts from 100+ years ago, for instance. Discovering that Grandma, who I have never seen read anything other than a newspaper, not only had a subscription to Woman's Day in the 'Eighties, she also had a few books! And it seems that she had authors she liked! The things I found most were pictures of people I did not recognize. I was able to surmise who some of them were (and confirmed I was right 75% of the time via my aunt, the only person older than me on my mom's side), but a lot of them are a mystery to me. I put these pictures aside, planning one day to find out who they were. If they were my ancestors, it would be useful information to have. I know what my great-grandparents looked like, and there are a few pictures in there that might be of my great-great-grandparents. I've been scouring their faces, trying to find a trace of something that would eventually become one of my features.

But yesterday I unearthed a box that said it was full of unused Christmas cards. Sure enough, that's what comprised the top layer. But as I dug deeper I discovered the receiving end of a correspondence my grandmother had with someone named Bessie. I have a sneaking suspicion it's her sister. I found further evidence of another Bessie, who I believe to be my grandma's aunt. But that's just me glancing through these letters. There are other letters, and it's helpful when they are addressed to, say, Aunt Shirley and Uncle John. I can easily figure out who they are. But the ones from the prolific Bessie are addressed to Shirley and John. Never John and Shirley, so I have to think she's a blood relative of Grandma's, or a close friend. But if she's named after the other Bessie, that's probably an indication of relation. And then there's another letter from someone named Barb simply addressed to Shirl. I only ever heard Gramps call her that. He also called her Squirrley when he was feeling playful.

I love a good mystery, and this one is pretty tantalizing for me. I've been gathering pieces of the puzzle and putting them with the pictures. One day, when I actually have leisure time (hahahahaha), I'm going to go through the mountain of evidence and solve this mystery (or series of mysteries, more like).

I know my dad's side of the family pretty well. I can't tell you how many aunts and uncles I have on that side, much less how many legions of cousins I have. My mom's side is shrouded with mystery. I have never met anyone from Gramps's family or Grandma's family. Never. I know the two of them. I know my mom and my aunt. I know my three brothers on this side, and I know my two cousins and their families. Nothing beyond that. I just know what my grandparents told me, and I recall them talking about their siblings occasionally, and when I was a kid they even traveled to visit said siblings. Every once in a while one of them would die, and they'd go to a funeral, but I was never along for these trips. I wonder why.

I know a few things about Gramps's family, but I know virtually nothing about Grandma's. I know her mom is buried next to her, that she died shortly before I was born. I know her family history is a mishmash of a bunch of stuff, but she was mostly English and German. I know Grandma's maiden name was Cota, and that her mom's maiden name was Friend (this last part gleaned from her birth certificate, another of my interesting finds). And that's it.

You all know how much I love to research, but it's a rarity that I'm doing research on, well, myself. The Bruni family has tons of lore, but the Cota and Kopoulos families? I didn't find out until two years ago that Gramps's name was Americanized. The actual name is Kyreakopoulos. That changed when his parents and uncle came to America.

(Funny side note. On Gramps's birth certificate, it says his dad's name was Nicholas Kyriakopoulos. I thought that was the actual name until I came upon his uncle's work ID and saw, in his handwriting, Kyreakopoulos. I've decided, Watson, what with my superhuman and brilliant sense of deduction (powered, I assure you, by a seven-per-cent solution), that I should trust Gramps's Uncle George over whoever filled out the birth certificate at the hospital.)

It suddenly occurs to me that I probably have two vast families related to me, and I have no idea who any of them are. Then again, how much do I know about my Grandma Laurette's parents? Or my Grandpa Lon's? My stepmom is big into genealogy, or at least she used to be. It was a hobby of hers at least the last time I was in Vegas, but that was almost a decade ago. I'll bet she has some info. Come to think of it, she's my second stepmom. I wonder whatever happened to my first. I know why she and Dad got divorced, but I only knew her when I was a child. It's possible she's still alive. I'd be curious to track her down sometime.

It's something to research, and I'm always happy when I have something to research.

GODNIGHT, FUCKERS #905: THE LAST CHRISTMAS CARD

 

You may know that yesterday I was cleaning up around the house. I posted some cool pictures on social media of a few things I found. But there was one I didn't post, the one you see above.

(My middle name is Paul if you didn't know that.)

This is the last Christmas card Grandma signed for me. The only thing is, I never got it. She put the card in a dresser and forgot about it because she had dementia near the end and hid a lot of things throughout the house. It surprised me finding this. There were a few others, blank, probably meant for my brothers. This would have been 2021. She still had about a half a year to live, and she spent most of it gone. Look at the handwriting. Her cursive used to be sweeping and beautiful, but age had turned it into a tremulous thing.

But the thing that made me smile was that she was herself when she wrote this. Grandma was hard to live with near the end for a variety of reasons that I'm not going to go into here. When I think of her I think of her near the end, incoherent, screaming, nearly blind. Not my grandma, in other words. But reading this card brought back memories of how she was before. Even on her funeral card you can tell she's not all there. She just knew someone was taking a picture of her, so she tried to smile. This card, though, helped me remember her in better times. Kinder times.

One thing about the card made me tear up a little. That last word: ALWAYS. It's like she barely squeaked it out, like she'd been trying to hold herself together just long enough to finish writing this sentiment. Like maybe she thought this was her last chance to tell me she loved me.

A lot of people seek out some silly idea of closure. There's no such thing, unless you invent it yourself. In my mind things don't really end. They change into something else. Not even death is an end, only a transformation. When I die I'll be buried, and my body will slowly turn into worm food. A fisherman will eventually use those worms to catch fish. And the fisherman will eat his catch, and so I'll be welcomed into a human's digestive tract until he shits me out, and I will have transformed yet again. Closure doesn't help. Continuation does.

But now I'm not so sure, because there was a certain finality in finding this card and nearly weeping over it. A certain peace. It's like there was someone telling me a story at a subliminal level, and the story just ended.

I'm glad I found it. It has brought me comfort, and sometimes that's the best we can ask of the universe.