Aunt Rose.

My Aunt Rose died on Saturday night.

I wanted to write something out, to acknowledge this and say something about her, but after several attempts I've realized that it's not going to happen. I'm not okay about it. On one hand, she was nearly 96 years old (I mean 94 of course. She didn't want anyone to know how old she was, and even her obituary didn't know the truth. Keep it amongst yourselves.) On the other hand I love her and I'm not ready and it sucks. On a third hand, she's with my Uncle Joe and her children now. On a fourth hand ... I miss them, too. At some moments more than ever.


So for the past few days I've been hanging around with family members that, for one reason or another, I don't see very often. (For the sake of clarity I should note, unless it's my Aunt Rita, who is my father's sister, any time I mention an "Aunt" or an "Uncle", you should assume that it's one of my grandparents' siblings, and that they've been dead at least 15 years.) First, there's Aunt Rose's grandson and his children, who are around my age. My cousins and I have always had this weird sense of rivalry and dislike going on with them, and I really don't even know why. I know that it was handed down from our parents. I think it may be because my cousin Theresa was always a miserable pill all the time. But we liked Theresa, so, really, I don't get it. Truly, they've probably all turned out to be great people, and better people than my cousins at any rate. But I wouldn't even know how to start a conversation with them. The fact that we were crying over the same woman who had so touched our lives while we were standing on opposite sides of the room was interesting, to say the least. Oh, and the one that I had been thinking of as "the baby"? He's, like, sixteen now. The fuck.

Her granddaughter Roseanne was also there, and she's awesome. I used to play with her daughter Kelli when we were very small, but I couldn't talk to her. Literally. She's deaf.

Roseanne's siblings were not in attendance, and my cousin Suzanne was snubbed from the list of surviving family, so that's all you really need to know about that.

Then there were the relatives that I try to avoid because they all became Born Again Christians. I don't mean that I dislike them, but I try to avoid them. See, they're good people, and friendly to a fault, and because of their religious ethics and family values, they'll be first in line to help you if you, say, need to have your house repaired or need help getting out of bankruptcy. But they also sometimes send out Christmas cards with poems about the Judgment Day and how the unbelievers will burn in a lake of fire. Their sense of humor is also seriously lacking. How am I, to whom blasphemy is like a second native language, supposed to handle that? Also, they home-schooled all their children, reinforcing all the worst home-schooling stereotypes in the process. Thanks, guys. Except, I did get to see my cousin Nicole again, and she always seemed pretty sane. She went to school for massage therapy. I wouldn't mind seeing her again. I bet she's awesome.

Then there are my Aunt Rita's children, my lonely two first cousins. ... I don't even want to discuss them, really.

As I sort of expected, I had many relatives gushing that I look just like my grandmother (or, as most of them unsettlingly refer to her, "Aunt Gracie"), and recalling how beautiful she was. She was beautiful, but I don't look like her, and I don't know why they all think I do. I mean, I'm sure I resemble her a little; she is my grandmother. I do look a lot like my father. Of course, I also look a lot like my mother. It depends on which one I'm standing next to. I'd say I'm a fairly even mix, and I'd say my father is an even mix of his parents. So, by that account, I look about one-fourth like my grandmother ... and three-fourths not like her. Really, though, my grandmother had small, round eyes. My eyes are large and almond-shaped. My grandmother had a round nose. My nose comes to a point. My grandmother had an oval face. I have a square face. My grandmother had jet-black curly hair. My hair is chestnut-brown and wavy. Although it has been very humid lately, so it's been curlier. Anyway. I think they're just seeing what they want to see.

I also got to meet my Aunt Madeleine's two children, whom I don't think I've ever met before. Her daughter looks just the way I remember Aunt Madeleine looking. And she also looked a lot like Jenny. It was odd. She hadn't seen my father in some 20 years, so she made a great fresh audience for all the tragic stories of all his maladies. Which he regaled her with, incidentally, while they were both kneeling at the casket. Oh yes he did. My father, ladies and gentlemen.

My Aunt Rose had a brother named Nate that she was just crazy about. I never met him, as he died before I was born, but she talked about him all the time. His full name was Natale D'Amore, which in Italian means "Christmas of Love." Isn't that the best name you've ever heard? His four daughters were there. I'm sure I've never met them before, but they were very familiar to me because they all looked just like Stephanie. It was crazy. They all had similar eyes and noses, and they all had her hair and they all wore glasses. So for a few minutes I pretended that Stephanie was one of my cousins and it made me very happy.

There was one thing that my cousin Michael said to me (one thing that didn't make me want to hit him, anyway) that made me ponder. With Aunt Rose gone, with all the people that we've lost gone, our connection to those other people in that room has pretty much disappeared. Aunt Rose was, as my sister called her, "the last of the dinosaurs." ... I believe she meant it as a compliment. She was the last of all the old relatives, the ones the different branches had in common, the ones that made holiday dinners, the ones that connected everybody. I wondered, more than once, if I would ever see some of these people after this.

We had some adventures getting into the line for the cemetery. Of that cemetery: "Who's there?" I asked my mother. "Everyone," she replied. I saw my Aunt Madeleine and Uncle Neil and Aunt Mary. I saw a few cousins and many familiar names. I looked a little bit for my grandparents, but I didn't really look. As we were driving through, my mother teared up suddenly. I'm sure that's where my sister is. I've never been to a cemetery except when laying someone to rest. I've never felt the urge to go back. Aunt Rose was laid next to her husband, my Uncle Joe. They were married for 60 years, and she'd been without him for 18. They ran short on flowers, so I didn't get to place one. Before I left, I kissed his name with my fingertips.

Radio Update.

So, I've been listening to the radio when I drive in my car. Which I do now at least three days a week. My life is so on the edge, I know.

I have become very enamored of WRXP, 101.9, the erstwhile smooth jazz station. Now The Rock Experience!

Today I heard Death Cab For Cutie on the radio for the first time ever. That's right! First time ever. Also, the White Stripes. And! They played a U2 song that I don't think I've heard before, and it made me not hate U2 for a little while.

(About that, I don't actually hate U2. But have you noticed how everyone is all about U2 all of a sudden? And about how they're apparently the greatest band in the history of the world forever in the whole world? It's driving me crazy. Because - no. You're overdoing the praise. Having "In The Name Of Love" be the only song you ever play does not help. See also: Van Halen.)

The DJs actually talk about the music and concerts that they went to and stuff like that. BUT. Importantly, they do it quickly, keep it to around a minute, and then get back to playing music. Except today one of them was talking about his divorce, and it was really awkward.

Also, someone in that studio is in love with the song "Time To Pretend" by MGMT. I hear it all the freaking time. (My history with that song: I got it free off a music website and decided I didn't really care for it. Then, later, A. sent it to me along with another of their songs. Because he didn't know! The second song made the first one sound a lot better. Ugh. But! Now that I keep hearing it, I don't mind it. It's everywhere, though! Moonlight used a lyric for an episode title. Speaking of which - [single cold tear for Moonlight].)

Results of election leaked early?

I know I don't usually talk about politics, but I wanted to share this. I get my Latest Primary Results news from AOL.com, because it's easiest because that's where my email lives. I haven't checked any other news sources, so I don't know if this is an isolated incident - but I doubt it.

Today, Nebraska and West Virginia are holding their primaries. Clinton and Obama are battling it out in West Virginia! But it seems, when I checked at 7:15 this morning (don't ask), Obama had already been declared the winner in Nebraska, with 0% of precincts reporting.

The polls in Nebraska, incidentally, close at 9PM, CT.

Look, it's not that I doubt that Obama will win Nebraska. If that's what the indications are, fine. However, call me old-fashioned if you must, isn't it customary to actually hold the election before you tell the people who won it?

And another thing.

Don't rhetorical questions get question marks anymore? Where was I when this was apparently decided? Have you noticed this disturbing trend, which is to say, the deficiency of question marks? Am I overreacting?

Here are some observations about insignificant and unentertaining minutiae.

So, yesterday I engaged in some foreign activities. I listened to the radio. While I was driving. On the Parkway. I can't even tell you about the time I passed someone utilizing the left lane. COULD YOU HANDLE IT?

The radio station I was listening to was 101.9, which you may remember me mentioning was a hated smooth jazz station. But wait! It has changed, and is now WRXP: The Rock Experience. See what they did there? It's actually pretty good. As I was driving in my car (!) listening to the radio (!) I heard a song on this station that I've totally never heard before. (!) I was intrigued because it lifted a lyric from a Fleetwood Mac song: "When I talk to God I knew he'd understand/He said stick by me and I'll be your guiding hand." (The new rhythm of the line caused me to realize that I'd been mondegreening that as "I'll be your God in hand" - which, come on, that's a lot better.) Then, as I was listening, it suddenly occurred to me, "Wait a minute! Is this The Clash??"

Well, sort of. Turns out the song was "Why Do Men Fight?" a new single by Carbon/Silicon, a band comprised of Mick Jones of The Clash, and Tony James of Generation X. It's not bad. I bought it off iTunes.

In tangentially related news, I'd like to show you the Best Shirt Ever.

Speaking of new and exciting things: I just went through a drive-thru for the first time ever. Well, as a driver. Naturally. I mean, this is America. I've been to a few drive-up ATMs, so I figured I was ready for this bold next step. I went to McDonald's to get a big-ass thing of their new sweet tea. Sweet tea is exactly my brand of heroin [/hates Twilight]. And, just as I'd planned, they asked me if I wanted anything else, other than a beverage, and I was totally like, "Nope!" Just the tea, thanks! I managed it well, even gave exact change, but I still don't like anything that involves me reaching out of my car for things. I don't think it'd be so bad if it weren't for my congenital shortness.

And now, here are some vignettes of domestic envy:
- My Swiss neighbors have a Dyson. Not the purple one, the yellow one, but, a Dyson nonetheless. I still don't have one, and I still want one.
- My next-door neighbor has been going to the gym, and I think she's definitely skinnier than I am now. Also, her husband looks just like the Chief.

Oh, and apropos of having to go get that picture from IMDb, I've always thought Prince Caspian was a douchebag. Always.

Guys, I haven't decided what I'll be having for lunch yet, but I'll totally let you know!