ItsOnlyBob

I’m thinking of petitioning the Steinbeck estate for permission to write a series of sequels to The Grapes of Wrath. Possible titles: Figs of Crankiness Kumquats of Snark Prunes of Condescending Disapproval Raspberries of Righteous Indignation Blueberries of Spittly Fury Kiwis of False Bravado   Coconuts of Compensation Trilogy Conclusions: Butter Peas of Vaguely Unsettling Malaise Kidney Beans of Disturbance in the Force Creamed Corn of Feelings of Inadequacy Stewed Cabbage of   Projected Shame Chipped Beef of   Disgruntlement Sauerkraut of Acute Despair Escargot of Existential Dread Fried Liver of Misdirected Anger Spotted Dick  of  Sad Old-Age Epiphany Head Cheese  of Unprovoked Aggression Groaty Pudding of  Self-Fulfilling Prophecy of Doom Gratuitous Continuations Just for Money:   Pork Rinds of Chronic Flatulence Cheap Beer of Spastic Colitis Kimchee of Explosive Diarrhea Junior Mints o...

Today I had my semi-annual phone chat with my cousin Lin. He is 83 years old and lives in Newberry, South Carolina. To be precise, he's my first-cousin-once-removed, the adopted son of my dad's Aunt Hazel (my grandmother's sister). His own dad, who died when Lin was a boy, was actually the brother of his adoptive father—so the person Lin called "Dad" was really his uncle. (Yeah, I have to sort that out anew every single time, too.) I have met Lin in person only once, on a family vacation that swerved through Newberry so my dad could visit with his Aunt Hazel —the mother of Lin's wife, Mabel. I was 11 or 12 at the time. This was in the early '70s, and it is the only memory I have of Aunt Hazel (who died in 2001 at age 102), or of Lin and  Mable , or of their son, Ross (who died in 2010 at age 45).  My three siblings and I remember Ross for a single conversation during that visit. He was maybe 7 then (he was three days older than my sister Karen) . ...