I wish I would have thought of the title line, but it’s actually from a song by Blue Oyster Cult (later covered by Metallica) called “Astronomy.” It’s probably a good thing I don’t have (and I certainly don’t need, nor want) access to the psychotropic drugs that were available in the mid 1970s, but people came up with some hella cool song lyrics while stoned on that stuff. Now it seems the pop stars and rappers are more worried about whether or not the words rhyme, and/or if cop-killing and sister-raping can be successfully included in the story line. Apparently today’s drugs just don’t motivate good song lyrics.
I like that old psychedelic stuff. The song lyrics, that is.
I found last Saturday’s short hiatus and respite to be most energizing. I love it when I can turn off the world for awhile, and I need to do it a lot more often than I do.
Tonight I have to do something rather distasteful, although it does involve a short solitary road trip (that part of the adventure should be pretty good.) I have probably at one time or another told the story of my grandmother’s twin sisters – the ones who, when my great-grandmother died, were about 70 years old. The both of them were rather eccentric, and their tastes were largely indulged, as they were both married to relatively wealthy men. I never really liked either of them very much, but I acquired a little bit of contempt toward them when they got in a fist fight over my great-grandmother’s paltry belongings.
70 year old twins duking it out over a bunch of worthless old lady kitsch is a little bit over the top. I’ve walked past better stuff at garage sales. Great-Grandma was not a wealthy woman, and she didn’t need a lot of stuff. None of her stuff was particularly valuable. Neither of the twins needed any of that stuff. It was about possession and control. I was never close to either of my great-aunts, and after that I never really wanted to be.
Witnessing that little melee convinced me that I never want to fight over dead people’s stuff, even if it’s really good stuff. My sisters will cannibalize my parents’ stuff, should they both outlive my parents, and they will fight over it, though the oldest one will ultimately end up with everything she wants. If I am still alive, I won’t be there to stand back and watch. They can have it all. My Dad had to hide a lot of Grandma’s stuff- as well as all of Grandpa’s WWII medals and other memorabilia- to keep my oldest sister from taking everything. What she wants, she takes. Unless she can’t find it.
The only reason I don’t drop dead is that I don’t think my son can stand the visual of my sisters fighting over my bras and underwear.
The older twin (I think she was 98) finally went to the Great Beyond last Saturday, and the calling hours are tonight. I can’t take off work tomorrow to go to the funeral (OK by me) but I at least have to show up at the calling hours to keep my mother from having a coronary, and so Dad might have one sane person to talk to. Mom’s relatives are downright weird, and they are the huggy-kissy type which is positively nauseating to me. But politeness dictates.. so I will show up. Briefly. Very briefly.
I wish funeral homes had drive-thrus. I don’t think the idea would catch on in Ohio, where people make a really big deal out of funerals and wakes, but I wish that at least that the one I have to go to tonight had a drive-thru. Sign the book and get the hell out…