Cousin Lucy has a blog.

And apparently lives in Barnstable. And posted about my book. I haven't seen any of my cousins since my grandmother's funeral, back in 1990. My father and his brother Elliot (father of said cousins) were not close, which is a WASPy way of saying they pretty much hated each other. But I always liked him (he owned every issue of Playboy ever printed), and I adored those girls of his when I was ten or so and we all gathered in Ruxton for my grandmother's eightieth birthday. I was this goofy hick kid from southeast Ohio, and here were these three fine looking redheads with their bell-bottom Levis and straight-backed Yankee names—a few years older than me and very sophisticated, having grown up in exotic California. Oy. They say memory opens up like a big video scrapbook when you hit seventy or so. I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to that or not.

1 comment:

phb said...

Funny about that Playboy thing. He used to keep them in his bathroom and my Mother used to come and visit us here and then we would all go down, stay with Eliot and visit with Grandma Loo. Well my 2 girls [who were anywhere from 6 to 13 as the years went by] used to go to the bathroom and be in there for a long time. I would occasionally ask, "Are you alright?" It wasn't until long after both Eliot and Grandma were gone that the girls confessed that they had discovered the Playboys in the basket in the bathroom. Ah the lessons of youth come in many way. By the way, this is the other family of cousins... Pam, daughter of Esther.