wideeyedfunk

Tag: family visits

  • 50 Years of Funk

    It is a little complicated and I heard different versions of the tale floating around over the weekend. One way or another, my WideEyedParents fled south to North Carolina and got married in 1963. They married with little consideration for the impact of a July wedding date on their forthcoming 50th wedding anniversary party.

    It was warm.

    Fifty one parents, kids, aunts, uncles, cousins, first cousins once removed, twice removed in all directions, second cousins, fictive kin cousins, grandparents, in-laws, and yet to be born WideEyedFamilyMembers sweltered in the humid July afternoon of rural-ish Virginia over the weekend. We feasted on Jinx’s masterful barbeque from the Pit Stop in Charlottesville. (Just in case Jinx is reading this, we promise, no one put the cole slaw on the pulled pork Memphis style. They were kept strictly separate.) We drank a rootbeer keg dry and made poor showing on the wine and beer. Evidently the kids were thirsty and the adults are too old to properly attend to a keg.

    We talked and feasted and toasted into the evening, and as the twilight grew dim enough to illuminate the lanterns under the canopy, the neighbor’s bootleg fireworks lit the sky. I tried to look poised and smug as though I had planned that final surprise.

    Fifty years of Funk. May there be many more.

    50 years of Funk commemorative baseball hat. Only 50 made. Rare.
    50 years of Funk commemorative baseball hat. Only 50 made. Rare.

  • 1,500 miles of family, Or, Caviar tastes like chicken pox.

    Stop 1: Scottsville, Esmont, Charlottesville Virginia WideEyedFunks:

    I was spooning caviar onto a smear of cream cheese at the pre-Christmas dinner snackie spread. Sister-in-law L. and Older Brother set us up with fine cheeses, Dracula’s Dilemma pickled garlic, some kind of awesome aged herbed salami.  And caviar.

    Our WideEyedParents were across the room and from around the Christmas tree we could hear dad shouting at mom: “Do you want some cold cuts?”

    “A cool one?” she said, “no, I don’t want a beer.” Heh. Might be time for hearing tests.

    Sister-in-law N. pushed through Sister-in-law L. and me to get to the snackies, “Quit snack blocking,” she told us. I inched my counter stool over an inch or so, but not really too far. I hadn’t tried all the cheeses yet.

    I lifted my caviar cracker to take a bite. “You eat that stuff?” Older Brother asked, clearly doubtful. I shrugged and ate the cracker. Older Brother watched me chew. “I don’t eat it,” he said. “Good,” Sister-in-law L. said, “more for the rest of us.”

    Older Brother glanced at her and put his attention back on me. “Caviar reminds me of when I had chicken pox in my mouth,” he paused, I think to judge my response. I had stopped chewing, riveted despite my worries for what was coming. “When the chicken pox popped they released salty juices that tasted juuuuust like caviar.” He smiled at me. I swallowed my chewed up and popped caviar with difficulty.

    Younger brother walked by, jiggling Baby Nephew. “Oops,” Younger Brother said, watching a big drooly spit up splat to the floor. Hamish and Miss Tibbit were mildly interested. Oldest Brother called from the Sunny Southwest. We talked about Sister-in-law J.’s belly dancing costume and safety pins. Young nephew strolled past in his new skateboard helmet, and Niece clacked at her new laptop.

    Stop 2: Ocean City, New Jersey Family of WideEyedSpouse

    Two particularly elegant women from My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding accidently joined us for Christmas 2.0.

    Older Niece wore her excellent new hat while she thumbed at something on her new smarty phone and Younger Niece trotted around the living room, tormenting Hamish with her interest in his plush fur. He ran, WideEyed, from corner to corner seeking asylum.

    Sister-in-law K and Brother-in-law P sat numbly watching Younger Niece and Christmas 2.0 events. They manage in retail and Christmas is Not Kind to the folks who at the most fundamental level facilitate our national economic security.

    Mother-in-law sniffed her new Chanel perfume, remembering Valentine’s gifts from her dad back in the day, and WideEyedSpouse and I waited to see what the relentlessly greedy Miss Tibbit would manage to steal from the table.

    All the while, My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding flickered on the TV behind us, benign and quiet, until we noticed the bride and her maid of honor beating each other into the sidewalk outside of their wedding hall. Sister-in-law K. grabbed the remote to turn it up. We watched in awe.

    Stop 3: Buffalo, New York WideEyedHousehold

    1,500 miles, 14 accidents in the cat hut, 2 major winter storms, 9 bottles of water, 7 travel cups of coffee, 6 days later, and we are home. The Christmas candles burned in the windows of the WideEyedHouse to greet us. The new snow gleamed on the garden fence and pergola, and Miss Tibbit did a little dance in the drive while Hamish rolled and rolled in the snow.

  • Nice to see you. What books did you bring?

    Wide Eyed Funks visit one another every now and again, even though leaving the comforts and libraries of home is difficult for us. We are happy to see each other even if the joy of the family visit is tempered by the knowledge that a certain amount of reading time is going to be sacrificed for actual human interaction. It is, at best, bittersweet.

    We have developed a solution to the problem. And what I can’t decide is this: is our solution – mutually enacted, endlessly repeated –  conscious or unconscious?

    When a visit to or from a Funk household is impending, the book stack begins. What might the visitor like to read, what might be passed on to the host from the far-flung family collections? Once the visit begins, the discussions about “what have you been reading” are far more interesting than accomplishments, work activities, household life events, yah yah yah. That stuff comes and goes. The books, they linger. And, the best part, since everyone has new books to read, no one is left out when an entire room of Funks is lounging, reading, quiet. That’s the part I can’t figure out: do we bring books to keep other Funks quiet? Or is the happy quiet fortuitous? I suppose it makes no matter.

    This time a mixed stack of books came from one set of the Virginia Funks. A mixed stack will go home with them – some which originated with the New Jersey Funks.

    Snack. Beer. Book.

    To Virginia:

    Island of the Lost

    American Lion

    Honolulu

    Cold Mountain

    Moon Called

    The Good, the Bad, and the Undead

    Getting Stoned with Savages

    The Year 1000

    Soulless

    To Buffalo:

    Red Earth and Pouring Rain

    While I Was Gone

    One the Occasion of My Last Afternoon

    The Virgin Queen’s Daughter

     There’s more to say – there always is with books, but really, I’ve got some reading waiting for me. And yeah – maybe I need some snacks and a glass of wine too.