1969 in time and space and on

Enjoyable long talk w/ mom on family history. Always thought we had somewhat of a normal family @ large, but there are some differences. Very spread out is my parents generation - well, generally America, Ireland, and England, and sometimes Scotland and Wales depending on the fishing and the kids college choices. Not so unnormal. But there are some chacets(sic).

My Dad was in family of nine kids(mom 10). Two sisters - one died in childbirth, and the widower married the next sister - she also was to die in childbirth (Ireland, man). (one of these sisters, btw, is the ancestor of cousin MAC who some know). the widower died after his wife, and the four kids were shipped to America to be raised here. However, the two aunts of mine in America to whom they were sent had ...... um harsh reputations as parents. Two of the four kids (one died at like four, the other drank himself to death, if i am rite) hated her and ended up moving into an apartment for awhile. This ended (Why?) after a bit, and eventually one just ran away from it all (tracked down to Georgia, of all places, years later- now a total member of the family. he drives up to Chicago to see people a lot, so I see him often). I remember both of these aunts - one I knew quite well and totally loved me (being the baby of all babies has its goods and bads), but the other I have hazy memories of someone who was fairly scary.

A warming thing Ive heard before was the cross family friendships. My family, when they came over, quickly bought a house and brought over the others when they could. Bit by bit they dribbled over - some on my Dads side moved back. But they all lived in the same 'hood, centered around maybe 87th and Racine. So, it's cool to hear the stories of MAC's dad Martin (Dad side) and uncles Mike and Tom (mom's) being frenz. Macs dad was also Dads Best Man, and it seems that Dad and Martin were pretty close.

One thing. Uncle Mike now lives in Boston and is a total fan of their teams. however, I cant imagine that he was anything but a Sox fan first - basically, the grand proportion of the family are Sox fans, and im guessing that the Sox's historical identity as the "Irish Catholic working class" major league team was still an issue @ that point in history Although Boston has an irish identity to it a bit, the Red Sox fans are pure 'white people'. Next time I see him I will bring this up.

Also, deeply depressing. My brother died of leukemia when he was six - it's 90% curable these days. I have no real memories of him - just the feeling, popping up through my life whenever i see brothers interact (I especially got this when I lived w/ Jackson and bro and being w. them so much) of how much I miss him. He died in November. My Moms Mom died suddenly. A four year old cousin (one of the four kids who were brought over from Ireland)died of a brain tumour 2m later. My Moms Mom died (20 August), and the next November (2 Nov.), my cousin Martin died in his sleep. Terrible tying times for the family. I remember none of these people w. a single caveat: i remember combing my hair when little in the wet style of Martin - and here, its only that I remember when I was doing it that I knew it was Martins style - not that I remember Martin now.

Mom told me a story of when the little girl - my cousin - died - on top of losing their brother 2m before - she called up St. Rita grammer and asked them to be easy on my sisters because they were so upset @ the dual losses. The gratifying part of the story which made both of us smile and weep was that the school held the girls in their prayers.

Nothing in life is ..... whatever. But, wonders on what I'd be like w. an older brother to beat the hell out of me and tuffen me up for life. My closest cousin is of course MAC - a close friend - but wonders on what would be the relationship w. the fouryearold cousin who died. Martin seemed cool as hell - so kool I copied his cut. What was he like? Dunno.

Like the Africans w. their deep voices who we played pickup soccer w. back in the 1990's on Belmont and Lake Shore drive (Africans, Mexicans, East Asians, Southeast Asians, Arabs, crackers, etc etc etc - it was a pitch in Chicago, but it was like walking in London and hearing every accent that ever existed in a typical 30m walk). When a guy was on the ground injured, they would clap twice or thrice and just say "Football. Football." - as in, 'we're playing a game and we all know this happens. Let's keep playing!'. Comme life. I die. You die. He/she it dies. We all know this. And, of course, the grand answer is "Football. Football."