CLEO

When Uncle Charles came up North during summer, he warned Aunt Rene not to drive the car while he was away.  A few months earlier she had taken my Mom on one of her shopping joyrides and had torn someone's fender off while she was attempting to "park".

My very responsible mother was proud of Aunt Rene when she asked her to look for paper and pencil to leave her information on the victim's windshield.  Just as my mom was about to hand it to her from her purse, Aunt Rene decided to flee the scene and floored it out of the parking lot.  She told my mother to just shut up...and they made a beeline for Hallandale.

Aunt Rene quickly drove under the carport and just as quickly disappeared into the house...and returned with a tarp that she positioned over her own damaged bumper.  My mother was horrified and Aunt Rene was triumphant.

  No sooner were they in the house than the phone rang....my mom answered...and the caller identified himself as the chief of police.  My mom recounts covering the receiver with her hand and telling Aunt Rene who was calling.  What followed was a quivering Aunt Rene telling my mother to "tell him I'm not here".  Next came the message from the chief that they were collecting money for some charity, and Aunt Rene instructed my mom to " give them whatever they want....how much does he want?" Squawk Squawk.  AHH TEE !  Life was tense for hours until Uncle Charles came in and asked what was going on with the car. Aunt Rene simply replied " Cleo".  When he asked her what the hell she was talking about she said that the hurricane..."Cleo" had caused the damage. Asked for the details, she explained that the hurricane had swept in...picked up the car...banged it into a tree...and brought it back into the carport.  Simple enough.  Uncle Charles just stared at her...shook his head, and took the keys.

PERFUME,SHOES, AND MADNESS

Aunt Rene loved to shop. No one loved to shop with her however. After a harrowing ride to her favorite shopping center, she'd "park" so close to other cars that I always had to squeeze out the passenger door...having learned that she was never open to any suggestions about anything...especially driving or parking. One gorgeous afternoon when I really wanted to be on the beach, I was instead following her around  Burdine's like a puppy. At one point she motioned for me to come over to a counter...where she spun around and sprayed me with a perfume tester. She let out a very loud "AHH TEE" as I squirmed away and she kept trying to get me again. I remember going into one of the Ft Lauderdale bars that night...showing off my bronze tan and still faintly smelling like Lily of the Valley.

We hit the shoe department next, sat down in the very crowded area, and Aunt Rene told me how pretty I smelled. It didn't take her long to drive the saleslady crazy..pointing, squawking and trying on crazy looking shoes. When the woman sitting beside us took off her shoe in order to try something on, Aunt Rene quickly picked up the woman's own shoe when the poor soul was walking towards a mirror. I immediately tried to tell her that the shoe belonged to the woman....and Aunt Rene just ignored me and not only put the woman's shoe on, but damn if it didn't fit just right. By then I was beside myself with trying to explain what she was trying to do....while her only response to me was to ask  if I liked it as she pranced around looking for the mate. When the woman noticed Aunt Rene with her shoe...she sorta smiled as she corrected Aunt Rene's mistake. Of course Aunt Rene didn't have her hearing aid...and kept smiling at the woman....so happy that she too liked the shoe. It was only when she started to become impatient that the polite lady's attitude changed. "These are MY shoes!"......was met with "Go ahead and take them then...let's get out of here". I tried to explain her mistake as we hurried off to K Mart, but all Aunt Rene said was that she'd seen them first.

The K Mart in Hallandale Florida is not for the faint hearted. It was about a thousand degrees in the store....and it was K Mart Days or something as Aunt Rene loaded up her cart with all kinds of crap. She loved cheap windchimes, stuffed animals, lotions and potions, and pinwheels. The checkout lines were hopeless, but we stood there and waited our turn while Aunt Rene went on and on about the shoes. After the not so friendly salesgirl rang us up Aunt Rene was shocked at the total. " I don't have that kind of money !" Once again I wished I could just slither away as though I'd never seen Aunt Rene before in my life.

What happened instead was that she began very reluctantly to push things aside ...one by one...with a reluctant "you can keep this...you can keep that". The next person in line looked as if he might actually strangle Aunt Rene (you know Florida), and I'm sure the girl at the register absolutely hated old women from that day on.

By the time we tore down her street, finally on our way home, her mood seemed to improve as she waved out the window and shouted hello to people. However when I said in an unusually loud voice " watch out for that dog"...she yelled "Oh shut up". Maybe I was in a bad mood by then too. Between the shoe battle, the K Mart fiasco, the treacherous drive and the heat...I guess it was understandable...I slumped down in my seat and wondered what I'd tell her the next time she wanted to go shopping. I also was coming to understand my Mother's prayers when they were in the car together.

A BAT OUT OF HELL

The ghost of Aunt Rene came to me in my sleep last night..to remind me that she also had another "sound" that she used to communicate. It went something like "ahh tee"....if she said it softly it was a term of endearment..like "oh, what a nice little kitten", but if she sorta screeched it out...like a big loud  "AHH TEE !!!!" it meant something like "get the hell out of the way". I was also reminded of the fact that Aunt Rene drove...a big old Plymouth I think...and a ride with her was memorable. She would put the dog up on the back of the front seat, dressed to the nine's with her big pink hat, and while the car was in neutral she'd press her foot down on the gas..hard. She'd grip the wheel and suddenly push the "D" button. The car would go roaring out of the carport, the dog would fly into the back seat, and Aunt Rene would screech a big "AHHTEE" as she rolled over the hibiscus bushes in the front yard. Now Aunt Rene was of the mind set that all of the neighbors were always delighted to see her. She'd wave out the window and smile and squawk at anyone who happened to be in sight. A few would of course yell good morning, or wave, but most of them just looked puzzled...or frightened, as she wove through the neighborhood. Sometimes my partner reminds me of her,,,waving to all the neighbors, especially when we're at the cottage. "Hey!...HELLO !..."there's so and so"...HOW ARE YOU?" Guess who I call him as we drive along.

Aunt Rene shopped at her two favorite stores in Hallandale. K Mart and the KWICK CHECK. Now when I was down there visiting I noticed that the big neon K on the KWICK CHECK store was burned out, so Aunt Rene called it the WICK CHECK for the rest of her life. And so have I. In order to get to the shopping areas it was necessary to get onto I95...a treacherous high speed highway any time of the day. Aunt Rene's theory did not involve any concept of "merging". She would start up the entrance ramp and drive as fast as the car would go...and then fly into the traffic. The fact that I and anyone else who ever rode in her car is still alive is close to miraculous. When my Mom would have to ride be with her, she recounts that while she used to pray that she'd make it back alive... eventually she started asking God just to make it quick.

          ( I guess there's gotta be a part 3 to this. )

AUNT RENE

Aunt Rene and Uncle Charles came to visit us every year or so when they lived near Harrisburg, and then they moved to Hallandale Florida. Much to her sister's dismay, they bought a house a few doors away from my grandmother, who thought that her sister Rene was crazy from the get go. My family always thought she was unusual, and even though she was my Dad's aunt...he always told people she was my mother's. Uncle Charles would often just stare at her or whisper softly "she drives me NUTS". Uncle Charles was kind and patient to the rest of the world...but I often thought that he'd like to strangle Aunt Rene.

My DAD'S aunt was pretty...beautiful white hair that always looked perfectly coiffed, and a good body her whole life. She dressed nicely, and took good care of herself. She was always hard of hearing as long as I can remember.

Although she spent a fortune for a top of the line hearing aid, she never wore it because she wanted to save the battery...hence communication with her was always difficult, frustrating, or totally impossible. When I introduced her to a friend from Kittaning, her response was " Oh I love Canada." Any time anyone would correct her....she'd become immediately angry and make her famous sound. The written word just can't quite describe her special sound...kind of a squawk like a parrot maybe, or a sound you might make when you take a spoonful of some awful medicine...like AHHH! Aunt Rene didn't actually speak much at all....while there was nothing at all wrong with her vocal abilities, she just chose to use sounds instead of words. If you showed her a nice photo for instance, she might give out a soft little squawk, but when her dog would sneak out the front door when she went to get the paper...she'd make the same sound magnified about a thousand times.

Her dog had an unpronounceable and un-spellable name. It sounded something like Kitzie...or Zitzie...but she said it didn't start with a K or a Z. Actually his name was Ruffie...but neither Aunt Rene or anyone else ever called him that. People were always saying " what's that dog's name?" and she'd say Ditzie...but no....that's not spelled with a D. The dog was constantly trying to run away...and Aunt Rene was constantly squawking his name. Uncle Charles told me once that he didn't blame the dog at all.

Her other pet was Peter the parakeet. He didn't last long in spite of Aunt Rene's CONSTANT attention. She sit by his cage and say " What's the matter Peter?"...like all day long. Over and over...and loud enough that I could hear her when I was on my way to her house from my grandmother's. When I asked if he was sick or something she said of course not....I'm just talking to him. I always wondered if Peter was just paralyzed with bird fear from her constant loud questioning. Alas and alack, one day the questions stopped, and Peter's cage was empty. When I inquired about his whereabouts, Aunt Rene just said "Poor Peter...he was a sweet little thing"...." But where is he? I asked. " Sat on him." Poor Peter indeed. Maybe that was what wrong with him all along...some sort of a parakeet premonition.   ( part 2 of Aunt Rene tomorrow.)

TONY PERKINS DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE'S TALKING ABOUT

Tony Perkins from the Family Research Council is just beside himself these days. When the president announced his support for same sex marriage Tony started appearing on all the talk shows, which I expected. What I didn't expect were some of his theories on what makes people gay. He was asked what he'd do if one of his own kids came to him and said that he or she was gay. Tony said that "first of all, that's not likely to happen". I would imagine that's actually true...who the hell would want to come out to this guy? If he had a gay offspring, they'd probably choose to  waste their life in the closet... ashamed and terrified of what the truth would unleash in the Perkins' family. A gay Perkins kid might also just get married to someone of the opposite sex to either wait out this homosexual "phase" or to keep the peace...oblivious to how much pain ensues from gay people towing the "straight" line in heterosexual marriages.

Tony went on to say that his kids wouldn't be gay because they've been raised correctly. When Barney Frank asked him if he then believed that Dick Cheney and his wife did something wrong...and thus produced a lesbian daughter...Tony sputtered a little. ( Now I have to admit that seeing Dick Cheney and Barrack Obama on the same page about marriage equality seems more than a little weird to me.) What an insult to any parents of gay kids...to say that it was their "fault" that their son or daughter is gay. The son of an

ex-marine who grows up in the most "manly" environment is just as likely to be gay as is the one who grows up with his Dad sewing sequins on his Halloween costume. When I was about 12 I overheard my Dad telling my Mom that he wouldn't mind me wanting to give up my swimming lessons because they interfered with my baseball games....but he knew I wanted out of the pool because it interfered with my square dancing. So come ON now! I don't kneel down and say my prayers at night as often as I used to, but when I do I absolutely beg God and all the saints in heaven to bless people like Tony Perkins and Rick Santorum with the gayest, most outrageous, over the top, drag queens and dykes on bikes that the world has ever seen...sort of like Michelle Bachman's husband...you know Marcus...aka The Swiss Miss...when he prances around like a 300 pound butterfly...if he's not busy at his clinic helping gay guys to "butch it up". Give me a break.

STRAWBERRIES. CORN HUSKS, AND WARM HIDES

Woof and I planted strawberry plants yesterday. The two of us worked together in  the raised bed...me on my hands and knees with Woof's warm hide right beside me chewing on an asparagus stem. I used to grow that in the same place but by the time I'd get around to harvesting it would be three feet tall. Growing strawberries at home is a challenge...between the birds loving it, and trying to keep it watered and weeded...it's easier to buy it at Emma's roadside stand. I used to try to grow corn also...but for all the space it takes up...I was lucky to get a couple of ears. When Woof was a puppy she snatched an ear once...and chewed it to bits...husk and all...underneath my Mom's bed.

Woof and I still laugh about that.

We moved on to the flower garden after the strawberries were planted...and at this glorious time of the year it's hard to know where to begin. The gardenia's that I over wintered look pretty straggly, but they're blooming like crazy and the scent is other worldly when we sit on the back porch. We sit there a lot...Woof with her head on my lap, me with my feet up, and I wonder if I ought to have a glass of white wine...but it's only 1:00. Then I think of my wonderful friend Jane. Once when we were out for brunch and the waiter asked what she would like to drink. Her reply was " It's really too early to drink..so I'll just have a glass of white wine". I love Jane.

After my mid day refreshment, Woof and I moved on to planting flowers. It's almost overwhelming to make any kind of decisions in the nurseries these days. Eveything looks gorgeous...the colors are absolutely brilliant, and all of my pre planning and winter designing flies right out of the greenhouses. I always swear that I'm going to buy a flat of snapdragons...go home and get them in the ground and then buy the next batch. That never works. I inevitably end up with the back yard looking like a plant sale.

None the less....this is the time of year when my spirit soars, and I can't wait to get my hands into the dirt..."soil" sounds too sophisticated for a gardener like me. My partner will "work in the yard", but he doesn't "garden". One day when I was rushed and trying to wind up my gardening at the cottage, I asked him if he'd stick three little pansy plants into a window box. When I glanced out the window a few minutes later he was in the process of pulling on huge rubber gloves...like I said...he doesn't really "garden".

Woof is now standing in front of me with her head cocked...VERY ready to get out into the sunshine and start a project. She said yesterday that I ought to write this blog at night....after the sun goes down, and we quit for the day...dirty fingernails, and dusty paws...and both agreeing that it's been a wonderful day.

I DO

WELL WELL WELL....Yesterday was certainly an historical one. Hearing the President of the United States say that he thinks gay people ought to have ALL the same rights as straight people meant much more than many people may think. Most important from my place in the world...and from the work that I do....it validates every gay man or woman who struggles with self acceptance.

Just as the election of an African American president made EVERY kid in this country believe that they might one day hold that office, this is a message to everyone who ever falls in love that one day they might be able to actually get "hitched". There is still a long way to go...but this is a very significant start.

I loved watching the anti-equal rights folks going crazy last night...and can't wait to see more of them going ballistic today. One of those Bible thumpers from Pittsburgh had his Holy Book open yesterday...with "God's words" about a man lying with another man underlined. Somehow he kinda skipped over the lines about not eating shellfish, or stoning unfaithful wives, or keeping slaves.

I guess God just sorta whispered those things while He shouted the others.

The President took one small but courageous step yesterday....now it's our turn...to take the giant ones to ensure equality for all mankind. Remember friends don't let friends vote for people who hurt their friends...Speak up..just like that Muslim, socialist, Kenyan did.