We were a great foursome. Cousins that loved to be together. Sally, Jimmy, Larry and me. We lived in a small town that bordered Wisconsin in Upper Michigan. My family moved away when I was in fourth grade to Northern Wisconsin. A straight shot up Highway 2, a long 165 mile trip. I really looked forward to every visit back to see my relatives, but especially my cousins. We did everything together. We were all within the same age, but I looked up to them all as they seemed so much older, and were way cooler. One of my favorite adventures was crossing the train trestle that would
bring us to another state. It wasn’t that far of a walk, but it sounded good. Every time I watch “Stand by Me”, I think of that day. It’s fuzzy in my mind, but I don’t think our journey over the train trestle ever put us in real danger. We did all the usual things teens do together…smoke cigarettes, try moonshine, and drink a couple of beers while sitting on casket at the casket factory. Maybe the last one not everyone has tried.
We played a lot of board games at Sally’s house. She was beautiful with her long shiny blond hair, and I always remember she was always nice to everyone. She even taught me how to ride a two-wheeler when everyone else had given up on me. It’s no wonder I wanted to be just like her. It never ceased to amaze me that the games at her house, unlike my own, had all the pieces to them. They were kept in a neat drawer, in an immaculate kitchen. Sally’s mom, my aunt Alice with her severely arthritic hands, and loving smile, let me know that if I wanted to play cards at her house, I had to know how to shuffle. She then proceeded to teach me, she always amazed me. Sally and I once put ants in chocolate candy and gave it to the neighborhood brats. Must have been Sally’s idea.
Larry came from a house full of boys. I came from a house of all girls. Once, Larry’s mom, my Auntie Joyce, removed a pack of cigarettes from my jacket and threw them away. I knew to never bring it up or to bring cigarettes there again. She never told my mom, I knew she wouldn’t. My auntie always had my back. Larry always had the best new record albums. He and I would listen for hours to them in his room. He was for the most part quiet like his dad. I always thought of him as sweet. There was a gentle kindness about him that I loved. I fell off his moped once, and he took such good care of removing the imbedded gravel in my legs. By the way, there were cigarettes in Larry’s pocket too!
Talented in so many ways, my cousin Jimmy could play guitar, take the lead in a musical, and in my eyes, do whatever else he chose to do. I think I was the closest to Jimmy of all my relatives. There wasn’t much we couldn’t talk about. Jim’s mom was the true leader of our family, nothing would have gotten organized without her. But she was also the giver of a hundred hair-twisting, agonizing, smelly perms. How I loved that woman! Jimmy even sang at my wedding, anytime we are together is special to me. I don’t even resent that he is a better gardener than me.
We grew up, went on with our lives, only got together occasionally, but I believe they are a large part of who I am today. In our early 60’s now, our numbers recently dwindled to three. Our Larry has left us. It breaks my heart, but I concentrate on how lucky we’d been to be such close cousins…and aunties. Just recently, those same cousins told me they were told they had to spend time with me by their moms. Such incredible, unbelievable nonsense.
Published in Bottom Line News & Views May 24, 2017