family

For the past few years, my dear sister Debbie G has been kicking it, off and on, with one fella named Tony A (not in the pic at the right). Every time I go back home, he's there. It's cool with me.

I'm home 2, 3 times a year for only a couple days at a time. Not often. But as far as I can tell, Tony A is okay. My gift of reading people has rarely failed, and although we all have our dark side and I can't say for sure, all I've ever felt was that he is, maybe not perfect, but a solid individual. And he loves my sister to death.

Tony A and me have always been cool. He's funny, humble, generous w/ his time every time I've ever seen. A down to earth dude from Louisiana who might have been a Jones in another life. Ask me and I'd tell you my sister is lucky to have him. Yet, one of the last things he said to me past November was that he's glad whenever I'm around because I take off some of the heat my sister puts on him.

Tangent/

Here are fundamental truths about the women in my clan... females I've known for more than half a century. Brace yourself.

1. I love 'em all dearly. That's a given but I had to say it.

2. I will kill for every one of 'em. Yeah, I said it. I meant it. Kill. DO NOT MESS WITH A SINGLE ONE AND LET ME FIND OUT.

3. Count yourself lucky that you will prolly never tangle with any of them.

4. None of 'em, not even head lionesses Ruth & Frances, scare me. They have my full respect--yeah, I genuflect when they're around--but they don't scare me. I mean, not really.

5. A mad... I mean... a very angry, a VERY angry tiger lives just below each of their skins. Don't ask me why. I don't know. I have NO explanation. Ask them! Just know: if you ever find yourself around them, don't make no sudden moves. And don't say nothing stupid. They don't play. Not nare one of 'em.

6. ... and this is the weird thing... I will never, ever understand why a man would put up with this type of woman. I wouldn't bother, myself. I like easy. Why, why... knock yourself on the head?

/Tangent

While I'll never say Debbie G and Tony A's relationship was/is/will ever be blessed by the gods, one thing I'll say for dang-sure is: Tony A can cook. Period.

Hold that thought.

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When I go home the few times that I do, it never fails that, for whatever reason, more than one of my blood relatives... people born to the same mother and father as me, living 10 minutes away... refuse to join us in the talk; the hoola hoop in the back yard; the sitting around; the bar-b-q; the watching/arguing about the movie we all just saw on Debbie G's humongous big-screen.

I might be there for three, four days... sometimes a day and a half... and I never see these BLOOD relatives. Not once. You call them, leave messages, and I may as well be a lousy tele-marketer who needs to be ignored. Which is cool. I've found peace with it. But...

... in a recent dialog, the question was: Is Tony A from Louisiana "family"?

It was a damn fine question.

I say yes, he is.

Which leads to another question: What *is* family? I have my particular thoughts on that, too.

Yours?