DecoDame
One of the Regulars
- Messages
- 215
Since "the ladies" are involved in most of these stories, I think we can take it. lol
I surprise myself that I’m going to contribute my own tale here, because the one thing my Mom drilled into my head (more by example than lecture) is to keep your family business in the family, and not share your troubles outside it. And that business rarely got spoken about within the family, either!
Maybe because it’s got to do with my paternal family, which we didn’t have much to do with, so it feels a little detached to me, personally. But anyway…
My paternal grandfather, Earl, was by all accounts a stinker and a nasty drunk. He had been in the Army during WW2, and I only know that because I have pictures. He didn't talk about it, or anything else, really. He was a small, wiry man who chain smoked and always was in a bad mood. My aunt, his daughter, told me that when she was very little (she was the youngest) she would look out the window of their second story city apartment when it was time for him to come home from the factory. If his hat was firmly over his brow, she’d relax. If his hat was shoved to the back of his head, she knew he’d stopped off at the bar on the way home and that night would be extra trouble.
A favorite joke of his, I’m told, was to put beer in the baby bottles and watch his toddler sons get drunk. Well, that “took” with all but one of his sons, and they became slaves to the bottle, too. Needless to say, the family was a mess and always feuding with each other about something, while my sweet, quiet, long suffering, tee-totaling grandmother tried to hold everything together.
Flash forward to when I was a kid in the 70s. A call came with the news that my grandfather had suddenly died. My family being my family, it took some time before the details trickled down. First, word was that it was a suicide. That my grandfather had put a gun to his head. That was scandal enough to shock my young self. But then, when I got older, my mother finally told me more. Seems Earl (who I hadn’t seen in years before his death) had crippling arthritis, especially in his shoulders. For awhile, he had barely been able to raise his arms much at all. Certainly not to his head. And the killing shot was more to the back of his head, to boot.
Apparently, my grandmother was put in the hospital after Earl’s death, delirious and seeing things (including “Barnabas Collins”, who was coming to get her, she thought). She snapped out of this after a bit and eventually came home.
There had been talk that one of my uncles was there when it happened, too. So the mystery remains: Did my uncle murder my grandfather? Did my grandmother (to protect her son during yet another argument? To protect herself from more abuse and misery)? Did my grandmother have a break, due to witnessing or committing the murder? Or did she fake an episode to protect her son or herself?
Shady stuff. The interesting thing to me now, is that the police never pursued this as a murder case. Either they’re grossly incompetent or they decided to give my grandma a deserved break and look the other way.
But now you know why we didn’t have much to do with that side of the family.
I surprise myself that I’m going to contribute my own tale here, because the one thing my Mom drilled into my head (more by example than lecture) is to keep your family business in the family, and not share your troubles outside it. And that business rarely got spoken about within the family, either!
Maybe because it’s got to do with my paternal family, which we didn’t have much to do with, so it feels a little detached to me, personally. But anyway…
My paternal grandfather, Earl, was by all accounts a stinker and a nasty drunk. He had been in the Army during WW2, and I only know that because I have pictures. He didn't talk about it, or anything else, really. He was a small, wiry man who chain smoked and always was in a bad mood. My aunt, his daughter, told me that when she was very little (she was the youngest) she would look out the window of their second story city apartment when it was time for him to come home from the factory. If his hat was firmly over his brow, she’d relax. If his hat was shoved to the back of his head, she knew he’d stopped off at the bar on the way home and that night would be extra trouble.
A favorite joke of his, I’m told, was to put beer in the baby bottles and watch his toddler sons get drunk. Well, that “took” with all but one of his sons, and they became slaves to the bottle, too. Needless to say, the family was a mess and always feuding with each other about something, while my sweet, quiet, long suffering, tee-totaling grandmother tried to hold everything together.
Flash forward to when I was a kid in the 70s. A call came with the news that my grandfather had suddenly died. My family being my family, it took some time before the details trickled down. First, word was that it was a suicide. That my grandfather had put a gun to his head. That was scandal enough to shock my young self. But then, when I got older, my mother finally told me more. Seems Earl (who I hadn’t seen in years before his death) had crippling arthritis, especially in his shoulders. For awhile, he had barely been able to raise his arms much at all. Certainly not to his head. And the killing shot was more to the back of his head, to boot.
Apparently, my grandmother was put in the hospital after Earl’s death, delirious and seeing things (including “Barnabas Collins”, who was coming to get her, she thought). She snapped out of this after a bit and eventually came home.
There had been talk that one of my uncles was there when it happened, too. So the mystery remains: Did my uncle murder my grandfather? Did my grandmother (to protect her son during yet another argument? To protect herself from more abuse and misery)? Did my grandmother have a break, due to witnessing or committing the murder? Or did she fake an episode to protect her son or herself?
Shady stuff. The interesting thing to me now, is that the police never pursued this as a murder case. Either they’re grossly incompetent or they decided to give my grandma a deserved break and look the other way.
But now you know why we didn’t have much to do with that side of the family.