Saturday, Feb. 08, 2003 / 7:04 p.m.

~Entry Numero Deux - Numero 800!~

A second entry for today, just because this will make it 800 entries in Diaryland. And because I have something I want to write. I could've put it in my blog, and I wanted to, but it takes too long to access Live Journal using the 14.4 modem and the 16 MB RAM. That's why I don't write there lately.

I wrote to my uncle's daughter, my cousin, just now. I wrote her an email letter, one beginning with "Dear" and ending with "Yours,". I need to know if my uncle is alive, if he made it to 80 years old, and if she wants to be my cousin, for real, if she is willing and desirous, if she wants to be my family. She is. She is my blood. She, her daughter, her brother, his children, their mother, my aunt. I won't be stuck with nothing but my shit for an excuse for a brother as my only family. I won't.

I am not alone in this life, but for my memories of those I've known, and two cats who will die in the years to come. This can't be all there is. There has been more, I can prove it with photo documentation. I know she exists, the cousin, and one my father's sister produced, her brother too. Two siblings on each side of two parents, and their single opposite sex siblings.

In other words, my father had a sister, and she had two children, a boy and a girl. My mother had a brother, and he had two children, a boy and a girl. I have four cousins, and they all have children. My father's niece and nephew are Jewish, they have Jewish children. My mother's niece and nephew were raised in Italy, but they live in the States now. My uncle is an ex-pat, married to an Italian woman. They're married, but they haven't lived together in years. When I visited him in Italy we had lunch with his wife and her lover.

I don't pretend to understand, I simply sometimes reach out, because I'm lonely, or is it alone? I only know I'm not the only one in my bloodline, there are more of us with shared DNA (?). I have family, out there somewhere.

I did it, I finally wrote to her, told her I wonder if she wants to be my cousin, for real, be my family, connect with me however, know me, and if she could please let me know if her father is even alive, as the card I got last Christmas was written by his wife, not him, for the first time ever.

I'm worried he didn't make it to 80. I'm worried he's dead and I will never know, or I'll know too late. And I ask myself if I'm looking for another inheritance, but that's a moot point as he has children and a granddaughter he loves more than life itself. I think he disowned his son as my mother disowned hers. Maybe it was all the rage at some point in time, but then I've disowned him too, my brother. The only one willing to 'own' him is his wife, but maybe she's gone by now too.

Blech. I hate thinking about it all, I just want to know if my uncle is okay. That's all. I like him. He made a killer potato salad. He hated the Italian government and always threatened to move back to the States. He got his mail from the APO, shopped at the Post, or whatever it's called, the PX. He was always Army or Air Force, or whatever military branch it's called. He drove an Alfa Romeo. His apartment had marble floors. He lived with two poodles, and once they died it was two cats, Siamese I think.

I wonder when she'll write back, how long I'll have to wait.

My Thrashers are playing Ottawa, their record now 7-2-1 under new coach Bob Hartley (husband of Suzanne Pleshette, for those old enough to remember, or those who watch Nick at Nite). People ask me all the time if I still go to games, "Hey, Joleen (not my actual name), been to any Thrashers games this season?", "Um, no, not really, well, one, I don't really keep up anymore", and they say, "Oh".

I look away, not wanting to talk about how I can't sustain friendships, how I have no one to go to games with anymore, and after all the times I went alone I got tired of feeling pitiful there in the stands, talking to myself, or standing to cheer when we scored, and kids behind me sat still in their seats.

I didn't even watch the games on TV anymore after a while. No reason why, except they sucked. And now they don't suck, they're a winning team, and I missed the transformation. I could watch now, but I sit here instead, that stupid song from last night still rolling around in my head, writing to long lost cousins, worrying about dead family members, and those who might be dead.

I must lighten up.

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