Why I can’t stand my extended family - part 3
About 4 years after the family reunion disaster https://medium.com/@dreamer9177/why-i-cant-stand-my-extended-family-part-2-e4f8856513ff, one of my Mom’s brothers, not the one with the Winnebago, called Mim out of the blue less than a week before Christmas and wanted to bring his family and share the holiday with us.
Mom was ecstatic, but Dad was suspicious. Since Mac hadn’t been at the reunion, I had never met him. Mom had spoken with him on the phone but that was it. I know Mom was thrilled because Mac wanted to stay with us instead of Gladys. Dad wasn’t thrilled and he started investigating what was happening.
Dad found out that Mac didn’t go to the disastrous family reunion 4 years ago because Mac was a guest of the Commonwealth of Kentucky for several years since he was caught stealing and embezzling. Dad put his foot down and Mac wasn’t staying with us. Dad said Mac should never enter the house.
Mom was a softie. She explained that Mac had married after getting out of prison and had a wife, son and daughter. Mom was convinced that Mac had turned over a new leaf. Dad suspected that this new family wasn’t genuine, or helping Mac stay out of trouble.
Mom kept pestering Dad about being a good person until Dad finally relented and said that Mac and his family could visit and stay. Dad told Mom that the only reason Mac didn’t run straight to Gladys like the rest of her siblings was because of the prison thing.
Mom finally made the call and told Mac to arrive on December 23. On December 21, Dad grabbed me and told me to follow and not ask any questions. Mom had gone to town and the grocery store, so it was just me and Dad on the farm. Dad took me into the house and carried in several large wooden crates. We lined the inside of the crates with newspaper and old rags.
Dad started removing all of Mom’s best Chiba and silverware and packing it on the crates. Then Dad did the same with all of Mom’s most expensive jewelry. I can’t remember if anything else was boxed up, but we took those crates out to the end of one of our empty fields where he has already dug a deep hole. Obviously, we buried the valuables so Mac wouldn’t find them and be “tempted” because Dad said he would put both barrels of the .12 gauge through him if he tried stealing from us.
Mac and his family arrived 2 days later. His wife must have worked at Waffle House, and the kids weren’t his. The daughter was probably about 17 and nothing but trouble. The son was 11, my age, but already headed for jail by his actions. Mom looked past everything, especially the empty China cabinet. She didn’t know what Dad had done with everything, and Dad swore me to secrecy. I remember the eyes of Mac and his family always seemed to be casing the house, but Dad had pretty well sanitized it.
To Mac’s credit they did bring gifts, and they helped pay for the food we all ate. The wife was shifty, the daughter looked like she wanted to steal a car and get away, and the son kept asking if I knew anyone selling drugs.
Mac and his family left on December 27. Things got awkward pretty quickly. Mac and his smarmy smiles didn’t impress Dad one bit. Dad didn’t say anything, but his message was clear that Mac and his family weren’t welcome according to him. I didn’t form any bonds with any of them. They were simply the latest in a long line of extended family members I would grow up caring nothing about.
I have one more childhood story to tell later, and then I’ll close with the time when casual indifference really turned to hatred.