This is long overdue. I went back to northeast Iowa last August to memorialize my father in the community where he grew up and where he wanted to be buried. We had hoped that Wife #3 would have acceded to his wishes and released his body to us. This did not happen. So the funeral we planned transformed into a memorial.

I hadn't been out there since my father's second wedding, in December of 1977, nearly 30 years ago. Suffice to say that I hadn't seen most of my aunts, uncles, and cousins for all that time--with the exception of a few that traveled out to visit in California 20 or so years ago, and an aunt and my granny whom I saw at my youngest brother's wedding 15 years ago. All my cousins (18 of them) save one have had children. One is a grandfather 3 times over by now. The point I'm making is that a lot has happened in these people's lives, and I've not been a part of any of it.

I even blew off my granny's 75th birthday 13 years ago, and even sent a passive-aggressive "coded" message to everyone in my place. One of my brothers was clever enough to decode it, and although (or perhaps, because...) it made me look like an asshole, and was hurtful to my grandmother, he shared it with her. Essentially I was declaring that because the Iowa people never accepted me for who I was, even as a child, and as we had such divergent values, there was no point in my being in contact with or having a relationship with any of them. Pretty sad stuff. And it made going back there much harder than it needed to be.

To my relief and some amazement, and possibly due in part to the circumstances for my being there, everyone was so warm and kind to me. I felt so much shame for how I had behaved in the years before. Useless emotions--perhaps. But real, nevertheless. And yes, had we gotten into discussions on "values" or politics, I reckon some clashes might have occurred. Most of these people (the ones that voted) voted for Bush in both elections. And many--although how many I'm not sure, believe that the invasion and occupation of Iraq was justified. They may have changed their opinions since, given that things have gone so wrong there. But they are very patriotic people. Many of my extended family are in the military currently, and if any of them read this I hope they understand that my criticisms of the US Government, its military, and yes--those who "follow orders" when they are illegal, are not intended to attack them as individuals. I really don't want to attack anyone, not even George W. Bush, who I consider to be a war criminal--someone that deserves far more than impeachment. He should be sitting in a cell for the rest of his life, contemplating his crimes against humanity. That comment alone will probably make many of my cousins' hair stand on end. Sorry about that.

In spite of these differences, and perhaps they exist more in my own mind than anywhere else, these people are still my family. It is true that I've not made much effort to know them over the years, and the same goes for them about me. But some of this may be due to the fact that one of my brothers has maintained close contact with many of them, and he's relayed information in both directions--so it's not as if I've been completely cut off from them.

And I have my own wounded child issues to deal with, issues that come into sharp focus when it comes to my extended family. I had some rather negative experiences with some of them as a kid, and I've carried those memories all these years, to my own detriment. They have all changed, matured, evolved, and I have largely kept many of them in a box, expecting them to be as they were those many years ago.

I would not be surprised that many of them find me challenging in some ways. I changed my name--dropping the family name that many of them share. I no longer follow the religion that most of them faithfully practice today. I am open about my use of sacred sacraments for consciousness-expansion and exploration. And many of them are aware of my left-leaning politics.

None of that shit mattered when I was out there in August. It's true that I felt more "warmth" from some than others--but this is understandable as my own reserved energy with some may have been reflected back to me. The cousins I felt closest to as a kid were the most aloof, and the closeness I felt was probably lost on them as they are all several years younger than I.

Why the fuck do I turn myself inside out like this? It's not that interesting. I wish I were a poet or could express myself better. I can throw a lot of words onto the screen in short order, but I wind up saying almost nothing. How to capture what I'm feeling?

OK. Here's something. My father's mother, my last surviving grandparent, remains in the body, quite alert and present, although quite deaf. She has always been a sweet granny. But she is also something of an opinionated matriarch who has sometimes rubbed people the wrong way by sticking her nose into their business. She is a very strong woman, and my father was very close to her. I reckon that was the closest relationship he maintained throughout his life. When my brothers and I arrived at the Cedar Rapids airport and made the drive to Sumner, our first stop was at the home where our grandmother lives. It's a very nice facility as such places go and I felt much better seeing it in person than when I heard of her moving there a couple years back. When we got to her room and I saw her, tears started streaming down my face. It was so beautiful to see her, alive, looking healthy. I couldn't explain why. I still cannot explain why so much emotion comes up around her. Even writing this is making me cry. It's not like she's been really close with me--in the sense of being best friends, like I am with my own mother. But I think my spirit recognizes hers, and has felt her love all my life. In that moment I knew that making the trip to Iowa was absolutely the right thing to do. One of my dad's sisters was there too, and it was so great to see her as well. I saw them both at my youngest brother's wedding as mentioned earlier.

We stayed with another sister of my dad at a bed and breakfast she and my uncle run in Hawkeye. I was grateful to have such comfortable and familiar surroundings. I had never been to that place before, but stayed with them many times when I was a kid. They have five kids and my folks have four. So wrangling kids was something they were good at and it just turned out that it was easiest to stay with them most of the time. I had some great conversations with my aunt and her husband. I was surprised at how much my uncle enjoyed seeing me again and I was struck by how beautiful they both are. Life and age had mellowed my uncle a bit--he used to scare me a bit when I was a kid because he was a pretty intense disciplinarian back then.

That evening, our first evening there, they hosted a kind of open house where many of my cousins, aunts, uncles, and kids showed up. It was the first time I saw many of my cousins all grown up, and met some of their children. It was awkward in some cases, not so much in others. One of my cousins always intimidated me as a kid. He was older, good looking (he still is), and we never got along as kids. He was very kind in meeting me, but we didn't talk much. And this may have been my own fears from the past taking hold. I am not sure. I was impressed with him, his beautiful wife, and two of his sons who are both strapping, fully-grown, handsome men in their own right. Actually, all of my cousin's kids are quite handsome and beautiful. I come from a really good-looking family! (And yeah, I'm a bit biased on the subject.)

I also enjoyed talking with my dad's three brothers that evening. It brought up a lot of emotion thinking of them growing up with my own father, and reflecting on the relationship I have with my own brothers today. In my case there are some shared memories from childhood, but I didn't really get to know and really appreciate how wonderful each of my brothers are until I was well into adulthood. I didn't get a chance to get into all that with my uncles. But what struck me was some of the stories they told about my father when they were growing up. It seemed as if they were talking about a completely different person than the one I knew! My dad was the oldest and apparently was favored by his parents as a result. This engendered some understandable resentment on the part of his siblings. My dad apparently liked to play "pranks" on his brothers and sisters--sometimes really stupid and dangerous ones. Perhaps it was no wonder that he never talked about that part of his life. But my father, for all his love of genealogy and collecting stories from the past, was not very keen on telling stories of his own. So it was amazing to get a more 3-dimensional view of my dad from his brothers and sisters. I wish I had known those things about him when he was still alive.

I should be clear about what I mean by "family" as well. I'm not only talking about those with whom I share some alleles of DNA. I am most certainly including the families that my blood relatives have married into. My cousins' wives and husbands were all so nice. Some had more 'subdued' personalities than others, to be sure. And there was so little time to really get to know any of them.

The memorial service itself was the following day. It was freaking hot outside and I wore a suit for the occasion. A couple of my cousins were shocked that I wasn't in shorts and sandals. I think my antics at my youngest brother's wedding reception were widely reported. (I changed out of dress clothes into some crazy knit shorts and t-shirt that I had tie-dyed myself...and I hoped to do some wild dancing that night and needed something athletic to dance in...that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it....oh, and I was also tripping on magic mushrooms at the time!) Back to the memorial...I saw a few more aunts, uncles, and cousins that I either missed or were not at the get together from the previous evening. I didn't even recognize one of my cousins--I mistook her for another one and I was really embarrassed by that. Shit!

It was a little weird being in that church again. The last time I remember being there was my father's wedding to his second wife. It's a Lutheran church, a very small one with something like 20 rows of pews. And there's a statue of Jesus at the front--which makes it look more like a small Roman Catholic church in Mexico (now that I've been in a few of those). The pastor was a very nice man, quite beautiful in his ex-trucker bear body and white beard. We had actually spoken extensively on the phone prior to coming out to plan the service, and it went very well. I was way more emotional during it than I expected. I thought I had gotten most of my crying done in the nearly three weeks since my father leaving his body. But being in that church, which had a lot of memories for me, seeing his photo on the table before me, sitting next to his mother and amongst so many of his family...it just really hit me. The guy was GONE and I would never be able to see him, hug him, laugh with him, etc. again.

One of my brothers prepared a statement with some anecdotes from our childhood that illustrated some of our father's best qualities. He wrote it himself, and the memories were more poignant for him as they were more representative of his own experience with our father. I would say that he had the fewest conflicts or disappointments in relating with Dad. I don't think it was because he was Dad's 'favorite,' but more because he and our father share a more similar personality with a subdued emotional tone. Neither of them get as quickly riled or animated by things, particularly adversity, as my other brothers and I might. But we all agreed with what he wrote and that he should speak on all our behalf. He did so beautifully, showing some emotion around our father's death for the first time (in my presence, at least).

After the service I just wanted to get out of there. My grand plan to be stoic or subdued fell apart. I rushed outside into the 95 degree heat, walked out into grassy yard next to the church, and started wailing. It was weird. I didn't want to be there any more. One of my brothers had gone outside for the same reason, so we got together, hugged, and talked a bit about our father. He was the youngest and had the least amount of contact with our father. Some might even argue that he was abandoned by our dad, because after his divorce from our mother, who was still drinking at the time, he moved across country and didn't take his youngest, most vulnerable son, with him. I think it actually worked out for the best because his second wife was kind of intense. And our mother cleaned up her act soon after that and became the best mom ever.

Our mom, who had accompanied us out to Iowa, came out to see if we were OK. Wow...our mother! Most of the extended family knew her better than my father's subsequent wives as she had been around them more when we were kids. It was beautiful how well received she was by them. For many she would always be their Aunt Barbara, no matter who our dad was married to. And our mom is a really loving, open, beautiful person, and she really enjoyed connecting with the family again and wants to stay connected. I feel the same way, although I fear I may slip back into old patterns. I guess it's up to me, day to day, to choose how much I want to relate or not.

The reception after the service was very nice. The "church ladies" and others did a wonderful job with the food and everything. I wasn't feeling super-sociable, so I didn't mingle with the cousins I didn't see the night before, and I regret not rising above my own selfish emotional state and reaching out to people who are still alive and whom I might want to know better.

(More later...)