On the importance of family

My extended family is big. Very big. Though I only have four first cousins, and they're all on my dad's side, I've got more second and third cousins on my mom's side than I could possibly count. This past December, I received a Christmas card from my mom's cousin Frank Jr., who has lived all over the country but in recent years has settled just south of Portland. I've heard stories about Frank Jr. my whole life. He owned a flower shop for years, and continues to create new strains of irises and day lilies. He performed onstage, and was an extra in classic films including Showboat and Raintree County. At present, he's gearing up for a community theater production of Rent, which is my favorite musical of all time. He's a boisterous guy, full of personality, and has never lost his southern accent despite decades of living outside Mississippi. He sent a card asking me and Bobby to drive south and meet him, and yesterday, we made the trip.

We drove into the parking lot of his apartment building, and he was standing outside to greet us. He greeted me by calling me "Little Jackie," and we began to get acquainted. Bobby sat through stories about relatives he's never met; relatives I've heard about my whole life. Frank Jr. took us to lunch at a nearby cafe, and spun us tales for hours. When it was finally time for us to return to Portland, he didn't want to let us go. More stories came and went, and he consented to record a brief hello for my mom, who hasn't seen him since before I was born. We posed for a quick photo before giving many hugs goodbye. He and I had quite a connection in those short hours, and I found myself wishing we'd met decades ago. I love a southern accent and a riotous tale, and Frank Jr. is full of both. I'm thrilled to have finally met him, and look forward to our next visit.