Traveling not so light
Sister is a weird one. Got back to Dallas and Wetzel Cabana, which is Sister’s term, and we had to rehash every little detail from the weekend and the funeral.
“Kramer, we need to watch out for them, you know,” Sister was saying, and then proceeded to help herself to a second and third helping of Pa Wetzel’s birthday cake.
“Yes, Kramer, you were what? Six months premature? Something like that? Mom was in labor, what? Sixty hours?”
“Yeah, Kramer, you were always the \\sensitive\\ one. You’d hit me, then I’d tell mom ‘Kramer’s hitting me,’ and she’d say, ‘he’s just showing you that he likes you,’ he’s \\sensitive\\.”
One of my cousins listened while we related the version of Ma Wetzel’s story about **the list**. “In case I go first, there’s a list of females that I approve of so your father can remarry again. But it has to be some woman on the \\the list\\.”
My cousin looked at her husband many years, cocked an eye, and in very serious tones, “There is \\no list\\ from me.” [As if to say, “don’t even think about it.”>
Which really isn’t so odd, that side of the family is best characterized as **strong** women. Mighty women. Mighty strong women. Don’t even think about it.
I don’t suppose it’s any surprise that I would view that side of the family as a matriarchy. No news there. Writers, artists, herbalists, a little of everything. After looking at my aunt’s archives, though, I do protest that I don’t have a choice, as I get my ability from both sides of the family.
