08-03-2016, 02:55 AM
As I noted before, I went out with my Lynch cousins on Saturday night to the monstrosity of a Chinese restaurant that is Kowloon.
As is usual at these occasions, we swap stories of our fathers. My cousin David, who is closest to my age of Uncle's children, told a story that brought joy to my heart. I think it was supposed to be a horror story but I never saw it. My cousins children know how exciting these evenings can be for non Lynch's. David's son Kevin, although desperate for Chinese food after two weeks of working for Habitat for Humanity, decided to stay at home rather than be the only sub-thirty year old there.
To give some context, my Uncle Jim Lynch was in the military his whole life. He eventually attained the rank of Brigadier General in the Massachusetts National Guard. Most of the stories about him reveal how strict he was. Unless they are stories told by my father, then he is the fuck-up that burned down the family home.
David tells the stories of how arduous were the family vacations up to Canada. Uncle Jimmy made strict time table of when they were going to leave, how far they were going to travel each day, and when they were going to eat. They packed the car the night before and had drills about getting into the car. The family was made to pack an over night bag in addition to their main bag. If they needed something from the main bag on the first night's stop, they were SOL.
David talked about a stop at a picnic area that was referred to as Bugville or Bug Town. When David mentioned the name at dinner, the other siblings visibly cringed. It was called Bugville because the bugs were so thick they could barely eat their lunch between swatting at the flies. David was of the opinion that Uncle Jimmy chose this spot because no one wanted to sit there very long. This meant the time wasted on the stop was kept to a minimum.
I think I was supposed to cringe at the in-humaneness of my Uncle Jimmy. But all I could hear was plans and schedules and being in the car on time and only felt admiration for my Uncle. I don't know what these people were bitching about. I would have loved to have been on that trip.
As is usual at these occasions, we swap stories of our fathers. My cousin David, who is closest to my age of Uncle's children, told a story that brought joy to my heart. I think it was supposed to be a horror story but I never saw it. My cousins children know how exciting these evenings can be for non Lynch's. David's son Kevin, although desperate for Chinese food after two weeks of working for Habitat for Humanity, decided to stay at home rather than be the only sub-thirty year old there.
To give some context, my Uncle Jim Lynch was in the military his whole life. He eventually attained the rank of Brigadier General in the Massachusetts National Guard. Most of the stories about him reveal how strict he was. Unless they are stories told by my father, then he is the fuck-up that burned down the family home.
David tells the stories of how arduous were the family vacations up to Canada. Uncle Jimmy made strict time table of when they were going to leave, how far they were going to travel each day, and when they were going to eat. They packed the car the night before and had drills about getting into the car. The family was made to pack an over night bag in addition to their main bag. If they needed something from the main bag on the first night's stop, they were SOL.
David talked about a stop at a picnic area that was referred to as Bugville or Bug Town. When David mentioned the name at dinner, the other siblings visibly cringed. It was called Bugville because the bugs were so thick they could barely eat their lunch between swatting at the flies. David was of the opinion that Uncle Jimmy chose this spot because no one wanted to sit there very long. This meant the time wasted on the stop was kept to a minimum.
I think I was supposed to cringe at the in-humaneness of my Uncle Jimmy. But all I could hear was plans and schedules and being in the car on time and only felt admiration for my Uncle. I don't know what these people were bitching about. I would have loved to have been on that trip.
As a matter of fact, my anger does keep me warm