Goodbye James: What I Did Instead of NaNoWriMo

Hello Funny People. With November's ending nearing faster than an evening spent in the company of good friends, I thought I'd update my little internet nook again. This month was one of plans; plans made, plans spoiled, and plans changed.

Originally, my plan for this month was to do a special NaNoWriMo project and complete the first draft of my unfinished novella, The Boy with Backwards Feet. Sadly, things didn't quite work out that way. Late last month, my family received its fourth hard-knock of the year 2022: my Uncle James Died.

My parents and I traveled to Southern California to a) attend his memorial service b) take care of some estate business and c) most importantly of all, help my Aunt Elvi (James's widow), with whatever she needed in this difficult time.

At the memorial, my mother and I each gave a eulogy about my uncle from our given perspectives. Because he lived in SoCal and wasn't fond of traveling, we sadly hadn't seen him in years and so could only recount our (very) old memories of the last time we saw him. (In my case, it was back in the 90s when I was still a little kid.) However, we also got a chance to hear a number of wonderful recollections from his community in Orange County, and it made things easier to know that he had such connections in his life.

The rest of the time out there we spent clearing out his home—desposing of old furniture and driving donatable items to the Salvation Army—and sprucing up the property. The latter included trimming and cutting down several trees, building a replacement gate to his backyard, and tearing down a shabby old pavilion. By the time we left, the place was in significantly better shape, inside and outside.

After each day of work, when we were all thoroughly exhausted from our efforts, Elvi would take us around that stretch of the LA and Orange County areas to different Asian cuisine restaurants. And we enjoyed every bite of every meal.

My Uncle James was a complicated man, who functioned much more from his head than his heart. This made him—what's a politic way to put it?—difficult to deal with at times. I said in my eulogy that he was a "likeable grouch," and my extended family deemed that an apt description. As a self-described grouch myself, however, I'm aware that there's always more going on in that person beneath the surface abrasiveness, and I was lucky enough to glimpse a little of that in James near the end (although we didn't know it at the time).

I spoke to James on the phone and exchanged a couple of letters a few years back, right after the anthology Beneath the Twin Suns came out. In the last letter he sent me, he asked me not to write him anymore letters (hang on, it's not like that), because he wanted me to spend as much time as I could pursuing, what he called, "my vocation." That was his way of saying he was proud of me, his weird youngest nephew who'd chosen to pursue the writing life and was having (modest) success at it.

Whatever his faults—and like all people, he had them—I'll remember him for that.

Of all times of year, now is when we should remeber how important it is to cherish family of all kinds. They make life worth living, but like everything in life, they won't last forever. So, while you can, show how much you appreciate them. 

Until next time, Funny People, stay safe, stay healthy, and take care.