Girls Just Wanna Have Phlegm!

The following week, I make contact with the attorney and schedule a meeting with Diane to start the bankruptcy ball rolling. Filing bankruptcy would buy her 60-90 days, which would give her more time to find another place to live and to figure out what to keep and what to sell or store. The meeting was set for Friday of that week.

I call Diane that day to tell her about it and got no answer and no call back. Same story the next day. This was unusual since Diane would usually look at her caller ID to see who called and call me back accordingly. So, on Wednesday night, I decide to go over to the house and see if anything was amiss. (And only half jesting, I told my wife I was going over to see if she was dead) After a few minutes spent banging on the door and walking around the place, her neighbor comes by. I introduce myself and ask him if he knows where Diane is. He proceeds to tell me that she and her male companion Al took a week's vacation to Washington, DC!!!!!!!! Did she say a word to me about it? Noooooooooooo!!!!!!

So there it is in a nutshell, Diane vacations while Bill bails her ass out!!!!!!! And that $300 she needed for oxygen equipment? I'm guessing that went instead to pay for her trip! Right then, I had half a mind to wash my hands of this deal and watch her sit there doing nothing till the sheriff came to evict her and throw all her crap out on the curb! I was fucking pissed!!!!!!!!!

Oddly enough, the following Friday, I got a call from my beloved Aunt Diane! Needless to say, she was shocked when I finished her sentence which began, "I'm in...."

But then she said, "And I'm back in the hospital." Yes, she was at Walter Reed with her third bout of pneumonia in the last four months! Went on to say the doctor said she could fly home the following Monday (wouldn't you like to have been be the lucky passenger who got to sit next to that mucus machine for three or four hours!)

But the best part is, she actually had the stupidity to ask if I'd heard anything good from the attorney, (overlooking the irony of me doing all her damn legwork while she's coughing all over the capital!). Holding my tongue, I told her that there was no good news, that she'd have to file bankruptcy when she got back that she'd have to find someplace else to live, because yes, she's gonna lose the house. Her response? "Well that's probably gonna take them awhile...."

So since she was sick, I was denied the opportunity to unload on her. My wife told me I sounded pissed while I was talking to Diane, but sadly, such subtle little nuances seem to elude her. I started to wonder seriously, since she seemed to be getting weaker with every round of pneumonia, if sooner or later, that one big phlegm ball with her name on it is gonna catch up to her and send her to that great big ash tray in the sky...

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

As summer began, things began to slow down in Diane's little saga. Some things didn't change however as, whenever I asked her where the $185k went, the only response I got was, "I don't know."

In early June, Diane was hospitalized once again with pneumonia. As before, what she said would be a five day hospital stay turned into 10. When she returned home this time, it was obvious this round had taken a lot out of her and she was on oxygen day and night. Her weakened condition was obvious when I went by to pick up some documents and found her sitting on the front porch, looking like hell (which in her case...well, never mind) with an oxygen tube up her nose and a stupid, mindless grin on her face.

In this time, I was still working with Countrywide to try to figure a way out of foreclosure and with the FBI to do whatever I could do to nail the con man. However, in July, things changed. Though I had previously taken as gospel Diane's fuzzy tale of being taken by a con man, some elements become clearer after I had a chat with the FBI agent working the case. Though she was taken and her credit used to purchase other houses, according to the G-man, she apparently did go out and legitimately get a loan against the house before ever contacting the con man. Thus, she pissed all that money away and wound up at the con man to try and refinance her first loan! Needless to say, I lost much of the sympathy I had for Diane after this conversation.

This was all the more frustrating when one considers that Diane came to me needing $300 and offering me a post-dated check payable on the 25th in return. Said she had some extra bills she couldn't pay related to the oxygen equipment she's had to pay for since her second round of pneumonia. This was driven home when she couldn't stand on the front porch for more than 30 seconds without having to sit down to catch her breath.

This was all well and good, except for the fact that, according to the FBI agent on the case, she also went to the credit union that holds the note on her car wanting to squeeze $300 more out of that loan because "a sister had passed away out of town"! (she doesn't have any sisters) When they turned her down and suggested she go to family in town, she told them she didn't have any family here!!!!! Also of note here, Diane had the balls (or stupidity) to go to the same credit union where she had fraudulently cashed the insurance check. When that was mentioned to her, she told the lady at the credit union the FBI would take care of that! I mention that because, when recounting to me the story he'd gotten from the lady at the credit union, the FBI agent quoted Diane almost verbatim using the same pitch she'd used when she called me.

Now it was obvious Diane had a little bit of con man in her as well and, though I was tempted to wash my hands of the whole thing, I still felt sorry for her and felt like I needed to see it through till the end. Turns out, the end was coming faster than I knew.

In late July, my phone rings. I pick it up and without a hello or anything else, Diane immediately says, "They're gonna sell my house." The sheriff's sale date was three weeks away and she would likely need to vacate two to three weeks after that. Though I had told her all along this was very possible, she seemed surprised by all of this. I advised her to start thinking about what possessions she wanted to sell or store and what she wanted to take with her when she moved.

I tried to remind Diane that there were still options, however. I knew she could file bankruptcy and, if nothing else, buy some time and get out from under the rest of her other debt. And, though it hadn't been promising, I was still trying to figure something out with Countrywide.

My first call was to Diane's bankruptcy attorney. He was out of town and wouldn't be back around till the following Monday. From there, I called Countrywide. Once we all got on the same page, they pretty much realized very quickly that she didn't have any options, save for rolling the delinquent payments back into the note, giving her an even bigger monthly payment. Hearing that, it was time to find Diane someplace to live.

It was plainly obvious Diane needed to be in some form of a senior center. I priced an apartment or two but most of them were somewhat pricey and offered little security for an old lady. I then spent a fair bit of my free time trying to find out what it would take to get Diane into a senior type place she could afford. For the Catholic ones, she either had too much income to qualify for the low income center or just barely enough income to afford a nice independent living center. Problem there was, they didn't have any studios available. I then looked at city funded senior housing. She could certainly afford it, but there were no openings at any of the centers she would want to live and the application and wait process was going to take too long.

Finally I settled on some nice high-rise apartments downtown that offered reasonable rates,all bills paid, six month or one year leases and private garage and secure entry while still leaving her about $1500 a month to live on. Now all we had to do was get bankruptcy filed....

The Smoking Gun

By late March, Diane was feeling better. And now, an IRS/Treasury Dept investigator (working together with the FBI) wanted to sit down and interview her and they wanted me there to make her feel a bit more comfortable. If they liked what they heard, there was talk they would put her before a grand jury!

Though I was skeptical as to how much coherent information she'd actually provide, the agent very patiently walked her through everything and she was surprisingly lucid in her answers. What was notable was the "aha" moment when we figured out that Diane's note with Countrywide was a re-finance of a previous loan. This was significant because all along Diane had said she went to Countrywide on her own and surely she wouldn't have been dumb enough to actually take out a loan against the entire value of her home, would she?

What we figured this meant was, Diane went to the con man for a loan of some form, he got her a loan against the whole house but diverted the funds, and Diane only went to Countrywide when she got fed up with the con man. Countrywide then re-financed and paid off the previous loan, and this answered the question of where all the money went from that loan. Because, surely she couldn't have been dumb enough to take out a loan against the entire value of her house, right?

In addition to trying to get Diane out of this mess, I also decided to see if there were any veteran's widow's benefits that she was entitled to. Apparently, in seven years of marriage, George never got around to getting Diane down as his spouse for the VA. He either never signed and returned the form or was too cheap to pay the nominal premium. Thus, save for TriCare health insurance (which was all encompassing and pays for everything) Diane wasn't getting a damn thing as the widow of an over 20-years-of-service veteran.

The VA told me to get a number of items, such as death certificates, dishcarge forms, etc. It took six weeks of nagging Diane but she finally handed me a large, vinyl bank envelope (that reeked of cigarette smoke) filled with all kinds of random paperwork and several of George's official military forms, still in the frames she had put them in!

Smoke And Mirrors

As this saga began, every time I talked to her, Diane again reiterated her claim that she would get a part-time job to make everything right. Or, as Diane put it, "I'll get a job delivering pizzas for Pizza Hut." When we thought about this, the idea of Diane getting a job was actually laughable. Why? Because what can a 71 year old woman with no social skills actually do? Yes, she could deliver pizzas, but that requires good driving skills (uhhh no), a certain amount of fearlessness (don't think so), and an ability to figure change in your head (and as you've already seen, numbers and thinking on her feet ain't exactly Diane's strong point).

What about greeter at Wal-Mart? Lots of retirees do that, right? Well, even if the lack of social skills were to be overlooked, that job requires you be on your feet for the better part of the day and have a certain amount of personality. Given her physical condition and generally nil personality, I figured the best Diane could offer America's largest retailer was someone who would sit at the door most of the day, offering up an occasional phlegmy, "Hi." Rest easy Sam Walton.....

As March began, I started trying to sort out the whole mess. Going through paperwork, trying to correspond that with what Diane could tell me, and playing off anything the FBI had picked up in their investigation. In the middle of the month, Diane (who was either unwilling or unable to tell me the whole story) calls and tells me that she was in the hospital with pneumonia. I ask if she needs anything and she says no. When she does go home (three days after she told me she would), she's on oxygen and weak. So much for getting a job.....

As I went through the paper work, I found Diane owed a shitload of money to everyone, everywhere. Specifically:
Credit Cards
Chase $18,237
Another Chase $8,206
Bank of America $6,620
Catherine's $1,537
J.C. Penney's $3,823

Loans
Car (re-fi) $3,478 (on a $5020 re-fianance of a used car!!!!!!)
Note Loan $571

Mortgages
Her own home $183,714
Home Equity Loan $46,400

Other homes $130,211
$102,638
$92,150

Second Mortgages on the above others
$32,851
$26,388

The other house mortgages would go away with foreclosure, so that only left the credit debt and her own home loan to worry about. I figured, some way, some how, the con man had made off with majority of the funds from her home loan. Whenever I asked where that money went, Diane could only offer, "I don't know."

And, btw, why wasn't there a second mortgage on the third home that the con man had duped Diane into "buying"? Well, because it burned before he could get that lined up. But, where there's a mortgage, there has to be structure insurance, right? Well of course, this guy manages to have Diane take the insurance check she received to the bank and get it cashed (without the endorsement of the mortgage company), specifically instructing her to get the funds in five separate cashier's checks and to bring the checks and receipts to him. She got one of these checks as her payment for this "job", he took the rest. OK, while technically illegal, it certainly paid better than Pizza Hut delivery......

And aside from ill-gotten insurance funds, what was the con man gaining in the house purchases? Since he owned a finance company my guess is, in the primary purchase, he overfinanced the loan (i.e. got a $60k loan on a $40k house sale and split the difference with the seller under the table), racked up big loan fees which were rolled into the loan, and got a commission when he sold the loan upstream. And of course, the second mortgages were just easy cash grabs! Oh, and as I found out from the FBI, he was then renting out these houses, keeping the rent monies, and telling the renters they were renting to own....

There's A Smoker Born Every Minute

My first call after visiting the lawyer with Diane was to the FBI. They were already looking into the man who had conned Diane into signing her name at closings, so they took my information and set up an appointment for later to go over things in depth and to peruse all the paperwork she had.

Next up was a call to the Department of Human Services. They took my info and a day or so later called back and got further details. A few days after that, a DHS case worker calls and tells me she's in Diane's driveway and getting no answer at the door, but that her car was in the driveway. Thinking Diane had taken the message of "speak to no one" to heart, I call her, thinking if she's home, she'll see my name on the caller ID and pick up. I got no answer. Later when Diane calls back, she tells me she was at the doctor. I tell her the case worker's name and that she would be back the following Tuesday.

I also mention to Diane that I needed some further information so I could begin trying to figure out the depth of her problems. She informs that she gave some of her paperwork to "the girl at the finance place." I respond, "What finance place?" Diane, the woman who had been told to not do anything, not talk to anyone, and refer everything to her lawyer says, "Well I got this thing in the mail and it said they could save my house. So I called and they said they'd talk to Countrywide and they'd work with them and take care of everything." Fighting the urge to just go over there and have her sign her own death warrant, I politely informed her that it was another scam and that if they call again, she should refer them to her lawyer.

A few days later, I question Diane about a summons she'd received but not mentioned. Her response? "Well I hadn't heard anything more about that for a couple months so I figured it just went away..."

A few days on, I get a call back from the DHS case worker. She confirmed that she found Diane very confused and that she believed hers was a case of elderly abuse. She suggested I line up a financial guardian for Diane and said she would refer her report to the DA. A day or so later she calls back and asks who Diane's doctor is, thinking she would check with them to see if they might have noted any reduced mental capacity (insert your own tacky remark here, I'm running out of them).

So I call Diane to follow up and ask her about her meeting with the DHS lady. Diane says she just asked a bunch of questions, including several about if she gave the con man any money. And what did you tell her Diane? "I told her I never gave him any money" What about the checks that he had you cash and hand to him? "Oh I forgot about that..."

When I ask her who her doctor is, she replies, "Who wants to know?" The DHS lady. "Why?" I lie and say that she wants to make sure you're receiving the proper care. "Well I go to a bunch of different doctors." Which one were you seeing that day last week when the DHS lady came by? "Errr, ummm, that was an oncologist, but I don't have cancer!" Other than to get his name, I was literally too dumbfounded by that statement to reply.

Passing along this info the DHS lady, we were both confused, but her check with the doc's office revealed no notation of compromised mental state in Diane. Maybe they just never took the time to try to talk to her.....

The mystery was kind of solved some weeks later when we discovered that the oncologist was also a hematologist (blood doctor) and Diane had said she was anemic. Just another little detail Diane had neglected to mention.....

The Phlegm Hits The Fan!

A couple years ago, my wife spots Diane at lunch with a man. When I talk to her and tease her about having a boyfriend, she tells me he was her painter and that she owed him lunch. However, a few months later, when we invite Diane to a Mother's Day brunch, she asks if she can bring someone along, explaining that this was the person she'd been spotted with and didn't want to say anything then till she "knew where it was going."

This man was a widower from her church, a gentleman named Al. Al and/or his family welcomed Diane and suddenly we didn't see as much of her at holiday gatherings, nor did she spend as much time calling us, my parents, or my Aunts and Uncles. She had quit smoking, lost weight, and now had someone to spend time with and something to do other than sitting around thinking about what to decorate or redecorate next. Things seemed good for Diane.

That was until Saturday, February 10th, 2007, when Diane called and asked if she could come over. We didn't think too much of this, as Diane would often bring over little gifts for us or the kid for various occasions and we figured, with Valentine's upcoming, this was the case.

The bubble burst when she arrived empty handed. Though initially miffed that she hadn't brought a gift, I then figured that perhaps Al had popped the question and she had come to tell us in person. That thought dissipated when I saw no ring on her finger.

Diane sits down and tells us she's in trouble. My immediate thought then was perhaps that stallion Al, in the midst of an old bitty booty call, had put one past the goalie and there was a little bundle of joy on the way. However some quick calculations in my head ruled that out. Then I wondered if she was gonna tell us she had cancer (I mean, for all the smoking she'd done, she might as well have been eating asbestos!).

Choking back tears (and some big phlegm balls) Diane told us she needed $15,000 or she would lose her house. The very house that Papaw had paid for, left to George, and gone to Diane free and clear upon George's death. When I pressed her for an explanation, she launched into this rambling, disjointed story about how she "wanted a nest egg" and had spent too much on her credit cards, and subsequently borrowed some money. She then mentioned going to a finance agency and how the man told her she needed a job. Trusting and naive soul that she is, Diane asks the guy for a job. The job he gives her? Going to home closings and signing her name. She then rambles on about how one house burned, how the man sent her to the bank to cash checks, how her credit was ruined, and that she'd get a part-time job and pay back every penny of the $15,000.

Thoroughly confused but seeing immediately Diane had been taken advantage of, I handed her a check for $500 and suggested she look into bankruptcy to get out from under her debt, never thinking she'd be dumb enough to mortgage the house. A quick check of the county assessor's website revealed that, indeed, Diane was listed as the owner of three other homes. I told her I'd go to see the bankruptcy lawyer with her on Monday but that first, I wanted to see all the paperwork she had on all this crap.

The following day, I go to her house and the worst was confirmed. That $15,000 was merely to get her reinstated because, there, at the top of a credit report, was a delinquent loan on Diane's house for over $185,000! When I asked her where all the money went, she responded, "I don't know." For every different way I phrased it and different angle I took, I got the same answer. Oh yea, she also had a $46,000 home equity line of credit maxed out too. This is to say nothing of the other delinquent credit card bills, the apparently refinanced note on her 1997 Mercury Grand Marquis, the mortgages on the three other homes, and second mortgages on two of them!

The following Monday, I head with Diane to the bankruptcy attorney to make sure she didn't get scammed again. Turns out this guy was an older attorney, had made his money, and now just took it easy by doing only bankruptcies. He was crusty, straightforward, and almost contemptuous of Diane for having dug herself such a big hole.

The attorney proceeds to tell Diane that bankruptcy won't save her house and that filing it may actually get her booted sooner, so she should start looking for someplace to live she could afford. Diane replies, "I can't lose that house! It's been in the family and I was gonna leave it to him (motioning to me)." The attorney looked at Diane and said she might as well be leaving me the Titanic.

As he's about to send us on our way, I show him some of the irregularities in some of Diane's paperwork, including the other mortgages, and the loan app on her house that said she had a monthly income of $5300 (it's actually $2300). Seeing this, the attorney knew there had been some fraud committed and gets on the phone with the DA's office. While he's on the phone, Diane turns to me and says, "I just wanna file bankruptcy," which she repeats when he gets off the phone. The attorney scoffs and repeats that it's not on her best interests. Instead, he gives me some numbers to call and suggest we talk in a couple weeks. His parting words to Diane are, "Don't do anything. Don't talk to anyone. If anyone calls, just tell them to call your attorney." When I drop Diane off, I reaffirm this to her.

The Merry Widow

After George's death, I'd check in with Diane periodically to say hello and make sure she was OK. Her main concern was generously trying to get rid of all of George's clothing. Problem was, George was bigger than I am and his fashion sense stopped evolving during the 1970's polyester stage. (Undeterred, when we held an 80th birthday party for my Mom in San Antonio, Diane even lugged some of his clothing and a pair of boots along to try and hand it off to various cousins and cousin's spouses.) I finally took a couple tuxedos, thinking I'd get them cut down. When I got them home, however, I found they were nicely moth-eaten (much like George!).

During these visits, I'd get to see everything she'd done to the house. Things like concrete-ing in a flower bed at the front of the house and "planting" plastic flowers. Or the new driveway (which was essentially a layer of concrete over the old, buckled one. Oddly enough, the new driveway has buckled in the same places!). Or the lovely deck off the back porch, highlighted by nails protruding up through the railing, either to keep ne'er-do-wells from storming the deck or to allow plastic ivy to be strung along and through it for that quaint, ivy-covered look. And this is to say nothing of all the decorating and re-decorating that went on inside the house, including the bedroom that was magnolia everything, the mural along the hallway wall that was done or re-done several times, and all kinds of pale green hues in the kitchen.



A few verbal exchanges might illustrate where Diane was in her, umm, thinking. Before George's death, Diane and George were visiting my parent's house one Christmas day. This was when Oliver Stone was shooting his greatest work of fiction, JFK, in Dallas. As my brother Bob resides in Dallas and witnessed some of the shooting (the movie, not the assasination), he mentioned it in a desperate attempt to make conversation with Diane. Midway through it, Diane blurts out, "Who plays Jackie?" Bob replied that those roles were secondary to the plot of the movie and that a no-name actress played the role. Diane stared blankly at Bob for a second and replied, "Who plays Jackie?"

More recently, Diane calls and without saying hello asks, "Bill do you know John Paul?" The Pope? I have no clue who she's talking about and she then says, "John Paul from The Bachelor." Apparently one of the contestants from a season of The Bachelor went to the same high school I did. So I then have to explain that, gee Diane, he's in his 20's and I'm 40, so you know we really weren't at McGuinness at the same time. Her response? "So you don't know him?"

After his appearance on The Bachelor, John Paul Merritt returned to OKC and leveraged some of his celebrity to get involved with a trendy new restaurant in town called Cafe Nova. Shortly after it's opening, Diane calls and, again without saying hello, asks "Bill have you been to Cafe Nova? They have valet parking." Ahem......

Finally there were the gifts. After we got married, for every occasion, birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, etc. Diane brought gifts. She bought off our wedding registry for two years, then moved on to other, less useful items. I mean, what 40 year old man doesn't want pirate wind chimes? Or, reflecting my love of football, of course I needed the set of four cake spreaders with little black football players forming the handles. And just so I wouldn't lose track of the set, it also came with a base that looked like half of a football with slots to store the spreaders, and the word "Football" on the front. Regardless, we appreciated that she always thought of us...

Who is Aunt Diane?

Please be advised that what you're about to read is essentially me venting. In it, I may come across as mean, cruel, thoughtless, cold, morbid, and arrogant. And frankly, I am all those things! As far as Aunt Diane is concerned she is a sweet lady who, from what I know, has led a lonely, sad life. However, her encouragement of my Uncle's drinking, her lack of anything intelligent to say ever, her gravelly voice, her bad taste in everything, and her chain smoking without regard for anyone else's smoke tolerance has turned her into the Aunt with a mustache that you invite to things only out of pity and obligation. And hence, amongst my cousins and siblings, she has become a bit of a punchline.

So with that in mind, please read on!

To know Aunt Diane, you must first know Uncle George...

Uncle George was my Mom's younger brother and the first born son in an Irish family. Born in 1922, George grew to be quite the man about town in his day. He served in World War II and was a good looking guy, at least based on some of the pics I've seen. He was always the swinging bachelor who could cut quite a rug and the story goes that my Father and some of the other brothers-in-law had offered him $1000 when he got married, which was a decent amount back then. However, George was apparently too much man to settle down with just one woman.

As I grew to know him in his 50's and 60's, George still lived with my grandparents when he wasn't travelling for his job, which I was never able to define save for selling specialty crap to small town banks. I'd usually see George at holidays, July 4th picnics, and various other family occasions. If he didn't bring a date to one of the events, he could usually be found passed out in a chair towards the end of the festivities with his head back and mouth ajar, often seated across from Papaw, who would also be asleep. Of course, Papaw was old and it was time for his nap. George, however, was simply a drunk.

Over the years, George brought many different dates to the various family events. Most of the women were lovely, intelligent, and vivacious ladies with great personalities. Then there was Diane. Maybe the best way to describe Diane is to quote my sister, who said, "Diane is perhaps the most depressing person I've ever met."

As the years passed, George's alcoholism worsened and the only woman desperate enough to stick by him was Diane. Of course, she did this by providing George scotch and a place to stay when he ostensibly went "out on the road." Mamaw disliked Diane immensely and, after Papaw's death, George responded to the responsiblity of taking care of Mamaw by spending even more time on the road working or shacked up at Diane's. I witnessed this myself one day when, while hitting a bucket of balls at the golf course driving range when I was supposed to be at church, I looked down the line to see George come strolling in with Diane loping along depressingly behind him with one of George's golf shoes in each hand. Of course, he was alledgedly out of town on this particular weekend. It was during this time that I adopted my own "Don't ask, don't tell" policy, long before it became a military standard.

It was in these years that George would bring Mamaw over for holidays, usually showing up soused, and slur something about sending him home with a plate of leftovers for someone less fortunate. That person was Diane who, though she had brothers in Tulsa, apparently had little to do with them and vice versa. To me, her desire to spend time with George spoke volumes about her loneliness and desperation to have anyone, even a stumbling drunk, in her life.

By the time of Mamaw's passing, Diane had essentially already moved in with George (who, by the way, now inherited my Grandparents house, having never paid a dime in rent or mortgage payments anywhere in his life). I remember looking at him during the rosary and funeral and thinking that, (1) Geez he's even drunk for his own mother's funeral and (2) Even with Diane around, he looked lonely and lost.

With Mamaw gone and Diane moved in, suddenly they were a couple and my parents and aunts and uncles were compelled to invite them to various family gatherings and, even though we saw more of her, Diane still had little to say and even less to contribute to any conversation. In 1992, they finally announced they were getting married. To this day I've always wondered if George would never marry Diane before then because of Mamaw's dislike of her, because the first born Irish son's heart belonged to Mom and he would never marry while she was alive, or if he used his duty to care for Mamaw as an excuse to hold off Diane and remain a swinging single guy. I also wonder if by then, he was just too drunk to say no to her desire to get married. Finally, I wondered if his marriage proposal went something along the lines of, "Marry me baby and we'll make beautiful mucus together."

What followed was perhaps the ugliest wedding I've ever seen. Unfortunately, the night before I went to a pay-per-view boxing match party and missed the rehearsal dinner at the always swanky Hometown Buffet. Then, the morning of the wedding, I attended the funeral of a friend. So it was with a huge hangover and a heavy heart that I witnessed the first marriage for both the 70 year old, chain smoking alcoholic groom and his 56 year old, mustachioed, shaped-like-a-boxcar bride. The image of said bride pulling up her wedding gown to remove her garter and fire it to the waiting bachelors (me included) will be burned in my brain until the day I die!

Aside from their travels, from what I could tell, George and Diane shared a love of alcohol and smoking...and not much else. If there was a place to sit in their home, you could bet there was a large ash tray filled to the brim with butts right next to it. This included the toilets!

As if their wedding wasn't enough, George and Diane started having incredibly depressing, ugly parties. I got roped into bartending the first. I arrived to find a bottle of good scotch, Jack Daniels green label bourbon, and off, off brand everything else at the bar and almost no food to speak of. My most vivid memory of this party is walking into one of the bedrooms to say hello to my cousin Mark, his wife Deanna, and their newborn son Raymond. As they had shut themselves in there to escape the overwhelming smoke, I walk in to to see Diane staring at the baby and asking inane questions. Here, Diane showed her inmmense social grace when, curious about Raymond's infant acne, she asked (in her delicate, yet phlegmy and gravelly voice hewn from apparently being a smoker since the age of two), "What's wrong with his face?"

A couple years later, another George and Diane party came along. This one was in March to celebrate George's birthday. As Diane seemingly worshipped George, she took a hideous picture of the alcoholic, chain smoking George to Kinko's and had them drop his head onto a cartoon baseball player's body for the combination St. Patty's Day/George's birthday party invitation... Oh yeah, the invite to this party (which was to be held the second weekend of March) arrived the day after Christmas!

I figured I would ditch this party but, for whatever reasons, almost all my out of town Aunts and Uncles decided to come in for this soiree. So, in order to see them, I had to go to this damn thing.

Arriving fashionably late, I missed being "piped" in by the bagpiper they'd hired to do just that (guess he was on a smoke break). Go in and say hello to all the relatives and grab a beer. This time there was plenty of food (thanks to my Mom who'd advised Diane that, oddly enough, some people like more than just booze at parties). As I look around, I see what appear to be shamrock shaped sugar cookies on several people's plates. I think to myself, "Yum, I like sugar cookies!" (As a side note, I also recall thinking to myself, "Yum! Cookies and beer!") Making my way around the table, I come to the sugar cookies and eagerly put one on my plate. However, when I pick it up, it's not a cookie at all. Rather, it is some form of cheese colored green and shaped into a shamrock. Having touched it, I couldn't put it back on the platter, so I put it on my plate and coyly ditched it when I was done. As I looked around, it was only then I noticed that everyone else seemed to have untouched shamrocks on their plate too.

A few days later, my sister and cousin came to visit and stayed at my parents' house. As Diane spent most of her time decorating and redecorating the house (usually in tones of puke green), she immediately invited them over to see everything she'd done. My sister thoughtfully volunteered me to drive them over there. As she led the tour through the house, Diane asked the girls if they were hungry. Politely replying yes, Diane reached into the fridge, pulled out a green trash bag, and held it open for them. They each dutifully pulled out a cheese shamrock! The look of terror on my cousin's face as she pulled out that nasty thing is another image I will carry with me to my grave! Waiting till Diane's back was turned, they both pleadingly mouthed "Get rid of these!" while handing them to me to dispose of!

As the years of smoke and booze started to catch up to George, Diane had to learn how to drive...at age 63! That's right, she retired from her state job as a key punch operator having never learned how to drive!

George did eventually die while hospitalized on January 2, 1999. Of course, where was Diane while her husband was in the hospital? In Georgia visiting friends, apparently not realizing that you can actually cancel reservations!!!!!!!!! Instead it was my parents (both then pushing 80) who got the call in the middle of the night to go be with George in his dying hours. (You'll see that this was actually a bit of foreshadowing later on!)