Religion was not a big deal in our house. Mom dragged me and Lindy to mass every Sunday where I sat and muttered under my breath how much I hated
She wanted to become a nun when she was 17 and Dad was an alter boy at his church. Although in the above picture he looks like an alter man. Religion didn't stick on any of us. I left home at 17 and that was the end of all church going activities in our family. Lindy got out of it 2 years earlier THANKS TO ME. Today we can't even sit in a church and listen without eye rolling each other. We wish people got married at bars. Or maybe a nice seafood restaurant down by the beach.
Dad always insisted that his side of the family was Scottish. No Jews.
Our Dad was a notorious pack rat. It took me 3 years to wade through his papers and possessions after he died. I removed this book from the apartment in Florida. It looked old so I figured I should take it. You know, so I could start my own hoarding traditions. The book is called Life of Washington by the Hon. J.T. Headley.
It was published in 1860, the year I was born. Inside is the name Walter Kummerer, neatly and artistically written in black ink. From something called an inkwell, for all you Justin Bieber fans.
After I found the book I asked my mother if she remembered the last name of my grandmother. She replied that it was Kauffman. I said I thought Dad's mom was Scottish but mom insisted on the name Kauffman.
So I went through our family tree and discovered that my great, great, great grandmother was named Kauffman. Her daughter married a Kummerer and their daughter married a Scot.
So my mom was right. Only she got the last name of my grandmother wrong. How did she know the great, great, great grandmother's name but not the immediate grandmother's name?
As everyone who reads me knows by now, I believe in reincarnation. I believe Mom remembered the name because she was part of that family in a former life. There is no other explanation. I'd say she had a great memory but she recently went to Greece and gave me the wrong departure date. And arrival back in Paris date. And then blamed it all on me.
When I was 5 years old I used to say that I wanted to go to California to see Cindy and Cincy. My parents always asked me who they were and I would always reply: Cindy and Cincy. Like my parents were the two dumbest people in the world.
While my Dad was alive I looked over our family tree one evening and discovered that a woman named Cinzie, real name Christina, had been in our family and died in the early 1900's. I clearly met her on the other side. Because who in the hell ever heard of someone named Cinzie?
I dedicate this Friday's Bite Me post to organized religion because I never knew I was part Jewish and I'm sure it's the Pope's fault.
End of chat.
