Tomorrow my family is driving to Podunk to attend a funeral. Don’t panic, this is not a funeral of anyone close to me. My great-uncle died, my grandfather’s younger brother. The only time I have a memory of meeting him was at my grandmother’s funeral. 10 years ago. I was a little preoccupied at the time, and much younger (obviously), so I didn’t really care. There were lots of family I didn’t really know at that funeral and after-party, so no one was really a high priority for me.
Nevertheless, going to funerals, even in Podunk, is what you do for family. Even when it’s the strange side of the family, that you’ve seen twice. Maybe three times.
It’s really by the grace of God and my grandfather’s decision to go to college instead of living a migrant worker’s life that made the difference in me not living in Podunk now. My life is vastly different from that of my extended-extended family (I’m talking second cousins and beyond). All because of some good choices by people (my grandfather mainly) who I don’t really know. It’s crazy.
It may be a long drive tomorrow, but ridiculous stories are a guarantee. I probably won’t write about them here, but those of you who know me in real life will get to hear stories. Or if you’re dying to know, send me an email and I’ll write some down.
And the city we’re going isn’t really called Podunk. It just feels like it. And it’s an amusing enough name that I wish it were called Podunk.