Jenifer
In the times I’d spent with my cousin Jenifer in my early years, I don’t remember her smiling a lot - especially in pictures. This picture I took of her at her dad’s gravesite is a favorite because it was spontaneous, and she looks happy. She’s a pretty cool person, and it’s good to see her happy.
I don’t remember when I first met Jenifer. She’s three years older then I am and was raised in Carson City, Nevada. I probably met her when I was about five a The Farm (my grandparents’ house at the left).
She’s the daughter of my Uncle Tim (mom’s brother) and Aunt Bonnie. They have a son, Stephen, who’s only a little younger than me.
I remember getting to know my Uncle Tim when he stayed at my mom’s and my house in Erlanger, Kentucky. He worked for NCR and traveled to our area for training. I remember being nervous and shy around him. He was a grownup, and I didn’t have a lot of experience with grownups.
Uncle Tim (born Stephen Timothy) turned out to be pretty cool. He was the first grownup to treat me like a real person - not just a kid.
Uncle Tim came to visit us several years later. This was after we’d moved to Blue Ash, Ohio. I remember turning 13 the year Tim visited, and I baked a cake with a ton of icing. It was great to have him there to help me celebrate.
I remember we went to the grocery store, and he bought tomatoes, peppers, onions, sour cream and who knows what else, and he made this wonderful concoction that he dipped chips into: salsa. I think it was the most exotic thing I’d tasted up to that point! He also had an evening ritual that I’d never seen: scotch on the rocks. He loved it and even let me try it once. It was AWFUL. I didn’t understand how anyone could consciously ingest the stuff. My thoat hurt and my sinuses were on fire it was so bad. But again, I respected the fact that he treated me like a real person, with real curiosities, and let me make my own mistakes. Uncle Tim was the first grownup who laughed with me and played the all-popular trivia games of the time with me. After he left our house that last time, he left me a gigantic book of trivia with the inscription, “Erin, memorize this!”
Sometime around age 14 or 15, Mom and I visited Carson City for Christmas. It was the first time I’d been away from home for Christmas. I was in my awkward stage (pimples and blue glasses). I had no idea who I was or who I wanted to be. My cousin Jenifer, on the other hand, was the supercool rebel who wore some serious mascara and listened to heavy metal music. My only exposure to that kind of music was seeing Ozzy’s “Shot in the Dark” and Ratt’s “Round and Round” videos on MTV. I noticed that she didn’t show a lot of emotion, except to get frustrated with her parents (as all teenagers could).
The next time I saw Jenifer was in 1988. Uncle Tim had passed away. He’d had a heart attack while hunting with Stephen. Stephen was the one who found his dad, slumped over, clutching his heart. I was devastated.
Jenifer was still the stoic person I’d met, but this time she was sadder. I think she, like I, wished she’d had a chance to get to know her dad better. I think both of us take lessons from him wherever we go: don't take life so seriously; drink the worm; there’s humor everywhere; if you can’t find what you want, make it yourself; live.
Family is everything. Cheers to Uncle Tim for bringing us together.
