Family
Okay...there's a lot to write about family from my visit, but I'm just going to talk about my unusual visit with my former stepmother.

We haven't talked much over the years except now and then. She was the one who told me about my sister when I was in Montana for a visit back when I was 20. But that's another story, I suppose.

Anyway, we had a bit of time to catch up at my brother's wedding and I had planned to stop by on my way to Montana to see her and her kids, maybe stay the night. I never could reach her - I had the wrong number, it turned out - but she called me while I was on the road. She said, "What are you doing?" I told her that I just passed through Spokane, and why couldn't she call me sooner? "Where are you?" she asked. I looked around. "Uh...Post Falls?" "Turn around! Come see me!" So that's what I did.

My stepmother lives on the west side of Spokane (of course) with her husband, three kids, and a number of pets, including at least one wolf. When I arrived, the husband was sleeping on the couch and her son had friends over hanging out in the back yard. C was very excited to see his "uncle," but I think that he may have cramped his style a little bit.

My stepmother and I sat at the kitchen table with her oldest daughter who has decided she is my sister by default, and we looked at the photos from the wedding, having a good laugh at the bride's mother who was showcasing her rack. There were hardly any of our side of the family, except for some with my dad and brother. Whatever.

So we're having a glass of wine, and out of nowhere my stepmother says, "I want to apologize to you for being so mean to you when you were growing up. I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that at all." I was dumbfounded. She went on to say that she realized how harsh she was with me and she really felt terrible about it. I just didn't know what to say. I told her that even then I knew that she was really hurting and angry with my dad, not with me. Besides, she was nothing compared to my evil first stepmother. She dismissed the comparison, and said it was no excuse and apologized again. It didn't matter that she was suddenly thrust into motherhood with a basically feral child left to my own devices before she arrived. Seriously. I hated bathing, rarely used a hairbrush, and ate with my hands.

I remembered the times when we would sit drinking Rainier beer late at night, listening to music while she would tell me about how my father would never ask her how her day went while Kenny Rankin sang about walking through the silver morning. When I told my stepmother that I had seen him in concert, she was surprised. She said, "That's the guy who sings 'White Bird,' right?" I corrected her. He sang the Beatles' "Blackbird" on the album. "White Bird" was by It's a Beautiful Day, which we also listened to right along with Judy Collins.

She had forgotten the music she loved so much. I went out to my car and grabbed my Kenny Rankin cd so we could revisit that bit of the past, a good part worth sharing. She said, "I had no idea that I had such an impact on you." "See?" I told her. "There's good stuff too."