title

This was certainly a week that will go down in the memory book as one of the strangest I've participated in.
I had to review previous entry to see where I left off with the wayward nephew. I had told him I would call him the night following the news about second son Dan going back to Iraq because I wanted time for wife Ruth and I to digest this development.

Even so a voice mail gets left for me on the phone which annoys me and I go into my favorite mantra of "Nobody listens to me." If they had Le Femme Nikita would be more highly revered as a cutting edge TV series.

I make him wait til that night when I get a busy signal. As I unleash myself from the retractable hook I keep getting stuck on I make a bad/good decision and try his number again. Still busy. Almost free, take the rest you deserve it. The deathwish my killjoy nature continues to treat as a benign parasite kicks in and I call my sister. In this sense I treat my nephew like my mother. I advise my sister that I made a genuine attempt to contact either person as evidenced by letting phone ring at LEAST 12 times before that blessed sigh of relief and a resumption of what I call a life.

It's Soap time.

Guess which nephew threatened suicide and arson? Was going to burn down the house since it's in Julie's name (his name is mysteriously missing from the morgage papers--hmmmm) so she can't benefit. Oh and by the way kill himself --SO THERE!!

Could this be the same Julie I danced with at her wedding to the most wonderful man in the world and he/she were the light of the world to each other.

Must be time to trip the circuit breaker.

Sister calls police and tries to get Stephen arrested on a mental charge but he's a slick one and can play the responsibile adult when needed so officers have nothing to go on. Then he calls his father and chews on him a bit never dreaming my dove like sister has turned hawk on him. For me this was the last straw.

At about 12:30 pm I take the bull by the horns and call him. The phone rings--my the fire did not hurt the lines good old AT&T they know how to build them.

Even better a live zombie answers. The living dead is about to wish he never dragged me to the longest boring wedding reception it was my curse to attend and get slapped by a whiny drunk to boot for my pains.

I carefully bring to me my favorite holier then thou stance mixed with a huge helping of righteous indignation and let him have it. It helped to recall the teen years of my ungrateful guttersnipes and their misdemeanors and attitudes. In fairness and pride as evil as my kids used to be they clung to their sins like leeches in their defense of the right to be stupid. My nephew keeps circling the barrel while I unload volley after volley until the fish odor is overpowering. He takes the whiny can't help it approach to life.

I told him strongly how personally offended I was by the suicide threat as his grand-mother (my mother) so closely succeeded and I know I'm bent somewhat from it. In fairness to him and probably to her credit my sister never emphasized this unfortunate event in raising the kids where mine were very familiar with it as another reason I rarely graced New York with my shadow in their growing years. He gets a quick history of the Mtpspur madness that lurks in our family and a promise from me that I'll cut him off completely he tries that nonsense again.

The problem as I see it that once you threaten suicide the audience is forever in doubt about each and every single action/reaction from the relationship form that moment onward. You never know (for sure) which reaction will help or go badly and the fear and uncertainty can be killing.

Over the years I've developed for myself the only method that works for me and keeps me kicking. Lay ALL responsibility BACK on the suicider with the proviso that should they wish to do so I can't stop them, wish they wouldn't and refuse to claim their blood on my hands at judgment day. I have enough of that already to account for. Basically I call the emotional blackmail bluff. This is not foolproof but it seems to give them pause. The nephew says he's too cowardly to do it. I point out very nastily that the right amount of alcohol and dead brain cells can work magic under the right conditions. (I relate a true story about booze, knifes and scars (a friend of mine)(I did not tell him about Ruth--he's not worthy of that and no one in the familly reads these though I'll print and notebook the blog for posterity for after I'm gone when the kids curiousity comes to life too late to get the horse's mouth testimony.

Do not use the hardcore approach on the TRULY tender in heart--the result will leave you with nightmares. This is meant for the emotionally manipulating persons.

So basically I spent 30 minutes stripping that miserable pride off of him, casting scorn on his excuses finally telling him something I had never intended to--no--not that I hated his wedding reception--but that I believe so little of what he tells me and spend time thinking about the words NOT said over the last year or so. My drama queen has style--his has poutiness.

Then he makes his final mistake with this grating sentence--"But non-drinkers don't know what it's like for drinking people...." That last bit got another uproar from me--I seriously hadn't had a good rant in years--I felt the blood pumping. I informed him I spent 11 years in a military barracks waking up with alcoholics every day of those years and think I know JUST A BIT about it.

I wind it up with if I didn't care I wouldn't be hollering (and to confess with embarassment indulging some mild profanity--a sure sign I'm line crossing--God can't bless that). He has potential--time to start using it or continue to wallow in his pity party.

I seem to hear a small voice in what I imagine the Countess would sound like reminding me he has no personal power to overcome the alcohol on his own and belatedly shove him to God for guidance. Tell him I'll check back in a week or so and remember to acknowledge he took my lambasting very well--I used to ALWAYS get attitude from Jim and Dan and Sandy once in awhile.

This has gone on a bit. If Kathycf hasn't left me she murmurs "Yes it has". Andave Ya is praying and Grace 86 hasn't got this far (says I write too much).

So: Next--blood pressure news/doctor's visit; a special Hospice visit; and a real death that took place yesterday (Wednesday night/Thursday morning) that is changing my dispatcher friend's life forever and has caused me to rethink the Devil Child a bit.