I Talked With

my sisters today because they hadn't heard from me in a couple of weeks. One of my sisters had some news to tell me. Her grandson, the one who has been married twice and is just 24 years old and is about to become a daddy in September, is going to get married on the 27th of this month. Instead of getting married in an exotic place like Lake Tahoe (as in the first marriage) or at Lithia Park (as in the second marriage), he will be getting married at city hall in Salem, Oregon. My sister said his mom and dad won't be able to make it; in fact, nobody on his side of the family will make it except for her.

Well, maybe the third time's a charm, but call me a skeptic with his track record.

The baby, by the way is a girl. Both he and his girlfriend have decided on a name: Madison James Hillman.

My response to this was: "What the hell kind of name is THAT? Why don't they name her Dolly Madison or Madison Dolly? What's so special about James Madison, besides the fact he was one of our founding fathers?" My sister said it was probably they went through a baby book, and "Madison" is a fairly popular name these days for girls. But the "James" shit I can't figure out. I hope the couple will change their minds about the name.

The name could have been worse, I said. She could be named "Bush George."

And then my niece told my sister (her mother) some interesting numerology to note: Elven married his first wife on October 27, he married his second wife on August 27, and now he is about to marry his third wife on April 27.

Oh, oh. I am not making any bets on how long this relationship will last, baby or no baby.

In somewhat related news, my other sister, the one I am going to Italy with this summer, was walking her dog the other day. It was so cold outside Pat had to put the hood of her jacket on. Well, my niece's ex-husband drove by and then he stopped to talk to Pat. He asked, "Do I know you?" Pat then took off her hood, and Dennis (his name) then said, realizing who she was, "I didn't recognize you with your clothes on."

Pat is 70 years old, Dennis is about 50 and has a 12-year-old son from his second marriage. Pat about split a gut with that response, and so did Dennis, once he realized he put his foot in his mouth.

Anyway, I have to make note of these important events, just in case I want to share them with Reader's Digest or some damned rag.