I Am Certifiably Nuts!

Okay...so here it is another 90-degree day in Central Indiana, and I have a casserole in the oven. THE OVEN! Oven...as in that little box that heats up the whole kitchen. I found some leftover turkey in the freezer and figured that I should use it up, so I made a tetrazinni. It will taste good, as soon as I stop sweating... Crazy!

Since the early 1970s, I have been in possession of the Civil War diary of my great-great-grandfather. My grandmother had given it to her son (my Uncle Bud, who was a career Army officer and a Civil War buff), and he gave it to me so I could transcribe it and research it for the family. I always had a sense that it was on semi-permanent loan, but it was never mentioned again, so I kept it. Uncle Bud has long since passed away, but his daughter (my cousin Sally with whom I have only recently reconnected on Facebook) inquired about the diary a couple of months ago. She said, in a very nice way, that she thought her father wanted his eldest grandson to have the diary. I gulped because I knew that was most likely true. I have had the pleasure of possessing the diary for several decades now, but I was reaching the point of deciding to donate it to a museum in Illinois so it would not simply decay in a brief case in my home. But it wasn't mine to have! Thus, with trembling hands, I packed up the little book and sent it to Sally's son in Los Angeles, with love. It arrived safely yesterday. Were I a more selfish person, I could have resisted giving it up, but it was the right thing to do. Am I nuts? Maybe. But the diary was scanned and evaluated enough for me to be satisfied that I haven't really given up anything but the physical manifestation of my ancestor. I have enough other little goodies to share with my own grandchildren, when they are ready.

I digress here, but I have another piece of furniture that isn't really mine. My grandmother had a curved-glass china cabinet that somehow my mother decided my brother Doug should have after her demise. Mom died before Dad, so it remained at the farm where it had been forever...then, when Dad died and Doug had no use for it, I spent a weekend and a bunch of $$ to retrieve it. (It barely survived the trip to Plainfield.) Doug told me it was on semi-permanent loan to me. I took that to mean he would get it if/when he wanted it. Then Doug got sideways with his sisters when we outvoted him on selling the family farm. At that time, I made certain that I let the attorney know that I had the cabinet that was his and would give it up at any time he demanded it and could make arrangements to get it. The farm was sold. Doug no longer spoke to his sisters. And then he died, suddenly. Is the cabinet mine now? Perhaps...but Doug had a daughter that was given up for adoption at birth. I have met her and believe that she should have it when I croak. I mean, if he had taken it, she would most likely have gotten it, anyway. I just always want things to stay in the family, you know? Am I crazy?

I have some business to attend to, but I always put it off. What's wrong with me?? The answer? I'm nuts!