Uncle John

Did the Kimball walk, then the usual Sunday thing with crossword. During breakfast, it occurred to me that I hadn't spoken to my Cincinnati cousin, Marifran, in some time--certainly five months or so. I told myself to call her soon. Incredibly, fifteen minutes later, the phone rang and it was Marifran. I told her about the foregoing and we laughed about it.
We then proceeded to talk for one hour and forty-five minutes. We naturally discussed our mutual family; my father and hers were brothers and they had six siblings. My Dad, however, was one of the older ones and hers, Edmund, was one of the younger. Marifran's mother was mentally ill and Marifran writes a lot about that disease. We discussed our Uncle John, of whose existence neither of us were aware until we were married adults. My mother told me Uncle John had been confined in Byberry State Hospital for most of his life. When she and my father were engaged, he asked her never to tell any children they had about John. Well, she didn't until long after my father had died. I'll call my brother, Jim, soon. He's 91 and I calculate he's the oldest one in the extended family now. I'll see if he can shed any more light on poor Uncle John.
All this Byrne nostalgia prompted me to look up the blog which I originally named "Uncle Frank's Farm," but then changed to "Domino Lane," for the place where the family farm was in Roxborough, a Philadelphia suburb. Here, I recorded my Uncle Frank's memoirs, along with those of others in the family: http://uncle-franks-farm.blogspot.com/. Readers should read and follow the information at the top.
Other than that, it was an ordinary Sunday around here.