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May 12, 2022: A Big Chunk of Change

Hmm. I got a check for $10,000.00 today. The check wasn’t unexpected although I wasn’t sure of the amount. It was from Robert Schofield Guinan III, otherwise known as Trip. I met this guy once – he was then in the arms of Robert Schofield Guinan II. The check was from the estate of Robert Schofield Guinan I, who to my family was known as Uncle Bob.

Uncle Bob was the oldest of four children – his parents were Alice Schofield and Owen P. Guinan. He lived to be 103. His three sisters were named Barbara, Peggy, and Sarah. Sarah, the youngest of the lot, was my mother.

El and Uncle Bob

Being the oldest, and being male, Robert Schofield I/Uncle Bob was in a position to make money, unlike his sisters, who were just expected to marry and live off their husbands’ incomes, which is what they did.

What I remember: Uncle Bob’s home was in Pittsford, NY. There were signs of affluence. My mother, sister, and I spent time there after my mother and father split up. The place had stucco ceilings and nice furniture. Living there was not, as was living in our lake place, a struggle. My Uncle Bob owned a yacht and sailed it on Lake Ontario. He took my mother, sister, and me on a cruise up the Genesee River to the lower falls.

Uncle Bob and my father did not get along at all. And it enraged my father that Uncle Bob found my mother a good divorce lawyer when they split up and he pay the attorney bills.

Uncle Bob did not like me. I knew this from an early age. When I was young, I was angry and petulant.

When I was older, I was a wise ass. And like my father, I was very cynical. Uncle Bob did like my sister. In fact, everyone liked her. She was always kind, bubbly, and compassionate.

I last saw my Uncle Bob when my mother was dying. He was 98 and flew from Florida to Oregon to spend time with her. When it comes to families, history can’t be erased. It may have been written down on a Big Chief tablet, with a big fat pencil, but no matter, what’s there remains there for all perpetuity.

So we resumed old habits, snarling and growling at one another, just like the good old days. I remember thinking paterfamilias be damned, this man is a blooming idiot. Erase the blooming part. He was just an idiot. My sister may have harbored similar feelings but if so, she did not let on. This is why I think that she’s going to get a big chunk of change from that man.

Both El and I are now on the edge of our seats, waiting to see how much money she’ll get. We are friends (of course) so it really doesn’t matter.

If there is an afterlife, and my Uncle Bob and I meet again, I will of course say thank you for the money. And I will mean it.

Next: 131. 5/13/22: Pain and Anxiety

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