Accidents of Birth can be annoying.

Something many of you may not know is that I come from a long line of Catholics, and, indeed, according to the Church (and some of my family) I am still one of them.

Most of my family (outside those local to Sacramento) are still staunchly Catholic -- tradition is a very strong motivator for Portuguese, after all, and the Holy See is quite strong in Portugal and, more specifically, on Sao Jorge, where that part of my family comes from.

One of the weirder funerary practices among Catholics is The Rosary. Imagine saying all those Hail Marys, with liberal sprinklings of Our Fathers. Oi!

The practical upshot of all this is that this Wednesday, I will not be enjoying Angel with the rest of my local friends. No, I will be in Gilroy, reciting the Rosary as best I can remember it. And I not only don't own a Rosary, but I've largely forgotten the prayers. Guess I'll be sitting silent for the first few.

You see, my grand-uncle Bill decided last friday that 92 years on this planet was just about enough. My aunt doesn't want to go to the funeral itself (which I would do on my own if I could), so we're going to the Rosary only.

Interestingly, the Rosary will be the first time in years since I've seen Patty, Bill's daughter. And Patty is technically my godmother, which is odd considering my mother didn't like her at all.

I foresee many more stupid questions like "Where's your mother?", which is what I got at Bill's wife Dell's funeral a few years ago. Many of these people forget she's been dead for twenty-seven years.

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