I'll never be called Robby again.

My Aunt Jeanie died today.

Many of you who check this website didn't know her, but she was a profound influence on my life, and on my family's lives. She wasn't a blood relation to me; she was a friend of my parents that has known me since before I was born. In my mind and heart, she was (and is) my aunt. She was family.

I got the call at about 10:00am Central time. Aunt Jeanie had suffered a heart attack and died at 6:00am PST. In the past few weeks, my Aunt Jeanie had found herself a "gentleman friend" and according to my mom, was happy. I'm glad for that.

I always looked forward to our visits to her home in Carson City, Nevada for a couple of reasons. First, because of my cool 'cousin' Dawn, who had a comic book collection that I always wanted to pour through, even though they were the same comics each time. Dawn thought they were neat, thus so did I. Second, because my Aunt Jeanie and Uncle Murph lived on a plot of land that my sisters and I used to wander through looking for Indian Arrowheads. Third, it was a home away from home and a place of stability, as my family moved around a lot when I was a kid (my father worked for United Airlines and got transferred from airport to airport until he built up enough seniority to stay put). Wherever we moved to, Aunt Jeanie's House was always there. True, the house had that peculiar odor that develops when the occupant chain smokes, but I loved the place anyway.

Aunt Jeanie also checked this website. A lot. I mean, a lot. When I mentioned that I had to take my website down because my monitor at the time stopped displaying the red portion of the spectrum, she sent me a new monitor, larger than my previous one, with a note that read something to the effect of "Consider this 10 year's worth of missed birthday presents." She didn't have to do it, I didn't ask her to do it, she just did it.

She was also the only person on the face of the earth allowed to call me Robby. When I was a piece-of-crap teenager, I asked her to stop calling me that, that my name was Robert. She did, but in later years, I felt as though I had taken something from her. About 10 years ago, I told her she could call me Robby again, but the damage had been done.

My Aunt Jeanie also had an offbeat sensibility that I think helped mold my own perceptions of the world. She had a great sense of humor and was fiercely loyal. She was my Aunt Jeanie and I loved her very much. Still do.

If you love someone and you haven't told them, do so today. Don't hint at it, or figure "well, they know" or think that your actions alone should be enough. They may not know, or may not be certain. Don't take that chance.

Take care,
~Rob