Hurles Blood

My father says our family has something he refers to as "Hurles blood".

"Hurles" was my paternal grand-mother's maiden name. Her family was known for it's boisterous behavior. They were a fun bunch, always laughing and joking around. There was never a dull moment when they were together. They were fiercely loyal to the people they loved and didn't take much flack from anybody.

So, whenever my sister Connie or I complained about something hurtful someone had said or done to us, Dad would always say, "What's the matter? Don't you have any Hurles blood?"

That, of course meant we were supposed to either get up, shake it off and laugh about it ... or go kick some butt.

You know, act like a "Hurles".

Of course, even though being born with "Hurles blood" brings with it some responsibility,(like you've got to know how to control it) it is overall a good thing. Although our family members have more than our fair share of sassiness, we also have more fun than most. We can find humor in just about anything.

At 89 years old, Dad's "Hurles blood" still flows strongly thru his veins. His mind comes and goes at times though, and we've noticed lately that the line between real and imaginary has gotten slightly blurred for him.

For instance, last week Dad started asking my sister where his black car was.

A fair question of course, since there was no black car in his garage.

The problem is that as far as we know, Dad does not now, nor has he ever owned a black car. We still can't figure out where the idea of a black car came from, yet Dad has been insistant that he indeed DOES own a black car and now it is missing. He is quite distraught that no one seems interested in helping him find it.

Finally, after almost a week of questioning, Dad was talking on the phone to my sister about it from my niece, Stacia's house.

"I think I loaned my black car to Jug", he commented. ("Jug" is the nickname he gave my nephew Chad)

Connie, jumping on the notion that this could be an opportunity to put the issue to rest once and for all, said. "Yes, that's right Dad. You loaned it to him."

So, Dad asked, "Well why hasn't he brought it back?"

Ugh!

That question sparked the "Hurles blood" in my sister and she replied, "DAD! O.K.! YES! Chad borrowed your black car and wrecked it! It's gone!"

And Dad responded, "Well, where is it?"

"It's in the junk yard ... totalled!"

Dad again: "Which junk yard?."

My sister, "DAD! I don't even know, but it's GONE!"

Dad: "Well then, we need to find out, because I should at least get some insurance money out of it."

Frustrated, Connie gave Dad a straight talk about the condition of his memory. "Remember what I told you before about the black car, Dad?" she asked.

"Yes"

"What did I say about it?."

You said I am only imagining that I had a black car and it never really existed."

"OK Dad, so tell me. Do you have a black car?"

"No. I don't" he said, obviously disappointed at the admission.

"Now give the phone back to Stacia" Connie instructed him.

Doing as he was told, Dad handed the receiver to Stacia, muttering something inaudible in the process.

Stacia's laughter erupted over the line.

"What did he say?" Connie asked her daughter.

"He said to see if I could find out anything about his black car for him."

That's "Hurles blood" for you. Once we've set our minds to something, we don't give in easily.

"Hurles blood" keeps us witty and at times a force to be reckoned with.

Having "Hurles blood" gives us the determination it takes to get what we want out of life ... most of the time.

It's "Hurles blood" that has kept every member of Dad's family very much alive and robust right up to the end of their natural life on earth.

When I look at my own grandchildren, I can see that the "Hurles blood" has not lost an ounce of momentum as it's made it's way through the many generations of Hurles offspring.

My grandparents on Dad's side of the family all passed away before I was born. I never had the privilege of meeting them. But yet I know them just the same.

I grew to love them through knowing my Dad and his sisters. They were a lot like me and my sister, our kids, and now our grandchildren. All fun loving, loud, happy boisterous, strong willed, perserverant. (Alright, yes ..maybe even slightly stubborn ... sometimes downright mule-headed)

We're all good people. We all have Hurles blood. We've surely made Dad very proud!

That should be some consolation to him, considering we never did manage to locate his little black car.