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jh
I met his sister when she was turning 18 and already full of herself with haughty air. Intellectually vacant, unattractive always thinking and at times saying how she believed she was better than most. I did not like her but she was his younger sister and our company would be limited to the odd family dinner and celebration. Even in her late 40's she was like a happy child, mentally empty and one who had no real problems. Her joy was conversational dribbles, the happy recipient of praises on her dress, accumulations and food. She was not only indifferent to opinions, she thought them troublesome and often said naively that she just wanted everyone to get along. Turn the conversation to dribble is what she meant.

I'm far from being an intellect nor do I consider myself charismatic. In fact, I'm rather quiet, even shy but when the impulse strikes me to share my inner thoughts and I'm cut off rudely with a nonsensical comment at every encounter, my face may smile though not my heart. The real trouble was I wanted to like her and kept the door open again and again to revise my opinions but it never happened.

When she died at sixty I felt remorse of what may have been. Someone called her a velvet bulldozer at the funeral. Velvet would not have been my word. Her childlike ways, a woman child made her someone you could dislike and avoid but never hate. She was just who she was for no better, no worse. If she wasn't family, I would have given her no thought but she was and therefore the larger part of me loved her.

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