Eskewpades

AUNT LULABELLE BY STEVE ESKEW Aunt Lulabelle died last week. FINALLY! At ease, at ease. Just kidding. The outspoken, adorable dowager would have bellowed a Phyllis Diller cackle at that tired old joke. She gave up the ghost at age 101. A fitting exit number: rumor has it her last words were, “I always did like palindromes.” Confirmed as the family funny lady, she often engaged in outrageous behavior solely to make people laugh. I’m reminded of the time a few years back when I knocked on her door at 8 a.m. We had planned to attend a brunch. “Who’s abusing my door? she yelled. “Your loving, hunky nephew. Are ya ready to go bungee-jumping?” “Very funny. Come in, you middle-aged brat, and try not to make loud noises.” The nonagenarian was lying on the couch in a flaming red evening gown, eyes closed, sporting what she affectionately referred to as her Liza Minnelli eyelashes. Lulabelle had long requested that she be buried wearing that very same re

NARCISSISTIC? WHO? ME? When I was a very young boy, I used to watch the radio.   Yes. Watch. Having not been alive long enough to develop the eccentricities dominating my life now, I was considered a normal radio watcher. Never could figure out why people so intensely eyeballed that big mahogany box that broadcasted their favorite radio programs. I tried coloring during a radio show, but it somehow  distracted me. When I tried turning my back to the box and just listening, my mind began to wander. I was missing  most of the broadcast, so I resumed my fierce ogling at the radio, feeling like an uncertified idiot. As a definitely certified adult, I do not watch TV. Heavens no, that would be sane. I only listen. I tell myself I’m too busy reading or writing to actually watch the boob tube. I reserve my watching talent strictly for the radio. Most of the time I have the TV tuned into news shows. Never watching. Only listening. Until recently I couldn’t resis