No, nobody died.

My elderly aunt -- who is the youngest and only remaining member of my father's generation, his little sister -- said something in an email that indicated that she, treasured and pampered last child, did not know the full story about her father's travels around the world. I grew up hearing stories of Grampa's travels from Dad and from his brother; I know all the details about what it was like to sail in a four-masted barque from Bremen to Cape Town to Sydney through the Straits of Magellan (in winter!) to Rio de Janiero to Genoa, a two-year voyage.

She took my offer as an insult; of course she'd been told everything (her version was "Nobody can know what happened."). And called me a liar, and worse. She said I was making it all up, or Dad had invented it, because nobody who wasn't there could know. (This is the woman who had a free ride to Purdue but dropped out after 1 semester because she couldn't be that far away from her mother. She has no idea about studying anything, let alone history, or about research. I'm amazed she got out of high school.)

I let out some of the head of steam this built in me (that has always been the worst insult for me, as a writer and journalist). Then I told her I was not a liar, nor did I invent family history. All that I knew had been verified not only by my father but by one of his brothers, and was truth. It was known, just not to her. All the family stories were softened when they were told to the baby of the family.

And just as I wasn't around in the 30s, she wasn't around at the turn of the century when Grandpa was on that trip.

She had also called me by my birth name, which is now an insult in the world; who wants to be a Karen these days? I told her my name has been Kit for more than 50 years, and signed the note that way.

I have never been one of her cherished nieces; they got all the attention long before I was born, and by the time I came around she had no room for anyone else.

So, if I am lucky, she will no longer leave snarky notes in my FB comment if I mention family history on that side of the family. She cannot put me 'in my place' as she sees it; I am far and away out of her range.

It is more of a relief than anything else, the thought that I probably will not have to deal with her. And, as I said in the header, I still have a cousin on that side of the family whom I get along with well, and several on the other side. None of them within 400 miles or so, but that's how it goes.

I do miss the departed members of that generation, that family, ones who accepted me as I am, who listened and to whom I listened, and who I know loved me. They're gone, but never forgotten.