My aunt Dawn passed away last Wednesday – suddenly, unexpectedly, but painlessly – while undergoing a heart procedure. The memorial was held in south Los Angeles on Saturday. When I first heard the news, I waffled for a moment about attending, since I didn’t know Aunt Dawn all that well. She was my mom’s brother’s second wife, who I saw maybe twice a year growing up at family events. But I changed my mind, made the drive down. So glad I did. In that hour long service, I learned more about my aunt and the rest of my family than I have in the past 20 years.

Now I know that my aunt Dawn was high school valedictorian back in Virginia in 1953, as well as yearbook editor, and that she had classmates with nicknames like “Flea” and “Bud.”

Now I know the name of the long skinny brown cigarettes she always smoked: Mores.

Now I know she loved Hank Williams Sr. (the only Hank who mattered, goddammitt!!) and had an 8-track of his greatest hits. That’s right. An 8-track.

Now I know my Uncle Harold and Aunt Monica, who I haven’t seen in twenty years, are far more interesting than I ever knew. I just thought of them as the people who first introduced me to Yoplait yogurt on the beach one day way back when. Turns out they’re both pastors at a non-denominational Christian church (I know, I don’t get it, either) and have recently been on charity missions to Darfur. They could feel the concussions from mortars exploding nearby.

A Muslim chief asked Uncle Harold to meet with him, so he could better understand the people he hated. Uncle Harold obliged him.

Now I know my Uncle Raymond, who married aunt Dawn in 1969, was having an affair with her at the time. Aunt Dawn was the Other Woman, and things got a bit awkward when the whole thing broke open. Aunt Dawn was Uncle Raymond’s neighbor. She would ask him to come over and fix stuff around the house. I will try not to make jokes about him repairing her plumbing. Uncle Raymond and his first wife lived four doors down. After he married the Other Woman, he would see his ex’s house, and often his ex herself, as he came home from work. Instead of going into his old house, though, Uncle Manny went into his new one, four doors down.

Now I know that my favorite uncle, Uncle Manny, uses a cane made from a buffalo’s penis.

It says so right on the cane, on an engraved little plaque. Embedded in the cane is a buffalo head nickel from 1938, the year my Uncle Manny was born. The handle is a brass buffalo head. Gotta give the craftsman credit for following through on the theme. In case you’re curious, the penis looks just like a gnarled branch of wood. Put enough shellack on anything and I guess that’s what happens.

Now I know my cousin Carla is separating from her husband of six years, and they’re in the middle of working out the custody arrangement for their twins. But she hasn’t announced this to her mother, my aunt Viv, yet.

Now I know Aunt Dawn was Block Captain of her Neighborhood Safety Watch, and that neighbors called her “Miss Dawn.”

Now I know that Aunt Dawn had friends like Yvonne, who wore a light purple dress and matching wide brimmed hat to the service, and sang “You Are The Wind Beneath My Wings” at full volume with much gusto and little polish.

So, next time you’re invited to a relative’s funeral, GO.