My uncle robby used to have a pumpkin patch in his backyard. The pumpkins lined the side of the house that enclosed the kitchen and my cousin regina's room. Uncle Robby, Aunt Yvonne (who i had to call "Aunt Be-bon" during the years that I was unable to put the sounds of eeeee and von together) and my cousins Regina and Robert lived in the brown house with the pumpkin patch and pool in their backyard, next door to Nana. I remember drives home from Uncle Robby's in which I would stare out the left right window of our tan station wagon and wonder what my life would be like if Uncle Robby were my father. Uncle Robby was a magician. He was a magician before he was born. Born on Halloween, Nana named him Robert Houdini Barbour, after the one and only "magician of the spirits": Harry Houdini. And so, uncle Robby would spend his childhood perfecting the art of magic and in 30 years would receive a phone call at my very own home from the largest bank in the state requesting his services. "They need me to go break into their safe" he said with a smile, set down his guitar and was out the door and up the hill. It was exciting sitting there in our living room with my 5 aunts and uncles, plus their spouses, plus their children and of course nana eating barbecued pork and watching Uncle Robby break into the safe. Uncle Robby plays the guitar and slightly resembles a werewolf. Many of my family members resemble werewolves, it's all in our teeth. I hate my canine tooth. The tooth that caused me to smile with my mouth closed for years. But when I'm with my family, i smile with my mouth open, i guess that's all that matters. Uncle Robby, who spent a good portion of his life trying to keep my dad sober, picking him up from bars, helping our family out when all of the money was poured into the local tavern, began drinking after my cousin Regina graduated. There was a phone call every other month from Aunt Be-bon. "Rob's drinking". "Rob didn't come home last night". Of course my mom was of good council since she had been through it all with my father. And finally, "Rob and I are getting a divorce". Now the only aunt's and uncles i have that have fought the alcoholism and divorce are uncle jim and aunt Betty who live in Fresno and eat a lot of Italian food. i miss aunt Betty and her typical "aunt-isms": her big orangy-red Italian kiss stains on my cheek that are partly lipstick and partly spaghetti sauce. Uncle Robby has a new girlfriend, her name is Shirley. Shirley is one of the many women who put much effort into resembling trashy teenage girls. Lots of orange make-up, scandalous leather motorcycle outfits, blonde over-permed hair, and an empty laugh. I never knew laughter could be empty until i met Shirley. Now Uncle Robby and Shirley live in Wisconsin for reasons I'm unsure of. I wonder if he's happy. I wonder if my dad's happy. I wonder if anyone in my family is happy. And to be honest, I don't really think anyone is. I think this sadness and empty laughter is hereditary and at times, i feel like it's chasing me. I don't know why a magician who had a pumpkin patch would move to Wisconsin....