The Women of The Kendrick Phyla

I have two sisters, Karol and Kathy who are lovely, kind, generous women…both as spiritual and good as the day is long.

They are also pains in my ass.

Kathy and Karol have been bugging me to include not only more of them in these posts, but more things about our insanity addled family. It goes without saying, this would be a huge mistake.

What you are about to read are almost completely fake, made-up transcripts of several e-mails sent back and forth from my home in Houston to a small berg in the Texas Hill Country where my MUCH, MUCH, MUCH OLDER sisters were together over the recent holidays.

(The part about my sisters being MUCH, MUCH older? That’s COMPLETELY true!)



We think that your readers want more stories that focus on the oddness of our family. Your life experiences alone make great fodder. For example, your hilarious story from the summer of 2007,  “The Hamper” was based on a true story. We know for a fact that was one of your most read posts, so in these days of supply and demand, Kathy and I think you should supply your readers with what they don’t even know they want.

Real demand will come later.

And write more about us, your loving sisters, you Bitch!


Kathy and Karol


Dear Kathy and Karol,

You must have mistaken me for someone else.

I don’t have any sisters. I’m an only child. My mother’s uterus only had womb for one and I hand-printed the “occupado” sign on that “door” more than 48 years ago.

Please refrain from sending further correspondence because frankly, I don’t like the way your names look on my computer.


Laurie Kendrick


Well Laurie,

Is that so? Not related you say? If we weren’t related to you, then how would we know about the fact that you used to take movie soundtrack albums and sing and dance to them in our foyer? And furthermore, Butch, you even sang the Christopher Plummer parts in “The Sound of Music”.

Why is it then that we know that for three months in 1964, you thought you were a dog and would bark once for yes, twice for no and demanded that you eat dinner from a china bowl on the floor? Ring any bells there, Nutcake?

It’s true. We know even more stuff too. More revealing comments will be left on this blog and they will spill other sordid details about your very sordidly strange life IF you don’t write more stories that feature us!

Don’t be stupid, Laurie–give in to our demands or pay the price. Don’t look at this as extortion…we prefer to call it blackmail.

By the way, since you’re the youngest, we’ve never really liked you.

Kathy & Karol


To Whom It May Concern;

Once again, you are mistaken.

Yes it is true—I am Laurie Kendrick, but obviously NOT the Laurie Kendrick you have in mind. We’re not related.

You see, I had a rather unorthodox upbringing . It was, I’m sure far, far different than what you two experienced. You grew up in relative normalcy—my storied childhood was one of mythic proportions!

Initially, I was the daughter of Brandy, an unmarried bar maid, who lived in a harbor town where she worked, laying whiskey down. When my mother learned she was with child, she begged my sea-faring father to marry her, but he told her no.

He made it clear he couldn’t stay…no harbor was his home

The sailor said, “Brandy, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be. But my love, my life and my lady, is the sea. Dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee”.

Ashamed to be unwed and pregnant, she left her small coastal hometown and moved into the sparsely populated Highlands to wait out her pregnancy and ultimately, give birth.

Nine months later, all alone on a dark and stormy night in a small, thatch roofed, dirt floored lean-to in the forest, she delivered a fine, seven-pound-five-ounce baby girl…..


But she had no way to support me, so ever the artistic, dexterous and enterprising woman, she fashioned a basket out of leaves and twigs, placed me inside and sent the basket adrift on a nearby stream with the hopes someone would find me and like Moses, take me into their bosom.

Or in my case…their teat.

You see, I was found two days later by a mother wolf, out on her daily constitutional. As luck would have it, this wolf mother was particularly fond of hominids and had been raising three young boys whom she found in similar circumstances. They would become my brothers. You might have heard of two of them…Romulus and Remus?


They were wonderful boys. Momma Wolf suckled them for the first four years of their lives. She was a wonderful mother. She instilled in them values and ethics. So much so that Romulus went on to discover Rome. The city was named after him actually.

Remus grew up to become an old black man and a fictional literary figure in the Old South, “Uncle Remus, His Songs and His Sayings: The Folk-Lore of the Old Plantation”

My other brother while successful in his own right, is lesser known. His name is Trent and he was an odd child. Different. Soft-spoken, kind of shy. Impeccable dresser. Fastidious, loved clothing, interior design, watching reruns of “Golden Girls” and reading “Crate and Barrel” catalogs. For some reason, he just clicked–I mean, really “connected” with my confirmed bachelor wolf uncle, Bruce who allowed Trent to “suckle” him for the first 36 years of Trent’s life.

Long story short, Trent went on to discover San Francisco.

Good luck in your journey to find your sister, but I assure you, I am not her!




  1. Mother couldn’t have spaced our births better had I had planned them myself. Each of us are almost 4 years apart: Kathy and me-3 years, 7 months. You and me-3 years, 10 months. Kathy and I always played together and went to Mama K’s (grandmother) together when she and daddy went out of town. Why did you have to go to Nannie’s (other grandmother) house? We thought you were a little pest who threw up at every birthday party we had.

    I always wondered what it would have been like had you been a boy. Guess we will never know.

    Oh well.

  2. Long story short, huh? Two words: con fabulation!

    My GOD Kendrick! You are an hilarious writer. Yup. And I don’t use the word “an” frivolously let me tell you!

    I’d heard of that long lost 3rd wolf-teat sucking brother, in ancient stories of yesteryear. Lost in the mists of time in memorium. Trent. Gay as the other 2 I imagine?

    And your sisters! Sheesh! What is their problem? Why don’t they get their own blogs??

  3. Yes David, I’m well aware of the definition of confabulation.

    Sweetie, you’re new to my blog but I already know that you’re getting hip to the fact that EVERYTHING I write is a veritable confabulation, at times infused and imbued with a few grains of truth…something akin to literary sorbet.

    I write a lot of satire. I’ll write a whole story around a punchline I hear. I’ll write a whole story about someone in the check-out line at the grocery store who had the temerity to have odd looking toes. I don’t know them at all, but I do in my story. I love that kind of challenge like giving life to a joke and when applicable, I like making a little joke out of life.

    It’s what I do when when I’m bored and since I’ve been unemployed, I’m bored quite often.

    But seriously Dave, I thank you for “getting” my stuff. Based on some of the comments, I feel certain that my wit is generally accepted by everyone who reads this blog.

    That’s OK. Vive le différence.


  4. I have no problem with this David, however, when rude comments are made towards us, as you called them, our talons come out. Watch your wording, Dave.

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