Our lexicon got hit by an asteroid in the summer of 2022. After the release of the TV show The Bear, the swift and hierarchical “Yes, chef” broke out of the professional kitchen and found its way into any situation related to food. Chop an onion? Yes, chef. Stir the soup? Yes, chef. Hand me a beer? Yes, chef.
But aside from this professional turned playful address, there is another iconic piece of vocabulary in this show that I want to focus on – cousin.
The characters Carmie and Richie, played by Jeremy Allen White and Ebon Moss-Bachrach (in an impressive display of thin lips in the year 2024), have a relationship that’s quite…tense. They don’t have any blood relation, but their histories are deeply intertwined. And across every interaction, they address each other as “cousin.”
They grew up together, but they’re not siblings. I wouldn’t call them friends. Colleagues also isn’t right. They are, well, cousins. Although these two characters are perpetually at each other’s throats, each time they call each other “cousin” serves as a recognition for the role they play in each other's lives–the level of importance they hold. I hate you right now, but I’ll love you through it.
Another classic set of pop culture cousins are Will Smith and Carlton Banks on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. In this instance, they are family tree cousins. They share grandparents. Will’s aunt is Carlton’s mom. And, since this is a sitcom, unlike Carmie and Richie, they are polar opposites. Preppy and conservative Carlton serves as the main foil to infallibly cool Will when he moves in with his rich aunt and uncle.
The dynamic between Will and Carlton was the heart of the show. And in a smart move of screenwriting, Carlton didn’t exist just as a punchline. He was a complex character with his own journey of growth, an ability to challenge the protagonist, and an iconic dance move. Their relationship was everything. Eventually, inevitably, the two become close friends.
I’ve got my own set of cousins, spanning coast to coast, north to south. Those with which I share grandparents and those that I don’t. I don’t live near any of them now, but the simple fact of having known each other from when we were mainlining our business into a diaper to watching them marry the love of their life is a meaningful one.
I think that’s why we use “cousin” to describe more than our parent’s sibling’s children. Because that dictionary definition has an implied meaning of importance that goes unsaid. A meaning that’s hard to describe efficiently using any other words. Effectively, it’s evolved into a term of endearment.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the meaning of cousins because a few months ago I lost my cousin Stephen. A thoughtful, curious, creative soul I’ve known before I could walk.
When I found out I didn’t know what to do. Physically, I didn’t know what to do with my arms and legs. I didn’t want to sit down and I couldn’t stand still so I just paced my apartment for a couple hours. At 450 sq ft, I made a lot of laps.
I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Gathering with my family in Texas was right. Other than that, I don’t know if there is a “supposed.” You just, do.
A couple weeks later was the Mexican holiday Dia de Los Muertos, a two day holiday that reunites the living and the dead. To celebrate, tradition dictates building an altar, an “ofrenda,” filled with offerings of the favorite foods and beverages as well as photos and memorabilia of the departed. These ofrendas are decorated with bright marigold flowers, and families will lay a trail of petals leading from outside into the house and up to the altar, encouraging the souls of loved ones to visit. Mourning is exchanged for celebration.
Hanging in my living room I have a photo from a series by photographer (and my boyfriend, hey) Jordan Cramer. Last year, he took a trip with his mom and sister to visit family in Mexico for the first time for Dia de Los Muertos. The photograph I have from the series shows a path of marigold petals leading from outside into the family’s home.
So on November 2nd, I was sitting on my couch looking at that photo and a vase of marigolds I happened to have on my coffee table — and I knew what to do.
In honor of Stephen’s daily routine, I took a walk to Starbucks for a coffee. I brought it home and parked myself by the marigolds as I sipped and thought about Stephen’s kindness and the creativity that we shared. How he always asked me about my writing and could provide interesting historical insight on demand about whatever project I was working on. I thought about how we dove for coins in the summers at the pool by my grandparent’s house and danced together at my sister’s wedding.
And so, after all this ruminating, of the role of cousins in our lives and how our use of language has evolved, the best thing I can think to say is–
Rest in peace, cousin. <3