One of my Cousin Kat’s best friends was Don Waters who ran the funeral home. She needed to go to Mason City to see her eye doctor when Don mentioned he had to make the trip to pick up a body at the airport. Cousin Kat was tight as Dick’s hatband and not a bit squeamish about a little thing like riding with a body. Turns ou it was Mabel Peter’s Who she’d ridden to work with for over twenty years. Surely Mabel, dead would be less Continue reading
humor
Cousin Mavis and the Heartbroken Philanderer
Many years ago, I had a Cousin Mavis, who’d inherited a really nice farm, together with her brother Beau, in an idyllic mountain valley. She married Lloyd who greatly admired her farm. They had a daughter, Sally. Mavis quickly took issue with her husband’s carousing and tossed him out. Quite willing and able to take care of herself, she continued to live happily on her farm with her brother Beau and Sally. Beau did the majority of the farm work while Mavis taught school and kept the house running, The three of them had a good life together, bumping along quite satisfactorily. Beau never married though he was happy to keep company with a widow lady, saying, “No house was big enough for two women.” In truth, I’m sure he felt he already had a wonderful homemaker who shared his expenses, a doting niece, and a prosperous farm he had no wish to divide.
Her husband, Lloyd, was never quite reconciled to the divorce, realizing what a mistake he’d made in losing Mavis. Though he never lost his penchant for women and drink, he bought land just across the road, building a house there so he’d have a chance to worm his way by into Mavis’ affections and be in his his daughter’s life . Little Sally saw her father daily, just like he’d planned, but Lloyd made a point to keep an eye on what went on at Mavis’s place all the time. Unfortunately, this gave Mavis a bird’s eye view of his social activities, not a wise move for a man seeking forgiveness from a wronged wife. Despite his many raucous parties and interesting friendships, he was forever hopeful, lo these many years later, that today Mavis would welcome him back into her loving arms. Whenever an unfamiliar vehicle drove up, Lloyd was sure to amble over to check the guest out. The first time we visited her, Mavis said, “Oh Lordy, here comes Lloyd to see if y’all are my boyfriend.”
Mavis, Beau, and Lloyd lived this way for more than fifty years, till the lovely Sally finally inherited both places, uniting them, as Lloyd had always hoped.
Curtis, the Church Lady, and Pecan Pie
With thirty years in nursing, you can well imagine I have my share of strange stories. I worked in acute dialysis in the hospital, so knew my patients very well. We talked about their lives, familis, dogs, whatever was on their minds. One of my favorite patients was Curtis, a huge man, perfectly delightful, but developmentally challenged. His thinking was about on the level of a eight-year-old. Curtis had somehow gotten credit at a furniture store, bought a houseful of furniture, and not made a single payment. He was being hounded for payment, so decided the best course of action was to go in the hospital, where he wouldn’t be bothered. When he told the nurse at the outpatient dialysis clinic he needed to go to the hospital, she explained he couldn’t be admitted unless sick. He did some thinking and called her back to his chair telling her he had something for her. (I can’t imagine how she fell for that.). He dropped an impressive lump of excrement into her outstretched hand and was admitted into the psychiatric unit of the hospital in short order.
He was happily ensconced at the hospital, soon moved to the medical floor. One day he walked into my unit asking for a large patient gown. He went on his way. Curtis was not on my mind when I heard a lady out in the hall exclaim. “Oh my God! Take it!” It seems she had been bringing a pecan pie to her hospitalized friend from church when she encountered seven-foot-tall Curtis, walking naked down the hall, looking for hospital staff to help him with his gown. Curtis, hadn’t seen a pecan pie in way too long. He dropped the gown, grabbed the pie and raised a clumsy fist when the poor woman resisted. She gave up on the pie and fled shrieking. Eventually, the whole thing smoothed over. Curtis had his pie and his gown. The hospital gave the lady another pecan pie and an apology. By the time Curtis got home, his furniture had been repossessed, so he wasn’t harassed any more. They all lived happily ever after, except of course for the nurse who got a handful of doo-doo.
Nosey Old Biddies
My two grandmothers were a lovely pair. Saccharin sweet to each other, they sat with veiled claws, looking for a chance to swipe at the other.
Grandma: “Well , you looking healthy. I believe you put on a few pounds.”
Maw Maw: “No ma’am. My weight’s been falling off some. I got some old dresses I was gonna offer you, but ‘pears now they might be too little for you.”
GM: “Your’s would be way to big, but I don’t need ’em anyhow. My son took me shopping and bought me six dresses when I was out at his house. He could have just bought me a bus ticket, but he wanted to come get me in his new car. It sure is good to see your kids doing good, isn’t it? Did your girl, Bettie’s, husband ever get a job after he lost that one last time I was down here? Now isn’t he the one who drinks a little?””
MM: “None of my kids drinks. You must be think in’ a’some o’ yore folks. Jack’s moved to a job makin’ twenty more a week. My young’uns might not’a gone to college like yourn, but they all got good jobs. I brought a cake. I know Pore Ol’ Bill loves a cake an’ Kathaleen don’t have him something sweet ever’day like I always did!”
If not interrupted, this could go on indefinitely, trading swipe after swipe. Mother tried to intercede if she heard Grandma might be about to hit the motherlode, ferreting out just how long Cousin Yvonne was married before the baby came or discover that Cousin Ross was in the pen for robbing a filling station. Should all else fail, Grandma could hit us kids up for tidbits of information that could be stitched together to satisfy her curiosity.
MM: b
Where Babies Come From
I have two younger sisters born seventeen months apart. I was about eight when Connie came along. Mother had told us she was expecting, but since I wasn’t interested in babies, I quickly put it out of my mind, not think thinking much more about it. I even socked one of my cousins for saying my mother was pregnant. I thought it was an insult like “trashy” or “low class.” I was shamed to no end when my aunt confirmed that my mother was indeed “pregnant” and the word meant “expecting.” Not only was Mother “pregnant!” She’d put me in a position to humiliate myself.
I found Connie very cute and entertaining once she got old enough to play. Always happy to play with her, I’d forsake her as soon as she cried or needed a diaper. Phyllis was a “little mother” and could care for Connie as well as Mother. When Connie was a year old, Mother and Daddy announced a second baby was en route. By now, I’d picked up a little misinformation and knew baby production involved the two of them. They’d “done it” though what “it” involved was very foggy. They’d alway said if I had any questions, come to them, so one day when Mother had her friends over for coffee, I asked if they’d had to do “it” more than five times to get five children. This clearly wasn’t the type question she meant. I guess questions about Sunday School were more to her taste. She invited me to mind my own business and not ask any more questions.
Oops, Did I Say That?
For a while when I was a kid we had the Sailor Bill Show, a low budget afternoon kid’s show featuring Sailor Bill and his sidekick Polly Parrot. Everyday Sailor Bill showed a couple of cartoons, interviewed some kids in the audience, talked to Polly Parrot, told a few jokes and made some effort to entertain us. Continue reading
Genie Joke
Joe was walking along the beach whe he found a dusty old bottle. When he rubbed it, a genie came pouring out, “”I will grant you a wish, anything you want, but just one wish.” Continue reading
Welcome Home, Baby
Mother had said she was having a baby when I was about eight but I wasn’t particularly interested in babies, So didn’t think a lot about it. I didn’t make the connection when when Daddy took us to spend the night with Miss Myra, one night. I think we were supposed to spend the night with Aunt Julie, but she’d gotten sick and couldn’t keep us, Continue reading
The Model T and Potholes
Mama held me tight on her lap in the backseat of Uncle Herb’s old Model T Ford as we bounced toward Clarksville, bound to spend the Fourth of July with Grandma and Grandpa Perkins. She was worried I’d fall out the window, though how I’d have managed it was a mystery to me with the death grip she me in. John sat next to the other window, a box with several quarts of Mama’s pickles and fresh tomatoes rattling between us. Daddy stayed behind to milk and take care of the garden. I don’t think he minded not going to Grandma’s at all.
In 1934, only a red-dirt road ran four miles between Cuthand Creek and Cuthand. Rutted and often impassable in winter. It was riddled with huge potholes in summer, a real obstacle course for the battered old Model T Uncle Herb had just acquired. We were delighted to see him and it, since he was the first in the family to own a car. Dust fogged up about a half-mile from home when the car bumped into a pot-hole and rattled to a stop. When it wouldnt start again, he lifted the hood, finding a
part had rattled off. Looking behind us, he found the part, replaced it, and off we went. This obviously wasn’t the first time it had worked loose. The threads were stripped nearly bare. After the next big bump, the same thing happened. He found the part and screwed it back on, though he knew it wouldn’t hold long. It didn’t. Not thirty feet down the road, it fell off again on a moderately smooth section of road. He left the left side of the hood up, had Uncle Dave sit on the right fender and hold the part in place as he slowly navigated between potholes the rest of the way in to Cuthand, where he could make some repairs. Mama kept a watch behind as Dave clung perilously to the fender while trying to keep the car running. It was a long four miles into Cuthand.
Nutsrok 