Life

Aaron Purmort

Full Obituary

“Age 35, died peacefully at home on November 25 after complications from a radioactive spider bite that led to years of crime-fighting and a years long battle with a nefarious criminal named Cancer, who has plagued our society for far too long.  

Civilians will recognize him best as Spider-Man, and thank him for his many years of service protecting our city.

His family knew him only as a kind and mild-mannered Art Director, a designer of websites and t-shirts and concert posters who always had the right cardigan and the right thing to say (even if it was wildly inappropriate).  

Aaron was known for his long, entertaining stories, which he loved to repeat often.

In high school, he was in the band ‘The Asparagus Children’, which reached critical acclaim in the northern suburbs.  

As an adult, he graduated from the College of Visual Arts (which also died an untimely death recently) and worked in several agencies around Minneapolis, settling in as an Interactive Associate Creative Director at Colle + McVoy.  

Aaron was a comic book aficionado, a pop-culture encyclopedia and always the most fun person at any party.

He is survived by his parents, Bill and Kim Kuhlmeyer, father Mark Purmort (Patricia, Autumn, Aly), sisters Erika and Nicole, first wife Gwen Stefani, current wife Nora and their son Ralph, who will grow up to avenge his father’s untimely death.”

A service will be held on December 3, 2014.

William Ziegler passed away on July 29, 2016 at the age of 69 “to avoid having to make a decision in the pending presidential election,” according to the obituary written by Ziegler’s four children.

Ziegler’s obituary also mentions his love for the “morons and mental patients” that he served with as a fireman, sending tasteless internet jokes, potted meat and his “alcoholic dog Judge”.

While this obituary is full of humour, Ziegler’s daughter shared with the Times-Picayune the meaning behind the hilarious obituary saying that her father would always email funny obituaries he found online so that they could have a laugh.

All jokes aside, the obituary ends with a heartfelt, “He will be greatly missed.”

Full Obituary

“William Ziegler escaped this mortal realm on Friday, July 29, 2016 at the age of 69.  We think he did it on purpose to avoid having to make a decision in the pending presidential election.

He leaves behind four children, five grand-children, and the potted meat industry, for which he was an unofficial spokesman until dietary restrictions forced him to eat real food.

William volunteered for service in the United States Navy at the ripe old age of 17 and immediately realized he didn’t much enjoy being bossed around.  He only stuck it out for one war.  Before his discharge, however, the government exchanged numerous ribbons and medals for various honorable acts.

Upon his return to the City of New Orleans in 1971, thinking it best to keep an eye on him, government officials hired William as a fireman.  After twenty-five years, he suddenly realized that running away from burning buildings made more sense than running toward them.  He promptly retired.

Looking back, William stated that there was no better group of morons and mental patients than those he had the privilege of serving with (except Bob, he never liked you, Bob).

Following his wishes, there will not be a service, but well-wishers are encouraged to write a note of farewell on a Schaefer Light beer can and drink it in his honor.

He was never one for sentiment or religiosity, but he wanted you to know that if he owes you a beer, and if you can find him in Heaven, he will gladly allow you to buy him another.  He can likely be found forwarding tasteless internet jokes (check your spam folder, but don’t open these at work).

Expect to find an alcoholic dog named Judge passed out at his feet.  Unlike previous times, this is not a ploy to avoid creditors or old girlfriends.  He assures us that he is gone. He will be greatly missed.”

Published in The Times-Picayune on Aug. 12, 2016.

Emily Philip’s Self-penned Obituary

“It pains me to admit it, but apparently, I have passed away.  Everyone told me it would happen one day but that’s simply not something I wanted to hear, much less experience.  Once again I didn’t get things my way!  That’s been the story of my life all my life.

And while on that subject (the story of my life)… on February 9, 1946 my parents and older sister celebrated my birth and I was introduced to all as Emily DeBrayda Fisher, the daughter of Clyde and Mary Fisher from Hazelwood.  

I can’t believe that happened in the first half of the last century but there are records on file in the Court House which can corroborate this claim.

Just two years later when another baby girl was born, I became known as the middle sister of the infamous three Fisher Girls, and the world was changed forever.

As a child I walked to the old Hazelwood Elementary School where teachers like Mrs. McCracken, Mrs.  Davis and Mrs.  Moody planted the seed that eventually led me to becoming a teacher.  

I proudly started my teaching career at that same elementary school in January 1968, and from there I went on to teach young children in the neighboring states of Virginia, Georgia, as well as Florida where I retired after 25 years.

So many things in my life seemed of little significance at the time they happened but then took on a greater importance as I got older.  The memories I’m taking with me now are so precious and have more value than all the gold and silver in my jewelry box.

Memories … where do I begin? 

Well, I remember Mother wearing an apron; I remember Daddy calling Square Dances; I remember my older sister pushing me off my tricycle (on the cinder driveway); I remember my younger sister sleep walking out of the house.

I remember grandmother Nonnie who sewed exquisite dresses for me when I was little; I remember grandmother Mamateate wringing a chicken’s neck so we could have Sunday dinner.

I remember being the bride in our Tom Thumb Wedding in first grade and performing skits for the 4-H Club later in grade five.  I remember cutting small rosebuds still wet with dew to wear to school on spring mornings, and I remember the smell of newly mowed grass.  

I remember the thrill of leading our high school band down King Street in New Orleans for Mardi Gras (I was head majorette).  I remember representing Waynesville in the Miss North Carolina Pageant, and yes, I twirled my baton to the tune of “Dixie”.  It could have been no other way.

I married the man of my dreams (tall, dark, and handsome) on December 16, 1967 and from that day on I was proud to be Mrs. Charlie Phillips, Grand Diva Of All Things Domestic.  

Our plan was to have two children, a girl and a boy.  Inexplicably we were successful in doing exactly that when we were blessed with our daughter Bonnie and then later our son Scott.  Seeing these two grow into who they were supposed to be brought a wonderful sense of meaning to our lives.

This might be a good time to mend fences. 

I apologize for making sweet Bonnie wear No Frills jeans when she was little and for “red-shirting” Scott in kindergarten.  Apparently each of these things was humiliating to them but both were able to rise above their shame and become very successful adults.  

I’d also like to apologize to Mary Ann for tearing up her paper dolls and to Betsy for dating a guy she had a crush on.

Just when I thought I was too old to fall in love again, I became a grandmother, and my five grand-angels stole not only my heart, but also spent most of my money.  Sydney Elizabeth, Jacob McKay, and Emma Grace (all Uprights) have enriched my life more than words can say.  

Sydney’s “one more, no more” when she asked for a cookie; Jake saying he was “sick as a cat” when I’d said that someone else was sick as a dog; and Emma cutting her beautiful long hair and then proceeding to shave off one of her eyebrows … Yes, these are a few of my favorite things.  

They’re treasures that are irreplaceable and will go with me wherever my journey takes me.

I’ve always maintained that my greatest treasures call me Nana.  That’s not exactly true.  You see, the youngest of my grand-angels, William Fisher Phillips and Charlie Jackson Phillips call me “Nana Banana”.  (Thank you Chris and Scott for having such spunky children.) 

These two are also apt to insist that I “get their hiney” whenever I visit, and since I’m quite skilled in that area, I’ve always been able to oblige.  (I actually hold the World’s Record for “Hiney Getting,” a title that I wear with pride.)

Speaking of titles…I’ve held a few in my day.  

I’ve been a devoted daughter, an energetic teenager, a WCU graduate (summa cum laude), a loving wife, a comforting mother, a dedicated teacher, a true and loyal friend, and a spoiling grandmother.  And if you don’t believe it, just ask me.  Oh wait, I’m afraid it’s too late for questions.  Sorry.

So … I was born; I blinked; and it was over.  

No buildings named after me; no monuments erected in my honor.  But I DID have the chance to know and love each and every friend as well as all my family members.  How much more blessed can a person be?  

So in the end, remember… do your best, follow your arrow, and make something amazing out of your life.  Oh, and never stop smiling.

If you want to, you can look for me in the evening sunset or with the earliest spring daffodils or amongst the flitting and fluttering butterflies.  You know I’ll be there in one form or another.  

Of course that will probably comfort some while antagonizing others, but you know me… it’s what I do.

I’ll leave you with this…please don’t cry because I’m gone; instead be happy that I was here.  (Or maybe you can cry a little bit.  After all, I have passed away).

Today I am happy and I am dancing.  Probably naked.

Love you forever

Mean Folks

Like everybody else, through life I’ve had to deal with a number of mean folks.  Since then, they get improved billing as toxic people.  It works out about the same.  Some have been family who professed great love for me. Others passed as friends, and I had the privilege of working with some.

I wish I had been born knowing some of the stuff I’ve learned along the way.  For one, pay attention to your gut.  If you have a bad feeling about someone, be cautious.  We have  been trained to give people the benefit of the doubt.  There’s a reason people to make you uneasy. Animals don’t ignore their intuition.  Neither should we.  It is hard-wired into our DNA.

Protect yourself.  Anyone can make a mistake once.  Repeated behavior is a habit, unlikely to change.  Move on.

 

 

 

 

Just Folks Getting By Finale

 

Ben brought Uncle Amos home to supper that night, just like he always did on Thursdays.  Lucille did herself proud with fried chicken.  Jenny made mashed potatoes, English Pea Salad, and sliced fresh garden tomatoes.

“Ladies, I haven’t had a meal this good since I don’t know when.  Lucille, I been thinking about asking you to marry me, and your fried chicken just made up my mind.”  He said.

“Well, I hope it don’t break yore heart, but I already been married plenty.  I like to do things my way.  I don’t want to have to take care of nobody no more.  I don’t mind cooking you up some fried chicken once in a while, though.”  She laughed. 

“Well, that’s a relief.  I really ain’t partial to gittin’ married again either, but I sure admire your fried chicken.”  Everybody got a laugh out of that.

Jenny brought out coffee and pie, then told Ben.  “Mama and I want to talk to you about something.  Mama wants to buy Miss Dolly’s shop.  Miss Dolly needs three thousand dollars.  Mama has fifteen hundred.  I am thinking I’d like to go in with her.  You know I’ve got a little saved from before we got married.  Lucy could go to work with me.  There’s a little bed/sitting room opening right onto the shop where she could nap and play.  That way, I could work and not have to leave her.  What do you think?”

Lucille spoke before Ben had time to respond.  “Now before you worry over this too much, Ben, I want you to know.  I ain’t expecting to live with you.  I can move into the back of the shop. I want my own place.  I don’t want to be dependin’ on nobody for a place to live.  It was good of Shirley and Martin to let me fix up their garage apartment, but I don’t want to feel like I am in their way.  I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Martin’s mama didn’t want to move in there.  The house was hers to start with.  I sure don’t want to cause no family trouble.  I don’t mean for Jenny to go in with me if you’d rather not. Dolly has already suggested I could pay it out by the month if I haf’ to.  She ain’t had no other offers.”

“Let’s just do the figures and see how it works out.  Jenny has her own money to use as she pleases. You know I’m not the kind of fellow to take from my wife. I like the idea of her having Lucy with her.  Jerry wants more hours, anyway.  Uncle Amos is there in the mornings.  All that kind of fits in with something I was thinking about, anyway.  Jenny’s idea of coffee and treats has really caught on.  You know the hardware store and Dolly’s Shop have an adjoining wall.  How would you feel about opening up between and I could give my customers a coupon and they could come over there for a free coffee?  They could buy their own snack.  That would help us both.”  Ben looked thoughtful.  “It might just work.  What do you think, Uncle Amos?  You are a good businessman.  Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“It sure sounds good to me.  I believe folks would always go for free coffee.  I expect they’d turn a good profit.  I believe me and you could open up the space between the two stores and not have to hire nobody to do that work.  I did all the work around my store.  I never wanted to pay for no work I could do myself.”  Amos looked enthusiastic at the thought of getting his hands dirty.

“I can’t see any reason not to do this.  I believe we’d all come out well.”  Ben admitted. “Let’s get cracking.”

“If you don’t mind me makin’ a long distance call, I guess I’d better call Shirley an’ let her know she’s gonna need a baby sitter.  I have an idea it will be a relief to her,” Lucille said.  “I’ll get the operator to call back and let me know what the charge is so I can pay you back.  I don’t usually call long distance, but I want to talk to Dolly before somebody else gits the place.”

“You go right ahead, but you are not paying us back for that call.” Ben told her.

Lucille was gone about ten minutes.  “Well, Shirley took it real good.  She told me she’s about four months along and she ain’t goin’ back to teachin’ this fall.  She’s really looking forward to finally gittin’ to stay home with a baby.  She had to go back when school started in the fall with the other three.  She did ask if I could come stay a couple of weeks when the baby comes, though.  I told her I figured you could handle things.  Turns out, it’s good I come up with somethin’ else anyway.  Old Lady Benson has been houndin’ Marty about wantin’ my apartment.  She thinks she’s still got a claim to it since they bought the house from her.  He told her I’d done put three thousand dollars in it an’ it wasn’t up to him.  She told him she’d give me four thousand if I’d give it up.  I told Marty to tell her, it’d sure hurt me but I guess I’d do it.  If she wants to keep that new stove, icebox, and curtains I put in I told him she could have them for two hundred fifty dollars more.  Sounds like a pretty good deal to git them out of a hard spot.  I don’t envy Shirley none, havin’ that old lady in her back yard, but she says she can handle it.

Six months later:

Lucille walked in Jenny’s Sweet Shop and surprised Jenny at the register.  “Mama, why in the world didn’t you tell us you were coming on the bus today?  Seems like you were gone a year instead of just three weeks.  Uncle Amos was planning to drive over and pick you Sunday!  I can’t fuss, though.  I am so glad to see you. I’d dance a jig if I could, but Lucy and this big old baby under my apron are ‘bout to wear me out. I can’t believe I’ve still got five months to go! Uncle Amos has been having to help me half a day every day.  Come on in and I’ll get us a cup of coffee.  Lucy, come see!  Grandma’s back.  Tell me all about that new baby.”

“Oh, she’s a pretty little red-headed blue-eyed thing with the curliest eyelashes you ever saw, just like you and Jimmy!  I got some real cute pictures of all the kids.  Old Lady Benson was claiming credit for them eyelashes the whole time.  You know, I always talked about the eyelashes on my babies.  Whooee!  I’m glad I don’t have to put up with that woman no more!  She tried to talk me down to a hundred and fifty dollars for that new stove and icebox I put in.  I held out for two-hundred fifty and she gave up and paid it, once she found out I had another seller lined up.  Lord, that woman is hard to please.

https://atomic-temporary-73629786.wpcomstaging.com/2017/02/12/just-folks-getting-by-part-1/

Link to first post in this serial

How to Live All Your Life

Pencil sketch of Roscoe Holdaway by Kathleen Holdaway Swain done in 1941 when she was twelve.Kathleen's Pencil Sketch of Roscoe 1941On her last visit with her father, she tried to spend a lot of time with him, knowing it was unlikely she’d see him again.  Overwhelmed with the demands of a large family, she often felt her life was not her own.  Most afternoons, she struggled to get both little ones to nap at the same time and used that precious time to catch up on her laundry and whatever she couldn’t get done with them underfoot.  She’d come to visit with the intention of staying two weeks, but extended her visit to a third week, trying to get a lifetime of visits in before she lost him.
Up since five-thirty with a teething baby, she finally got both little ones down for a nap after lunch.  Though she yearned for a nap herself, she joined her father on the porch.  Watching from the open door, she memorized him before going out, think how frail he looked in his wool coat and old felt hat humped over in his straight chair in the brutal, August of the afternoon.  He’d laid his paperback Western open-faced on the porch-floor.  Inferring he must be heartbroken, knowing he couldn’t live much longer, she took a seat beside him thinking he might have something to say.
“Kat,” he started.  “I’ve been watching those ants on the ground down there.  Look how they are so busy on their little trail.  Some are rushing forward to pick up a load, and some are headed back to the nest all loaded down.  Every once in a while, a few of them stop to talk then turn round and round in the trail before getting back in line. Isn’t that something?”
Surprised to hear of his pleasure in the ants, she realized he wasn’t sad at all, just absorbed in their activity. She sat with him till her little ones awoke and called her back to the ant trail of her life.
That was the last time she spent alone with him.

Lesson from a Blackbird

I grew up on a farm.  My brother and I were out in a field with his shotgun one day when a flock of blackbirds flew over.  I fired into the flock, hitting one unfortunate bird.  I was thrilled at my marksmanship, never having expected to hit anything.  Feeling victorious, I picked the little bird up, only to find he wasn’t dead yet.  He wrapped his little claws around my finger reflexively, like a newborn baby does.  It broke my heart that I had taken his life for no reason other than my own pleasure.  That was when I learned every creature’s life is as precious to it as mine is to me.  I’ve never wanted to harm another since then.