memoir

Kathleen Carries On Part 9 or It Couldn’t Be Helped

“It could’t be helped” Mother employed this phrase to excuse herself whenever she messed up. Since she was a ditz and a world-class procrastinator, it came in really handy. In her defense, with five children and a demanding husband, she always had too many things on her list.

On the most memorable occasion, my brother had been gifted a handsome suit. The whole family was pleased for him. The trousers were unhemmed, as was common at that time. They hung in his closet awaiting Mother’s attention for several days. Alas, an elderly neighbor died and Bill was asked to serve as pallbearer. The funeral was to be the next day. The new suit would be put into service.

“Mother, I need my new suit for Granny’s funeral. Can you hem it?” he asked.

“Okay, but I’ll need you to try it on so I can measure it. We’ll get it after a while.” They both moved on to other things. The lonely suit hung in the closet some more while they went about their business.

Daddy announced he and Mother were to visit with the bereaved that evening. They didn’t get home till after ten.

Bill was in a panic about his trousers. “Mother, you’ve got to hem my suit! The funeral is at two tomorrow!”

“There’s plenty of time in the morning. I’ll get it then.” She was exhausted.

Not surprisingly, the house was bedlam the next morning. Finally, about ten-thirty, it was suit-hemming time. Mother told Bill to put the pants on so she could measure. By this time, he was frustrated and mad. “I don’t have time to try them on!”

Annoyed at his impertinence, she vacillated. “Well, just hold them in front of yourself and show me where you want the hem.” Irritated, he held them to his waist. “Now where do you want the hem?” He bent and pointed. She snipped. He rushed to the shower while she hemmed and pressed.

In a few minutes, he called out. He was all dressed except for his trousers. She bragged on her neat job as she hurried the pants back to him. In minutes, with a face like a thundercloud, he was out to model the new suit. He was fully dressed in jacket and tie, even down to shoes and socks. The trouser hems were fully three inches above his socks. He looked like Tom Sawyer in knee breeches! Everybody sat in shocked silence. The suit was ruined! Mother looked at Bill in the suit she’d just destroyed and excused herself.

“Well, it couldn’t be helped.” Out of shock, the room exploded in guffaws. It was obvious there had been so many ways “it could have been helped!”

Bumps in the Road Part 14

Bill was his old charming self that evening. They had dinner and saw a movie. Bobo and Lucy were both naturally funny and kept Kathleen in stitches. Bill had a few drinks and just got more gallant and attentive as the evening went on. Kathleen even loosened up and had a couple. She’d never had so much fun in her life. It was crazy for her to be so prudish about a little drinking. She found, she could even dance! They were out till after two. Bill had to shush her to stifle her giggles as they tiptoed into the house. It was clear he’d had more experience tiptoeing than she had.

It was after ten when Bill awoke He’d already dressed. “Sweetheart, you can’t sleep all day! We got to go get you all fancied up and go see your folks!”

“Oh my gosh! I forgot all about that! I’ve never slept this late in my life! Let me get a quick bath and dress.” She hurried through her bath and makeup and was proud to find a yellow print dress Bill hadn’t seen yet. Mama was an accomplished seamstress and prided herself that her kids were the best-dressed in the neighborhood. In fact, the only luxury she and Roscoe had ever bought was a Singer sewing machine which she kept humming. All Kathleen had to do was point out a dress she liked in a store window or catalog and Mama would whip one up like it.

“Don’t you look a sight!” Bill said as she twirled for him. “I swear you’re as pretty as a picture. I ain’t never seen nothing like you!”

They stopped for a quick breakfast at the cafe. Kathleen was so proud to show Bill off to the giggling girls she’d worked with. Their admiring envy felt wonderful. She was the luckiest girl in the world to be on his arm.

Kathleen found a darling navy dress with white lace cuff and collar in the first shop they visited on the Clarksville square. It was nice but too expensive at $8.98. Bill must have thought so ,too, since he steered her out of there, saying he wanted to look a little more.

“Let’s look in here.” he said, pointing out a turquoise dress with sequins on the bodice.

“Bill,” she whispered. “We can’t go in there. That’s the most expensive shop in town.”

“I like that dress,” he said. “You need to try it.”

She hardly knew what to think when she saw the tag, $16.99. She’d never even tried on such a thing! It felt heavenly as it slipped over her shoulders. “It’s gorgeous, Bill, but way too expensive.” She whispered. “Let’s go back and get the navy one.”

“Miss?” he called to the saleslady. “We’ll take this one. Can you take the tags off so she can wear it now? It’s a special day!”

“I certainly can.” she replied, following Kathleen into the dressing room. She quickly wrapped the dress Kathleen had worn in and rang up the sale.

My Daily Habits

My habits are humdrum. I take the dogs out early because they demand it, feed and water them as soon as I get in so I won’t get trampled, drink some juice while I dawdle about and sit under my small dog a while. I think his hiney is broken since he doesn’t want to sit on his own. Bud and I visit until I feel compelled to a bit of housework I can’t put off any longer unless I slip out to the yard to play with my flowers. Of course, more dog walks. We usually brunch about eleven.

Interacting with my dogs in their favorite way

My afternoons are free for writing, crocheting or whatever other things I chose. I avoid errands, grouping them on one day. Several times a week I visit Mother or take her out. On those days, I usually check Lowes for plant markdowns, the only shopping I like. Our nearby Lowe’s is the smallest in town. They get the same amount of stock as the bigger Lowes, so their markdowns are great

All written out, my life looks pretty mundane but I love it.

Kathleen Carries On Part 8 or Their Mama Raised Them Right

Several ago Mother awoke to a terrible crash! Thinking a car had run into her house, she dashed up the hall to find her door lying in the living room floor and two young men dressed in black standing in her living room. “Give me your purse!” The one with the baseball bat growled.

Ever modest, Mother demanded, “Wait, I need my robe. It’s across the foot of my bed. “You’ll have to help me into it. My shoulder’s hurt!” He dutifully fetched it and helped her into it.

Baseball bat guy looked like he wished he’d never started this. “Where’s your wallet?” he tried again.

“In that bag on the buffet” she pointed.

He emptied out a big bag of books. “Nothing but books here.”

“No,the other bag.”

He opened her wallet, pulling out eleven dollars. Clearly disappointed, “”Is this all you got?” She answered, “yeah and I wouldn’t have that if I hadn’t planned to buy gas tomorrow.”

“What about your ATM card?” he demanded.

That made her mad. “No! That’s enough.” With that they turned and left. In a few seconds, one guy returned. “I forgot my bat. Have a nice day!”

“You, too.” She replied automatically. She called 911 and officers got there right away. She called us and we flew over. She gave her report and at the end remarked, “They were very polite. They seemed like they were raised right!”

Yeah, except for one little thing.

Bumps in the Road Part 13

Kathleen was dressed to the nines when Bill got in the next evening. “Let’s go out to supper!” I got paid! His mood was contagious. Kathleen made sure no one else wanted the bathroom, cleaned the tub, and drew him a bath. She laid out his washcloth and soap on the edge of the tub and put his towel and underwear on the toilet seat. Pleased with herself, she told Bill his bath was ready. He was delighted. “Nobody’s ever done for me this way before. You are quite a girl.” Kathleen was so happy to have been a “good wife.”

After he bathed and dressed they walked downstairs together to pay the rent. He turned on the charm for Mrs. Martin “I heard you got worried about the rent. You know I ain’t gonna forget about my best girl.” he teased.

“Oh now! You know better than that. I knew payday was today and you’d catch me up.” The rent went straight in her apron pocket! She cut a look at Kathleen.

Never one for a confrontation, though Kathleen was miffed, she let it go. Not twelve hours ago, the old bat was dunning her. Laughing, Bill hurried her out. An older black truck pulled up as they stepped off the porch. It was Bill’s friend, Bobo and his girlfriend, Lucy. Bobo was as friendly as a speckled pup. Lucy admired Kathleen’s yellow dress.”Ooh! I love your yellow dress! I got one exactly like it ‘cept it’s blue.” Bobo and Lucy were a comical looking couple like Jack Sprat and his wife.

“Bill, maybe you ought’a drive. I already had a couple of nips.” I don’t want to git in no trouble. Bill slid under the steering wheel, Kathleen next to him. Bony Bobo took his place on the passenger’s side. The portly Lucy hoisted herself on his lap, squashing him. A prolonged “oof!” escaped him. Kathleen who only weighed about a hundred pounds, felt sympathy for the poor guy.

“Do you want me to sit on your lap?” she questioned him, meaning trade places with chubby Lucy.

“Oh God no! “ he squeaked crushed under his girl. “Lucy here is already way too heavy all by herself!”

Laughing hysterically, their evening got off to a merry start.

I Was Just Trying to Hit John!

John was usually the one tattled upon but one fine day he cut a dido through the house, singsonging at the top of his lungs,”Kate threw a rock and broke a light on the car! Kate broke a light on the car! Nah! Nah! Nah! Nah! Nah! Nah!

Kate was right behind him, wailing in panic. “I didn’t mean to! I was trying to hit John!” She didn’t get in a lot of trouble. She owed him a thousand times over for dirty tricks.”

Passing the Hat

Sometimes in the hospital we’d get a patient so mean, obnoxious, and demanding that it seemed their only virtue was serving as a bad example. We got an Katrina evacuee who was the worst I ever saw, He verbally and physically abused the staff as much as he was physically able. A rabid racist, mysogynist, and homophobe, it required finesse to assign caregivers who could tolerate him. Out of compassion, his caregivers rotated his care in four hour shifts. Several times, security was called. Unfortunately, it took a while to get him stable enough to demand an “Against Medical Advice” discharge.

That didn’t solve the problem that his return could be anticipated, since he was just barely able to get around. He would be obtaining illicit drugs the minute of discharge, he assured us. However disagreeable he was, he was competent. Of course, the staff was united in wanting to get him back to New Orleans, his home. He swore, if he ever got back, he’d never leave. That was enough for the delighted staff. We passed the hat, raising more than enough for a meal and one way ticket to New Orleans. A happy orderly wheeled him out to the curb where he was met by a cab. It was a great day!

Lady, Your Kid’s Stuck in the Ditch

A dispassionate young boy pounded on my front door. Looking at me dully, he announced. “Lady, your kid’s stuck in the ditch.” I wasn’t expecting that on a cold, rainy morning. The city had been installing a new sewer system. As soon as the ditches were deeply excavated the rain started. It rained and rained and rained. The ditches ran like a river. My five-year-old, John, hadn’t been out for days. Finally, the weather cleared.

John was desperate to get out. I made a bad decision, agreeing to let him play on the carport with a box of toy parts. I checked on him every few minutes, glad to see him deeply involved in his favorite pastime, disassembling his toys and building something else with the random parts. In combination with an erector set, this could occupy him for hours. His dog, as always, was at his side.

Then, I decided to vacuum, my second bad decision, hence the pounding on the door. The kid pointed to the overflowing ditches where John stood, thigh-high in the deep running water. His little dog was running up and down the ditch, barking desperately. Horrified, I flew out and grabbed his arms, trying to pull him out. He was stuck! What on earth? I waded in, braced myself, grabbing him under the arms and tugged. With a strange sucking noise he broke loose. We both rolled backwards in the muck. Instead of relief at being rescued, John wailed,”Daddy’s boots! Get Daddy’s boots!” There was no getting those boots stuck deep in that muddy ditch. It turns out, John had helped himself to his dad’s knee boots, sure he’d be able to ford the ditch. Retrieving them was his major concern.

All’s well that ends well. My kid survived being stuck in the “ditch.” About four days later, Bud took a shovel and dug his boots out of the mud.

Kathleen Carries On Part 7 or Kathleen and the Rapist

Kathleen, my eighty-year old mother was snatched from sleep at three in the morning by the sound of hysterical screaming and pounding on her front door.  Through the peep hole, she recognized her neighbor, a frail, single mother clutching her toddler and tiny infant, begging to come in.  Mother was horrified to hear of Melinda’s rape at gunpoint, the lives of her tiny children threatened.  Nonetheless, Melissa called the police and an investigation was begun.
The next morning, the neighborhood was in an uproar.  Residents stood in the streets discussing the details and studying the composite drawing.  Mr. and Mrs. Smith and their son Jeremy stood on the edge of the crowd listening intently.  Mother had been meaning to go meet them, so as a friendly neighbor, she pulled them into the conversation.
Of course, the rape was on everybody’s mind, so Mother launched into her rapist defense plan, boasting of the shotgun under her bed and her plan to shoot to kill, not mentioning the rusty shotgun hadn’t been fired in thirty years, and never by her. She didn’t even know if she had shells. She was ready.  Eventually, tiring of the drama, the crowd dispersed and went about business as usual.
About two hours later, Mother was surprised to answer her door to Mr. Smith and Jeremy.  She had liked them well enough, but hadn’t expected them to accept her invitation to coffee so soon. After chatting a bit, Mr. Smith brought up the rape. Mother launched into her plan for the rapist, getting more excited as she continued, embellishing the agony in store for him should he be so foolish as to cross her path.  She wasn’t one of those namby-pamby’s who feared killing an intruder.  She’d go straight for the heart.  Should there be anything left afterward, she’d empty her gun in him just for fun.  Jeremy, a sullen teenager, rolled his eyes as much as he dared in the company of his father.  He was a little smart aleck, but Mother still thought it was nice of him to come down with his dad to check on her.
Mr. Smith was still very concerned about Mother’s safety despite hearing of her excellent rapist deterrent plan. Inspecting her locks for security, he found scratches on her back door, showing the rapist had tried but failed to gain entry there.  He asked to see her shotgun, and upon inspection, found the safety rusted shut.  When he asked her if she had a pistol, it caught her by surprise, and she had to admit she didn’t.  Mr. Smith pulled an heirloom quality pistol from his jacket, showed Mother how to fire it, had her demonstrate, loaded it and left, Jeremy in tow.  Mother was touched at his concern and generosity, realizing the pistol would be a lot more good to her than the ancient shotgun with no shells, at least theoretically.
A few days rocked by. The Smiths moved.  Little Jenny Whitmore who lived opposite the Smiths recognized Jeremy from the composite photo.  He was arrested, confessed to the rape and sent back to Wisconsin to serve the rest of his suspended sentence on his previous conviction for sexual assault.  Now Mother understood Mr. Smith’s concern for her safety.  Melissa and her babies moved away.
Life settled back down.  Relieved to have this business settled, Mother’s little neighborhood once again felt safe, secure and friendly.  The only fly in the ointment was when Mr. Smith came calling a few weeks later to reclaim Mother’s/his lovely pearl-handled pistol, not so generous after all.