Before Thanksgiving we visited Cypremort Point State Park on Vermillion Bay in South Louisiana. It is incredibly lovely. The park is pristine and well-maintained with an abundance of amenities. With several pet-friendly cabins and numerous pull-thru camper sites, it is easy to find the perfect spot. The cabins are roomy and well-maintained. The screened in porches. The beach is beautiful. There is a long walking pier extending over the marsh, perfect for nature walks. We saw many birds, turtles, deer, and nutria. Alligator trails were clearly visible. Amazingly, we only saw three pieces of litter in this park. Our visit was a total pleasure. We will return.
I thought I was giving Izzy at treat and inadvertently introduced stress into his happy little life. He is now obsessed with this chew. He normally spends a good bit of his time lap-sitting but the last couple of days, he’s been moving this to keep it out of our big dog’s reach. He seems to derive no please from it. I think I may need to swap it out for a toy so he can get back to business as normal.
Connie’s first grade class picture. Connie sits directly in front of the teacher. Mother made her dress.
Ralphie’s mom had coffee with Mother several mornings a week. A quirky little guy, he played happily with Connie and Marilyn in their bedroom. Mother never let them shut the bedroom door. She still hadn’t gotten over my brother poking holes in Barbie’s nipples with a straight pin. One morning, Mother heard the door shut. She left her coffee and opened the door. “Leave the door open. It’ll get too hot in here.” Ralphie was digging happily in the toy box, obviously in pursuit of some prize. In just a minute, Mother heard the door shut again. Leaving her coffee, she opened the bedroom again. Barbie dolls, clothes, and accessories were spread all around. Hurriedly, Ralphie hid a half-dressed Barbie behind his back. “Leave the door open. It’s hot in here.”
”I want the door shut,” said Ralphie. “I’m cold.”
Realizing Ralphie hadn’t wanted to be seen playing Barbie, Mother answered. “Tell you what, kids. Bring your Barbies and tea set in the living room and I’ll make you some KoolAid. We’ll all have a tea party.” The kids gathered up their toys and set up in the living room at their mama’s feet. Ever after, when Ralphie came to play Barbie, they all had a tea party in the living room with the ladies.
My life is better in some ways than I had hoped. Last year at this time , my ninety-six-year-old Mother lived alone in her home. I spent a great deal of my time helping her, taking her to do errands, and just taking her out. Despite all the time I spent with her, I knew it wasn’t enough. She was starved for company and wasn’t thriving. Her weight was dropping and she was weak. With encouragement, she made the difficult decision to move into an independent living apartment, an excellent decision.
She enjoys sharing meals with her friends in the dining room, has walks twice a day, has gained weight, and attends church again. Every day she tells me how happy she is now. I visit her two to three times a week because I want to, not because she needs my care. Both our lives are much better.
The December after I turned six years old, I hatched a plot. I’d leave a note for Santa asking to accompany him on his rounds. I felt sure if I asked nicely, he’d wake me up and take me along. though Mother assured me it wouldn’t happen. I laboriously wrote this note.
Dear Santa,
I have been good. Can I go with you ? I hate dolls. I want a BB gun and a blue bicycle. I love you.
Linda
About bedtime, Mother said she heard the jingle bells on Santa’s sleigh. I flew to the door to try to catch Santa but didn’t catch him. Mother sent me to bed since he wouldn’t come until I went to sleep. It took me forever to go to sleep. I was disappointed to wake up in the morning and find I’d been left at home.
We knew not to go in to see if Santa had come before waking our parents. Mother dragged out the anticipation by making coffee before we went to see what Santa had brought. When we were finally allowed in, Mother pointed out a note taped to TV screen, “Linda, did you think you could catch me?”
My parents laughed but I was devastated. Not only did Santa ditch me, he thought it was funny.
When I opened my presents, I got a life-sized baby doll that could pee its diaper. I threw it down and stomped my foot, “I hate dolls. I wanted a BB gun.” I got a spat and a warning to behave myself. Mother pointed out the biggest package under the tree with my name on it. I tore into it only to find a tin tea set with a Dutch boy and girl on it. I wanted to throw a fit but knew what that would get me.
Seeing my disappointment, Mother tried to distract me. “Here open this present from Grandma.” It was the twin of the doll that had already gotten me in trouble. My sister got a blue bicycle. I found out later that day my two boy cousins my age got BB guns.
The only thing that saved my Christmas was finding a big red rocking horse behind the tree. I loved it.
The only time I ever played with those accursed dolls was when my cousin Sue and I treated them to a funeral the next summer. My mother was a slow learner. I got a doll the next two Christmases as well.
“Kathleen, I hate to bother you, but Oly is comin’in on the bus Friday. Would you mind takin’ me to pick her up?” I listened in as Miss Laura buttered my biscuit.
“Sure, I’ll be glad to. Is that the one whose husband just died?” Mother asked.
“Yes, he’d been sick in bed a long time,” replied Miss Laura. “I was poorly when he died and couldn’t make it for the funeral, so Oly told me to just wait an’she’d come stay awhile after she got him buried. We never got to visit much. She was just a baby when she married an’ and I only got to see her once in a great while.”
I was fascinated with the idea of a baby marrying and couldn’t wait to see her. Maybe we could play together. As I stood on the step with my biscuit, I was lost in thought. imagining a pig-tailed girl my age steeping off a school bus, the only bus I knew a thing about.
Mother pulled in at Mitchell’s Cafe out on the highway on Friday. We sweltered in the July heat as Billy and I tusseled in the back seat. Mother and Miss Laura Mae fanned themselves as heat monkeys danced on the pavement. Dust fogged in the open car windows as a long gray vehickle with a picture of a skinny dog pulled up.
“Here she comes!” Miss Laura Mae clutched her big black purse and heaved herself out of the car as the bus door opened.
I sat up and watched for a little girl in a wedding dress to emerge, but no one got off but an old lady in a flowered dress. Miss Laura Mae hurried over, catching her in a huge hug smashing their identical pushes between them. Her curly white hair was caught up in a hair net and she wore the same black lace-up old lady oxfords as Miss Laura Mae. The bus driver pulled her bag from a bin on the side of the bus. Mother helped her load it in the trunk.
“Kathleen, this is my sister, Oly.” Sadly, I abandoned my hope of a playmate.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Oly. How are you doing?”
“Oh, I couldn’t be better,” said Miss Oly. “I ain’t baked a biscuit since June 6th, the day my Ol’ man died!”
Miss Laura Mae and Miss Oly laughed out loud as Mother replied, “Oh, that’s nice,” as she cranked the car.
Nutsrok 