Storytelling

Hard Time Marrying Part 12

She awoke to a murderous headache and a deafening roar in her ear, the warmth of  the flickering fire beckoning her.  Pulling herself to her feet by clinging to a table leg, she made her way toward it.  As she turned to warm her backside, she caught sight of the baby girl on the bed.

From deep in her battered brain, love for her baby sister nudged her.  Drawn to the bedside, she studied the baby, hardly cognizant of the other child.  Dropping to the edge of the bed, she tenderly touched the child’s burning cheek and tried to gather her to her bosom.

Unaware of the man who’d entered the room, her last thought was of her lost baby sister as she slid back into the darkness, barely aware of being ministered to.

She held little memory of the next few days, though her headache dulled and the roaring in her ear became less demanding.  When she could stay awake, she focused on the baby, a blue-eyed blonde, so much like her sister.  A small boy trailed the man constantly. Thinking still made her head ache, especially when she had the nightmare about a pistol and a man.  The Dream always slipped away like dark silk as shuddered awake, but left her in a cold sweat. In her dream, she was always trying to get away.

The man was busy but quiet.  He and the boy were rarely in the house, except to bring in milk, do chores, and eat.  He did nothing to threaten or disturb her, but she wanted nothing to do with him or any other man.  Had she been able to think more clearly, she’d have wondered about the mother of the children, but that was too onerous a task for her addled brain.

 

 

More Travels with Mother

hotmama.https://nutsrok.wordpress.com/2016/01/05/the-low-down-on-lunch-with-mother/
Travels With Mother (Part 2)

The Most Fun You’ll Never Have, Kathleen’s Amazing Bathroom Tour!

It’s Not What You Tank!

 

God was with us.  We got to our destination, Hot Springs, Arkansas without a lot more drama.  We checked into our room, a nice suite with two king-sized beds and an extra bed for the fifth in our party.  For some reason, though it was 104 degrees, we freshened up a bit before going out to see the town, allowing us to start out with a less vintage sweat.  Within minutes, we were rank.  Not to be deterred by a little thing like heat exhaustion, we explored every shop on Main Street, till Mother found a little shop selling belly-dancing costumes. She wouldn’t be budged.  Now, as I’ve said before, Mother is tight.  She had no intention of making such a frivolous purchase, but had to admire herself in one. Every inch of the stifling shop was crammed with exotic outfits with no space devoted to dressing rooms. The proprietor obviously didn’t expect belly-dancers to be overly modest. Not to be denied, Mother just slipped her favorite on over her clothes, despite the heavy customer traffic. She is a little old church lady, after all.  I would never have expected so much business in a store selling belly-dancing costumes. 

Mother had us hold her things while she tottered and struggled into her racy choice, bumping customers at every turn.  They had to have thought her mind was gone and we should have looked out for her better, or that we were in geriatric sex-trade, pimping her out to some perverted creature with a fetish for demented, antique belly-dancers.  Neither choice made us look good.  Eventually, she pranced a bit and had us take a picture or two for her Sunday School Class, before being convinced to leave.  The store clerk was not amused by any of this, but I figured if she thought she was big enough to straighten Mother out, she could go for it.  I know when I am whipped. 

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An amused motorcycle guy and his girlfriend were taking all this in and invited Mother to meet their friends waiting on their bikes just outside. I think the burly guys exact words were, “She reminds me so much of my mama!” With him as Mother’s escort, we escaped the wrath of the store owner who was obviously thought it was past time we left.

Mother charmed his friends.  Her new friend invited her for a ride, which she refused, but she did climb behind him on his bike to get her picture made.  Regretfully, he helped her off, after telling her, “Ma’am, you don’t have to go home with these girls if you don’t want to.  We coaxed her away after she exchanged phone numbers and addresses with them, insisting they all come visit.  
Later that evening, we made it back to our hotel, only to find the air-conditioning and bathroom both out of order in our room.  Mother took charge, went to see the manager, and got us transferred to the only room they had left, the Presidential Suite, complete with a hot-spring bath.  I suspect the manager thought, “She reminds me of my mama.”  For once, a bathroom drama with Mother worked in our favor.

We enjoyed the rest of our visit.  On the way home, my sister Connie hung her purse strap on a toilet handle and broke the toilet in a station.  She takes after Mother.

 

Hard Time Marrying Part 11

 

Fatigued almost beyond bearing, Anya’s head felt as though it would burst.  Her jaw ached and blood drained from her left ear.  Her stepmother, Bessie had deafened her right years ago, but now she’d developed a deafening roar in her left.  Barely conscious, she struggled to maintain her death grip on the cow’s halter and half-walked and was half-dragged the final half-mile to the barn. Though she couldn’t hear it, the farm dog barked at her staggering approach, but for some reason didn’t offer to bite as she struggled to the barnyard. Instinct alone guided her into the barn where she collapsed on the haystack.  Old Bossie followed her in and was grateful of the opportunity to get her feed early.  Hay drifted over Anya as she slept, keeping the secret of her presence, though in her decreasing consciousness, she had no concern for anything.  Unaware of anything except pain and fatigue, she slept late into the next day.

Anya’s mind was foggy when she awoke, only aware of pain, hunger and thirst.  The beating she’d taken left her deaf and confused. She did vaguely remember trying to fire the pistol, but nothing after that.  Her raging thirst drove her from the barn.  With the pain in her jaw, eating would not have been an option.  She made her way toward the cabin, seeking water.

Had anyone been there to see her, she’d have been a horrifying specter as she fell against the door.  Wakening to find Jack licking the blood from her ear, she managed to hang onto the wall and table till she got to the water bucket.  Slaking her thirst, she dropped painfully to the cabin floor, unaware she was in the world.

 

 

More Travels With Mother

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We visited the Philadelphia Magic Gardens in Philadelphia. It is a non-profit organization, folk art environment, and gallery space on South Street in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the largest work created by mosaic artist Isaiah Zagar. The Magic Gardens spans three city lots, and includes indoor galleries and a large outdoor labyrinth. The mosaics are made up of everything from kitchen tiles to bike wheels, Latin-American art to china plates. It is well-worth a visit!

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We stay with dear friends in their gracious home when visiting New Jersey. This gate leads into their charming garden. As you would expect, the garden does not disappoint.

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Here, Mother enjoys time in the sun. As I have mentioned before, Mother is extremely frugal. I had a new experience on the way home.  Just so you know, it is possible to stow eight fresh eggs, three-quarters loaf of bread and eight nectarines in a carry on without crushing them, even if that carry on has two pairs of jeans, two shirts, underwear, a nightgown, and toiletries as well as a heavy-weight three-quarter winter down jacket Mother talked my daughter out of while we were in New Jersey. All items got home in perfect condition due to skillful packing and astute delegation.  I know you won’t have any trouble guessing who got bags through airport without egg casualties!

Mother is open if anyone is looking for a travel companion.

Hard Time Marrying Part 9

traveling-medicine-show1No mother had ever loved her.  A woman or two passed through, but none of them stayed long.  Ever since she could remember, she’d trailed Pa at his blacksmith or on the homestead though some days he didn’t speak five words to her.  As she got older, she picked up a little cooking, but neither of them did more than they had to in the house.  She was near thirteen when Bessie and her three boys moved in homestead after marrying Pa, Bessie railed at the filth in the house and set about teaching Anya housekeeping with a ready back-hand.  She wasn’t partial to the girl, backhanding her own boys just as often.  When Bessie’s baby girl was born a few months later, she carelessly handed it off to Anya, taking it only to nurse.  For the first time in her life, Anya knew love, never leaving her new sister in Bessie’s way.

Bessie remarried quickly after Pa was kicked in the head by a horse and liked Anya even less after she caught her new man looking Anya’s way.  Within a month, she’d handed Anya off to a Snake Oil peddler passing through.  He warned her not to try to get away.  “I done paid good money for you.”  Anya endured his drunken assaults and those of men who paid him for her time.  After the most brutal beating and rape she’d yet endured, he passed out from his own “Snake Oil.”  Fueled by adrenaline and the knowledge that it was now or never, despite her useless right arm, Anya dragged herself to the wagon, took his pistol from under the wagon seat, aimed at his head and pulled the trigger.  It kicked her backwards against the wagon.  Desperately, she pulled herself up, took the shovel propped against the wagon wheel, steadied herself as best she could, and bashed in his skull.  Repositioning herself, she took another go at him, knowing if he lived, he’d kill her.

With agonizing effort, she pulled his old horse next to the wagon and slid over from the step.  Fortunately for her, the horse was old and docile or he’d have never tolerated her clumsiness.  Popping the reins, she gave him his head.  From time to time she’d nod off and awaken to find his head drooping, as he rested along with her.  Urging him on, they’d travel a bit more till he sensed she wouldn’t notice his dawdling. In that manner, they traveled on through the night and early morning.  As her fatigue and pain got the better of her, she spent less and less time pushing him.  He ambled along and grazed as he pleased with no interference from her.  She slid from his back as he made his way down a little slope to a stream.  She drank beside him and crawled into the shade of a willow to rest.  Somewhat interested, he watched his fellow traveler, then began grazing further and further along the stream.  It was a good day to be a horse on the loose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Quirky Dining Adventures of My 96-Year-Old Mother

I am running a series I originally did in 2016.   Just so you know, Mother is thriving at ninet-six.

Mother is ninety-something years old and enjoys the health and enthusiasm of a ten-year-old, with a few added quirks. Let me preface this by assuring you, I don’t mean her mind is going. She hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve had the great fortune to know her. Also, I am not complaining about her, just passing on a few things I’ve learned a person will experience should they spend a little time with her.

Lunch out with Mother always starts with an understanding. I understand I will be paying unless she tells me otherwise ahead of time. Let me give you a little background. She is a tightwad. When we stop for a cup of coffee, she always holds her little yellow change purse where I can’t see it, pretends she has no change, even though it’s bulging, and asks, “Can you pay for my coffee? I hate to break a dollar for coffee.” Technically, this is true. She never said she didn’t have change. She just hates to break a dollar for coffee. If we went to a car dealership, she’d say, “Can you get this. I hate to write a check for a car.”

First of all, bathrooms are a priority at every stop. In the name of good hygiene, a bathroom visit is the first order of business at a restaurant. Handwashing before a meal is a laudable practice. As soon as we get in line for a table, or are seated, Mother makes a bee-line for the bathroom. This is not out of the norm. The minimal bathroom visit is thirteen minutes. This includes waiting in line, stepping back for anyone in distress or with children, conversation with other bathroom goers, and meditation and stall inspection time. Then she has get in line to soap, wash, dry, and inspect her hands,face, teeth, and general appearance before leaving. It goes without saying, she steps out of line at any opportunity, giving up her spot to any and all, in the name of kindness. (Kindness to the public, not her party) Eventually, she rejoins her party at the table, after we have put the server off a time or two.

As often as not, we’ve already ordered beverages, which include an iced tea for her. This implies someone else will be picking up the tab for lunch, since Mother has no intention of ordering tea. “It’s too expensive. I’ll have tea at home.”
She peruses the menu while regaling us with tales of those she observed or became acquainted with in the restroom or enroute back to the table, fascinating fare. I am not kidding. She has come back with people’s life history, including tales of running away with the circus, being born with an identical twin incarcerated in one’s body, to miraculous spontaneous cancer cures. I have no idea how she elicits these stories. Eventually, she chooses her choice of the chicken and vegetable offerings of the day, to the relief of the server, and turns her attention to the other diners.
There’s always a story. She sees someone she knows, someone who looks interesting, or someone who reminds her of her Cousin Kathleen from Virginia, and she’s off. “Remember how Cousin Kathleen always shut everything down to listen to her “bituaries” (obituaries) on the radio, and was so full of stories about all the dead people? She knew all the recent and ancient gossip on everybody and resurrected it when their obituary aired.” Cousin Kathleen did know a lot of great stories. It was interesting to hear about the spicy pasts of her octogenarian neighbors, proving there’s definitely nothing new under the sun.

Mother enjoys her food, and is a slow eater. I usually finish my meal and have dawdled over two or three glasses of tea by the time we let the server know Mother needs a takeout box. She loads it up with her leftovers, and anything left on our plates, eventually rounding up enough for two or three meals at home. “If you’re not going to eat that chicken, I’ll put in my takeout box…and if you don’t want the rest of your salad, and that roll……..”
By this time, someone in the group has confessed that they will pick up her tab, though she protests unconvincingly, just for the sake of good manners. She was “raised right.”

Mother disappears to the bathroom for her post-prandial visit, “as long as we had to wait for the check.” The check came while she was gone. She came back, totally surprised to find me paying check. “I didn’t know the check would come so soon. I’ll pay you back later…….
It’s always easy to tell I am supposed to pick up her ticket. If she intends to pay, she lets me know before getting to the restaurant. “Now don’t try to pick up my ticket. I’m paying my own today.” This usually happens when it’s her trip to the doctor or her special errand. I am content to pay for her meals forever, it’s such a pleasure to still have her company.

Quite often, a stranger, usually a man in his sixties or seventies from a nearby table insists on buying her lunch, just because they’ve enjoyed overhearing her conversation at lunch, often saying she sounds like their mama. They were “raised right.”
Another trip to the bathroom is in order before we hit the road. Another thirteen minutes, while I pay the tab and keep up with her takeout box. Finally, torn from the bosom of all her new friends, ready for the next step. ………..To be continued

My Dog’s Quirky Habit: Treasures in Bed

I’ve written before about how my little dog, Izzie, puts his treasures in our bed. This morning when I got ready to make the bed, I found he’d adapted his habit a bit. He regularly hides toys among the bed covers. In addition, he’d hidden half a hotdog and a dog snack. He also stashed half a piece of garlic toast he’d salvaged from the trash.

Fortunately for Izzie, his brother, Croc, our mastiff mix, is too heavy. He cannot get up on the bed to make off with Izzie’s goodies.

Hard Time Marrying Part 8

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Once more, Joe settled into his snug cocoon in the barn. Jack and the cats made it their business to join him.  Though he was exhausted from all the work caring for his new family, he felt encouraged.  That boy was smart.  He mimicked Joe at his work and was picking up words way faster than Anna.  Now, he was putting a couple of words together. He used cat, dog, cow, milk, eat, pig and half a dozen other useful words. He even said damn.  He’d even walked up on Joe pissing behind the pigsty and worked at getting his own little doodle out to give it a try.  That would sure help with some of them diapers.

Even though Anna still looked down when he looked at her, he’d caught her looking his way a few times.  She drew back from his touch and certainly hadn’t given any indication she wanted him in her bed.  But she had two children!  Surely she’d warm up.  She knew a wife’s duty.

Deep in his thoughts, the howling of coyotes brought him out of his reverie.  Jack went wild lunging at the barn doors as the terrified cats scattered.  What in the Hell were coyotes doing this close?  They normally shied away from a place with a dog.  Maybe they’d gotten brave with Jack in the barn the last few nights.  The”d probably jumped a rabbit, but he’d better have a look.  Getting his lantern off the hook, he lit it outdoors.  Jack was way ahead of him chasing the coyotes from the grove of mesquites he’d been avoiding, the place he’d buried Anna.  He’d been avoiding thinking about that grave.

The coyotes were long gone but Jack ignored his call, digging and growling.  Though he’d have preferred waiting for daylight, he thought he’d best see what had Jack stirred up.  The smell of death overwhelmed him as he neared the trees and was sickened to see Jack pulling a long bone from the grave.  He wretched and dropped to his knees as he realized the coyotes had dug up his dead wife.

God in Heaven!  If she was in the grave, who was in the house?

Bizarre Funeral Happenings from Buzzfeed

1. The fire at the cemetery “My great-grandmother died when she was 103 years old, when I was eight. In the middle of the ceremony, my grandmother (daughter of the deceased) leaned on the grave where a few candles were burning. Then her hair started to catch on fire, and everyone started running around trying to put it out. They even dropped the casket halfway there.” —Karine Dal Piva Menoncin

2. The lost earring

“My aunt lost an earring at a funeral, and the next day, another person she knew died, and she had to go back to the same cemetery. So, she left the wake, asked permission from the family that was in the area where she had lost the earring, and began to look for it while everyone was praying. And, of course, she ended up finding it!” —Anonymous

3. The borrowed clothes

“My friend got an urgent call to go to her mother-in-law’s funeral. When she got there, she saw something that shocked her so much that people started asking her what was going on. They were going to bury her mother-in-law with an outfit of hers that she loved, and that she had given the outfit to her grandmother, who had already died. It was eating her up inside, but she didn’t make a sound. Now she’s no longer married to the same guy.” —Ezequiel Apenas

4. The, uh, allergy attack

“My sister and I went to a funeral, and since my sister is a total clown, she startd making me laugh. You know the feeling when you start laughing a bit and it gets even worse? To cover it up, I started to cough. Then, my sister also started to laugh a lot, and to cover it up, she also started coughing. So both of us were coughing like crazy and my dad tried to make an excuse for it, saying: ‘They’re allergic to flowers… And those flowers have a pretty strong smell, right?’ Then all the old women started coughing too, until they began taking the flowers out of the room. The people started to quietly leave, and then we burst out laughing like we never had before in our lives.” —Aline Ýngratis

5. The robbery

“Once, some people tried to rob me at my great-grandmother’s funeral! I was in the cafeteria of the funeral home with some other family members, waiting to get some chicken drumsticks, with my phone in my jacket pocket. My cousin, who was there too, noticed that the guy next to me was slowly pulling the phone out, and I didn’t notice anything since I was going through a difficult moment and also really hungry. Finally, my cousin ran up and was on top of the guy, and he said he was sorry. Then he came over to his family, who was mourning in the room next to us, and his sister shouted, ‘YOU CAN’T EVEN FORGIVE PEOPLE AT OUR FATHER’S FUNERAL?” —Alice Stippe Rodrigues

6. The miniskirt

“At my great-grandma’s funeral, one of her friends, who was 70 years old and had a rather provocative sense style (I loved it), went to say her goodbyes in a miniskirt. When she leaned down to kiss the forehead of my great-grandma in the casket, she was showing everything off to everyone sitting behind her. And it wasn’t a quick kiss. I had to get out of the chapel because I couldn’t even look at my mom’s face without laughing.” —Divina Francis

7. The game of tag

“When I was 5, a classmate from my school went to her grandfather’s funeral. She and her cousins decided to play tag around the casket. Then, she had the idea to go under the casket. And then, her cousin tagged her and she jumped up. The casket flew to one side, and her deceased grandfather to the other!” —Carolina Vieira

8. “Not me too!”

“My uncle died four years ago. When it came time to bury him, his twin brother arrived at the edge of the pit and said: ‘Oh no, my brother, someday we will find you.’ It would have been a touching scene, if only this twin brother hadn’t then tripped and almost fallen in the pit, shouting, ‘DAMMIT, NOT ME TOO!’ Nobody could hold in their laughter.” —Patricia Tolentino

9. The surprise encore act

“My mother told me a story about when my great-grandmother died and her loved ones went to her wake. At that time, people would just assume someone was dead and that was it — there would be no autopsy or anything. At the wake, it started to rain heavily, and they were in the yard. Everyone ran inside and left her body there. Suddenly, they heard a door slam and when they went to go see who it was, it was the great-grandmother, cursing everyone out for leaving her in the rain. Apparently, it was total pandemonium.” —Nataly Lima

10. The wrong funeral

“My mother-in-law arrived at the cemetery and, even before entering the funeral home’s hall, she began crying, greeting people and giving them her condolences. She cried and cried, and when she was near the casket, she saw she was crying for the wrong person. The wake for her family member was in the room next to that one. After that, she burst out laughing while standing over the casket of this unknown person, and everyone started giving her dirty looks. Once she found the right wake, she cried from laughing every time she looked at the casket, because she remembered the dead person from the room next door.” —Mayara Cardoso

11. A moment of solace

“At my grandfather’s funeral, we were at one of those cemeteries that only has plaques on the ground in the middle of the grass, and some very nice mountain views. I saw my cousin walking alone in the middle of the grass. I thought, ‘poor girl, she feels so bad, I’m going to go over to her.’ I went up to her and asked if she was okay. She said: ‘Yeah, I just came over here because I had to fart.'” —Anonymous

12. The interruption

“When my grandmother died, one of my aunts lost control when my cousin began to give a speech about the Bible, talking about how it was the path that God chose for us, to live and then to find ourselves with him, etc. My aunt kept on crying, my cousin said, ‘then, God…’ and my aunt interrupted: ‘I’M GOING TO MISS HER SO MUCH’. Then my cousin said: ‘yes, moving on…’ and my aunt: ‘OH MY GOD, I’M NEVER GOING TO SEE ALICE AGAIN.’ Then my cousin lost patience and said: ‘all right people, we’ll do the burial later, okay?'” —Alice Lima

13. The meet-cute

“The pastor who was speaking at the wake was kind of a boring guy, and my mom started laughing at him. She couldn’t stop, so she went out to get some fresh air and see what was going on. There, she found a guy who had the exact same thing happen to him, and they hadn’t seen each other inside. They started chatting, set up plans to see each other again, started going out, and that’s how I was born.” —Igor Pinheiro

14. The flag

“I don’t know if it’s wrong to laugh about this, but my friend went to a wake for her uncle, who was a huge fan of the Cruzeiro soccer team, and she saw that her mother had brought her Cruzeiro flag to put on the casket. Then, before burying him, my friend took the flag off of the casket and everyone started looking at her. Then she said to her mom: ‘I worked hard to buy this flag, I really liked my uncle, but it was really expensive.” —Giovana Lima

15. The wrong party

“At my friend’s grandfather’s wake, there was a wake being held for another elderly man in the room next to ours. But they were playing music, drinking, and the people at the church for her grandfather were horrified. Then after a while, a woman came over, entered the room and called out to the people there: ‘Hey, I loved this guy so much, he was the life of the party.’ Then everyone gave her a dirty look, because my friend’s grandfather had been an evangelical Christian all his life. The woman got the idea, looked at the casket and saw that it wasn’t the person she thought it was. Then she said in a serious tone: ‘Oh, sorry, I though this was the wake for Nelson.’ I couldn’t hold it in and started laughing.” —Alice Lima

16. The party crashers

“My grandmother and my aunt were passing by a wake, and nobody in the family was crying for the deceased. They felt bad for the deceased and went there to cry for someone whom they had never seen in their lives. And the result was that the family of the dead man started giving them their condolences.” —Renata Mendes

17. The wrong type of alcohol

“When my grandmother died, my family decided that she would be buried in the city where she was born. So my mother (who goes over the top with food) decided to provide a buffet and a lot of whiskey to serve at the wake, because everything was about food and drinks. When the buffet didn’t arrive, some of my grandmother’s brothers started to ask for some drinks to drown their sorrows. My cousin was desperate, and went to look in my aunt’s house for some alcoholic beverages to serve. She found an unlabeled bottle and decided to take it over to the funeral, and everybody drank it. But then when it came time for the burial, everyone started feeling really funny, and nobody knew why. My aunt spotted the bottle, now almost empty, and shouted: ‘what is my medicine for putting on my joints doing here?” It turned out that my cousin had given them rubbing alcohol.” — Julia Salles

18. The wrong party, part 2

“My friends decided to go to my grandfather’s funeral, and by some HUGE coincidence, there was another funeral of someone else with the same last name at the same cemetery. They got there after it had already begun (there were 3 of them), and so they were towards the back and they couldn’t directly see who was there. Two of them had already gotten pretty emotional, they were crying, until the third one noticed during the speech that the person speaking said: ‘she was a great mother and woman.’ So she realized that it couldn’t have been my grandfather. She looked to the side and saw my other two friends crying, and began to tuck her head into her shirt, to try to stifle her urge to burst out laughing. Then, she managed to pull the rest of them to the side, and let them know they needed to go to the right funeral. They were able to find me and caught the end of my speech. Then they told me what had happened, and even ended up laughing myself silly on the day of my own grandfather’s funeral.” —Paula Mascarenhas

19. The flower delivery

“When my great aunt Cida died, my godmother ordered her a floral wreath. Her name was Marisa. And then, with everyone gathered there crying, the man arrives with the flowers and says: ‘does anyone know where the wake for Marisa is?!’ They guy had thought that Marisa was the name of the person who died, and not the person ordering the flowers. Everyone burst out laughing!” —Marcella Marrara Ducati Assali