I spotted an UMP, an Upwardly Mobile Plant, while walking. I have to admit I don’t know the difference between weeds and wildflowers. Maybe it just depends on where they are. Not more than five minutes from the house were some tall plants in a rock garden, the rock garden being a bunch of large stones scattered above the ditch. One substantial weed/wildflower had attained its height over the past few weeks. I was amused that lavender morning glories had climbed the weed and were making more of a visual splash than the small white blooms. I’m not sure of the interpretation. Was one plant taking advantage of another, a victim in today’s parlance? Or was this a joint venture to present a living bouquet to roadside viewers? In any case, I have enjoyed the show.
John’s Uncle Howard, 97, died in his sleep last night. As recently as two weeks ago he recognized John’s cousin Harold on the telephone, so he was quite sharp almost to the end.
We met Howard when he married Aunt Kay, both in their mid-60’s at the time. The first thing we noticed was that he loved Kay deeply. They had many years to enjoy each other and travel before she had a stroke, and he took care of her until her death. Howard had no children of his own, but he was a much loved grandfather to Kay’s grandchildren.
He was a man of faith and a man of high principles. Within an hour of meeting him, you’d know that he was dedicated to serving others in his church and that he was a Navy man, through and through. He was a Pearl Harbor survivor, one of the last living ones in Memphis. He was always available to talk about Pearl Harbor to groups, especially school children. He became a pilot in the Navy and a stock broker after retirement.
My children remember Howard as a fun person who insisted on being addressed as sir. He came from Indiana, but the sir came from Navy discipline and years of living in Memphis. You didn’t give him a naked yes or no. It was yes, sir and no, sir. Adhering to standards made the children respect him without lessening their enjoyment of him.
We saw Howard one month ago and suspected we were saying goodbye for the last time. He had a hard time placing us, but he said all the socially correct things. He was caring and disciplined to the end.
I was chatting with college friend Bonnie a few minutes ago and mentioned that John’s uncle had died.
“Was that Howard?” she asked. “I’ve heard about him for years.”
That’s when I knew I should let everyone know that their e-mail acquaintance had gone to his eternal home.
After a friend read about our keeping the two boys across the street one evening, he asked, “Where were you when my kids were little?”
I thought, “We weren’t fun then. Now we have a closet full of Nerf guns, thanks to grandsons David and Nate. The LGB (not to be confused with LGBT) trains stay on the porch, and we keep a supply of balloons to play with. There are two radio controlled cars, one of which is mine. A bowl of nuts and one of M&M’s stay on the counter, something I would never have done when our children were young. There is also an unlimited supply of soda, and the boys know where to get it. Thankfully no one has abused that. The fellows here don’t know that we also have millions of Lego pieces in a box.”
I just realized what all this means. Did you think of it before I did? This is the documentation that we have officially entered our second childhood! Do you want to come over and play?
The neighbors across the street were going to a wedding, but the baby sitter they had lined up for Logan changed her mind. We were happy to have the lively 5-year-old and offered to pick up teen Dennis from work. What could I find to feed us on short notice? Our menu was candy, pie, and cake. Read on; it’s not quite as bad as it sounds.
Logan almost immediately said he was hungry. Trying to act responsibly, I asked him to wait until dinner. The boy tried again with John as soon as he came in with Dennis. The pseudo grandpa walked straight to the M&M bowl we leave on the counter.
“So that’s where you keep it!” Logan exclaimed. Perhaps Dennis had mentioned candy at home. Old man and little boy counted out ten M&M’s.
I was rolling out pastry on the counter. If you had a bit of meat from the end of a spiral cut ham, some eggs, cheese, and onions, what would come to your mind? All I could think of was quiche, so a pie with meat in it was our entrée. Was that too fancy for boys? Not if you saw how they ate it.
One satisfied customer
The green peas were duly counted out – 20 down Logan’s hatch earned him a little chocolate cake. Wonder of wonders, he didn’t finish the cake because he wanted to have a Nerf gun war with Dennis!
After a brief shoot-‘em-up, we settled in front of the TV to watch “Frozen”, one of the videos Dennis brought over. If the fellows were bored, they didn’t show it. Although I didn’t choose it, I was happy to see a film that had been popular. Better late than never.
We made our own video clip showing one bit of fun from the evening.
Our neighborhood watch had nothing to do with crime. We were standing by for death. Beloved neighbor Ron had a running battle with COPD, one he knew he was not going to win. His wife Amy let us know from time to time when he had a setback. Each time he bounced back, but never as high as he had been before. We were used to seeing him on the porch, tethered by a tube to a concentrator to help him breathe. It was a pleasure to stop by and chat with him. He had a wonderful sense of humor and was a great storyteller in the old Southern tradition.
Anne, Amy, John, and Ron
We hadn’t seen Ron on the porch for over a week. When John spotted a red emergency truck leaving, he called Amy. She explained that Ron was slipping into a coma, and the end was near. The closest three households were in contact, keeping each other up to date. We were all praying for Ron and his whole family.
Two days later Amy sent a text, “He has gone home.”
I couldn’t speak, but I showed John the screen. Ron was at peace, no longer struggling for every breath of air. He died at home, exactly where he wanted to be at the end, surrounded by his family. Amy texted, “It was so beautiful and peaceful. We were singing and praying with all of us at his side.”
Highest accolades go to Amy. She didn’t complain about caring for Ron. When we moved here a year ago, she was free to come and go. Gradually her errands were shorter, and she no longer went to church. She was tethered, not by a tube, but by love. Ron urged her to go out, knowing outside contact was good for her. Several times she did and was recalled quickly when Ron had an emergency. Amy fulfilled her marriage vows beautifully on a daily basis. She lives her faith, and I stand in awe of her.
Is there a funny side to death? No, but there are amusing things that happen. John saw the comings and goings in the street as he sat at his computer. I refrained from looking too often, because that smacked of peering around the curtains. I didn’t want a self-label of nosy neighbor. A car from the funeral parlor parked in the drive. At that time, John asked about our dinner plans.
I said, “If you were a subtle person, I’d think you were trying to get me away from the front window.”
He looked at me quizzically. I said, “Because you know I’d be itching to take a picture. I usually take photos of big events.”
I wouldn’t blame him if he rolled his eyes. For the record, I took no pictures. It brought back a telephone conversation I had with the executor of my dad’s estate. Margaret said, “Garner picked up your dad from the hospital.”
I thought, how nice of him to pick Dad up and take him home. Of course I was dead wrong. I suddenly realized Garner was the name of the funeral home. Duh!!! Dad was no longer alive, and he was not going back to his home. Talk about the speed of stupid! It’s slower than you think.
As John and I ate on the back porch, I saw the big black vehicle drive up the street.
My heart said, “Goodbye, Ron. I loved knowing you, and I will miss you. I’ll be here if Amy needs me. See you soon.”
I responded to the call of the creek, as I usually do, and almost couldn’t get there. The parking lot of the fire station was a mess as it was being prepared for paving. It seems odd that they would work one day before the Labor Day weekend and just walk away from the job. They must be confident that nothing will move in their absence.
The creek was low but flowing freely and sounding bass notes. Not so the tiny streams near our house! I couldn’t even see, much less hear, anything from the first one. Coming back when there was more light, I saw a trickle that made no sound. The larger of the two was only marginally better. Where would one protest this lackluster performance?
We came back from running errands and were surprised to see a new structure near the corner of our entrance road. Whipping my head around, I saw those neighbors sitting on the new porch only a few feet from the front porch of their house. John O told me they hired a crew from Tennessee to erect it. We saw none of the action, so it was like magic to find a new building appear while we were shopping at the supermarket. It is a two story shed! We had seen something like it at Lowe’s and thought it could be made into a tiny house. Do you suppose they might use it as a guest cottage? We’ll have to wait and see.
Neighbor Ron is not doing well. We were surprised when the doorbell rang and hoped it wasn’t anything to do with him. It wasn’t. A delivery man handed over a gorgeous vase of picture perfect roses. Stunning! We’ve had many surprises, and the day is only half gone.
When Chrissie and Chris drove off, the house sighed. I felt the ceilings seemed a bit less tall because a lot of exuberant life had left. Thank heavens son John $ stayed a bit longer, so that not all the air went out of the house at once.
$ took Chrissie and Chris on a mountain hike. Their repeated comment about the excursion was, “Perfect.” You can’t improve on that! The only warning I heard ahead of time was that there was a stream they’d have to cross. Since the water was fairly low, they were able to cross on exposed stones and didn’t get their feet wet. They saw breathtaking views, streams, and waterfalls.
Chrissie said, “The blisters on my feet didn’t come until we were very near the car.”
We had dinner at $’s and my favorite Mexican restaurant. They live in a rural area upstate New York and rarely have a chance to eat ethnic food. I am the double beneficiary, inheriting Chrissie’s box of leftovers. If only they had been here longer, we could have found Indian cuisine and a sushi place!
One of the first things Chris and Chrissie said when they saw our porch was that they wouldn’t mind sleeping there. Chris lived part of that dream by sleeping on $’s porch one night. $ lives on the side of one mountain, with a fantastic view of another from his porch.
I was excited to find Chris would eat the local specialty, livermush. That was on the menu for breakfast, along with bacon and sausage that the others would eat. Chrissie had the perfect answer when Chris asked if she liked livermush. She thought a minute and said, “I would eat it in someone’s home, but I wouldn’t order it in a restaurant.”
The travelers were heading for Pennsylvania before going back to New York. We let them go after extracting a promise that they would come back.
What would you call a meeting of relatives who have never met each other? It wouldn’t be a reunion. I guess I would just label it “tremendous fun”. As John’s first cousin Peter put it, “These people were just names to me. My mother kept me abreast of family news, but I hadn’t ever met them.”
Peter had come from Illinois to North Carolina for a meeting of dulcimer enthusiasts. He has written fairly extensively about the instrument and Swedish hymnody. You can read one blog post here. After the event, he came to spend one night with us, seeing our home here for the first time. That one night turned into two, much to the delight of us and the younger set.
Peter playing the dulcimer
Our niece and nephew from upstate New York swung down this way on their vacation. Our son $ wanted to reconnect with Chrissie and Christopher, Chrissie being his first cousin who grew up next door. Those three always enjoyed each other. So there we had three from the older set and three from the next generation. None of the young’uns had ever met Peter. I figured out the one person they all had in common was John’s mother. Mom was Peter’s aunt, and grandmother to Chrissie and $.
Chris, Chrissie, and John $
What fun it was to see the connections begin to form! Peter and the (almost middle aged) youngsters had an instant bond with music. They were speaking a common language when they talked of singers and groups. The young set went for a hike as Peter packed to leave. He said he hadn’t known what to expect from these unknown relatives, but he found himself relaxing and enjoying them tremendously.
John $, Chris, John, Chrissie, Peter
I wish I could remember all the things we shared and the laughter that rang out from our screened porch. It’s certain the neighbors were aware that we were having a marvelous time together. Dennis, across the street, brought us cake he had made himself and had a chance to meet our fun relatives.
I do remember the last story Peter told. His mother’s sisters (I think I have the right group) were visiting a church where the song was “Bringing in the Sheaves.” They sang with gusto, and an older man near them asked “What words are they singing?”
The song says, “Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves, we shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.”
What did those girls sing? “Swinging in the trees, swinging in the trees, we shall come rejoicing swinging in the trees.”
I shared with him the words my dad sang for “Brighten the corner where you are.” As a boy, his version of the gospel song was, “Fight in the corner where you are.”
All too soon Peter was on his way, taking one of the extra barbecue sandwiches from our meal on Sunday. Pulled pork is one of the things both he and I missed from our childhoods in Tennessee. He came from one end of the state, and I came from the other. You’d never know we shared an upbringing in the same state. He sounds mid-Western, and I have a modified mid-South accent.
John, the historian in the family, wanted to see the recreated Lincoln funeral train on display at the Spencer Shops. Unfortunately, for reporting purposes, I opted to visit with my brother Bob and Beth. John came back with enthusiastic reports of the lovely detail on the funeral car and exclaimed over the hundred or so people in period costume. He thought the exhibit was so exciting that every school child in the state should have gone.
We were supposed to have dinner with our niece, but she was too ill to see us. Instead, we crashed a church dinner party that Beth and Bob were hosting. What delightful people were there! This group of eight had eaten together three or four times as part of an effort for more people to get to know new members. During the first gathering, they discovered one couple had played golf with Beth’s parents. Also, one of the men had known my brother because each had coached a softball team in the same town. There was lively conversation all evening. Before the group dispersed, Bob offered to play the saw for them. He has played for various church groups, but these folks hadn’t heard him. I took only one photo, and it isn’t the best, but you might be able to see Bob holding the saw.
We have lived in North Carolina one full year, but there are many things we haven’t learned or experienced yet. I was sure I had discovered the largest mushroom I’d ever seen in the grass by the side of the road. Out came the toy camera. Click went the shutter. I included the toe of my shoe for size comparison, wanting to be as scientific as possible before calling a botanist.
On closer inspection, the mushroom turned out to be a very common thing around here – litter. Who knew a paper plate could look like a giant pseudo mushroom? No doubt there are things growing in, on, or under it, but I’m not interested in a taste test.
My name is Suki, my human is a writer, and this is about my world. The world according to Suki The Cat. My humans smell funny, look weird, and I can't understand a thing they say, but they feed me, so hey, what are you gonna do?
Mehrling Muse 