Remembering My Mom….

Of all the people in my life, my Mom was the only one that remains completely without fault in my mind. I’m sure that she wasn’t perfect. Who is? But, she was a wonderful mother who taught me to laugh at just about anything and everything if life. For this, I am eternally grateful. My Mom has been dead for 20 years now. Some days, it seems like I just saw her yesterday. Other days, it seems like I’ve been all my life without her.

I don’t what what triggered this memory. It’s a silly one of a brief moment…..one that you never expect at the time that you would emember  for  20+ years. It makes me wonder just what silly little thing will TrailerParkSkipper and TrailerParkMidge remember about me.

We had been shopping in a local discount store. My Mom was looking for a lamp shade that day.  She had spotted one or two that she liked but wanted to shop at some other places before she bought one.

It was almost time for TPSkipper to come home from school so I hurried Mom to the checkout to pay for the few things that she had decided to buy. That’s when I spotted a book on one of the checkout counters. I read the title….”Poop Boy and A Long Way From Home”. I pointed it out to my Mom and commented on the crazy title. She burst into laughter and I, for the life of me, could not figure out what was so darn funny. Then, she reached over and move the book just an inch or two, showing me that I had misread the title.

It was actually “Poor Boy and A Long Way From Home“.

Years later, I told this story to my daughters. Just like me and my mother before me, they have a silly sense of humor. Poop Boy became a tag for reading mistakes. Whenever TPSkipper reads something wrong (or I do), I look at her and say, “Poop Boy!” and we both crack up.

That was the last shopping trip that I ever got to take with my Mom. She died shortly after from cancer. When I think of Poop Boy, I can still hear her laughing. I miss that ol’ girl. She was the funnest person ever!

Yep….that’s the stuff of which memories are made. I wonder what my daughters will remember about me?

Fudge Man, Bill Cosby, Speedo Guy….and ME!

A couple of weeks ago, hubby  (aka Mr. Excitement) and I took a trip to The Outer Banks of North Carolina……Nags Head, Kill Devil Hills, and Ocracoke Island.

Mr. Excitement’s idea of a vacation is to get in his Tahoe (aka Pimpmobile) and drive as far as possible without  me finally giving up and peeing all over his seats. After hours of pleading and begging for him to stop at a QuikMart or Mobil Gas to let me frequent the ladies room, he will finally relent when I start yelling, “OK, Buster, you’re the one who’s car is going to smell like pee if you don’t stop NOW!”

The first night, we stop at a very nice, brand new Holiday Inn where I spotted Bill Cosby!!!!!

Quit Taking My Picture, Fool!

He sitting on the patio with a glass of wine and reading “Spanish for Idiots”. I was disappointed that he was not eating a  big-ass bowl of jello pudding! Well, at least I thought it was Cosby until I closely examined all the pictures that I snuck and took of him with my cellphone. This was tricky…..the cellphone photos. While sitting in a nearby chair, I casually positioned my cellphone in his direction while trying to look the other way and be inconspicuous. Immediately, I sent them to TrailerparkSkipper’s cellphone to one-up-her. She and TrailerparkMidge had gone to Hilton Head about 4 days before and I was having big regrets about not going with them. BUT, I wouldn’t never admit that so I was on the look-out to prove to them that I was having more fun than they were…….which was probably the biggest lie that I had told since I told Mr. Excitement that I had not gone to the bank and gotten extra money the day before we left. Come on, girls, y’all know exactly what I’m talking about.  It’s “in-case” money. In case something actually cost $200 instead of the $100 that you tell your hubby. “wink wink”

Mr. Excitement decided that we should eat dinner at the Holiday Inn’s restaurant instead of going across the road to Cracker Barrel which is what I wanted to do. So, we ended up paying $45 bucks for hamburgers, fries, and coffee.  Why don’t men ever listen? We could have had the same thing at Cracker Barrel for about $20 and I could have used the $25 we saved to buy some delicious Buckeyes, some peppermint sticks, and a John Deere T-shirt!

Anyway, at dinner, I asked our waitress how far we were from the ocean. I knew we were in trouble when she said that she did not know but would find out. First, she asked the bartender who was also in the dark about the distance. Then, she went to her manager and asked him. He was kind enough to come and tell us himself. “You are about 3 hours from the ocean.”

“WHAT? Did you say 3 hours”, I asked while staring daggers at Mr. Excitement who had said we were about 30 minutes from the Atlantic. THREE HOURS!!!! Well, there was really nothing that we could do about that so we went to our room and went to bed. The next morning, we got up early and started on our way. I was excited because I had not been to the Outer Banks in a long time. I fondly recalled the last time that I was there……standing on the largest sand dune on the east coast, wind blowing my tracks in the sand away as soon as I made them. I remember watching the people gliding off the dune and thinking profound and wise thoughts about God and life. Remember this….I’ll be coming back to it shortly.

As we drove toward the ocean, it got hot…and then hotter….and then Hell’s temperatures. It was 99 degrees outside. Oh lordy, I had forgotten how damn hot it was there. We finally arrived in Nag’s Head and spent 2 hours driving up and down the road because Mr. Excitement didn’t want to stop and ask for info. I could see the blue waters of the Atlantic ocean and was dying to deep my toes in it.  But, we kept driving….and driving. Finally, with another threat of peeing in the car, I talked Mr. E into stopping at a little shopping center and going in. I was hoping to get something cold to drink and find a clean potty to use. I found the potty and was greatly relieved that I was not going to have to wear pissy pants around the rest of the day.  The little shopping area was comprised of about 6-7 small shops. One was a fudge shop and there was a very pretty Asian girl standing outside offering samples. I love fudge but for once was not in the mood for it. But, not wanting to be rude, I went in for a sample. It was not good. It tasted like something from a Vegan bake sale. She asked if we wanted to buy some and I politely told her “not right now, maybe later”. Little did I know that this would result in the guy working there harassing us. He followed us down the wooden walk saying, “What? You’re not going to buy any?”. I again was very polite and said, “No, we haven’t had lunch yet”. Meanwhile, Mr. E. is going to the car leaving me there with Fudge Guy. I ducked into a T-shirt shop just to get away from him and when I came out, he was waiting! “You could buy some for after you eat your lunch”, he practically yelled while spittle flew from his lips. “No, thank you!”, I said becoming somewhat annoyed.

“Why? Why don’t you want any fudge?”, he angrily asked me.

This was getting scary/annoying/kinda funny all at the same time. I wanted to turn and say something threatening to him but to be honest, the giggles took over. So, I made a run for it to the car in that damn 99 degree heat.

“Start ‘er up!” I screamed at Mr. E. I jumped in the car and locked the door. “Let’s go!”, I was out of breath and sweating like a lounge lizard in an Jersey shore night club without air conditioning. As we burnt rubber getting out of the parking lot, I could see Mr. Fudge Man mouthing something at me. I’m not the best lip reader in the world but it looked like “Buy some mothereffing fudge, cheapskates!”

Come back here and buy some fudge!!!!!!

Soon we spotted the gliders coming off the big sand dune and Mr. Excitement drove in that direction…and then back…and then in another direction….and then back. You get the picture. FINALLY, we entered the park where the sand dunes were. All was well. I was no longer cowering in the back seat afraid Mr.Fudge man had managed to tail us with a fudge sample tray and a machete’ and I was no longer angry at Mr. E for driving up and down in front of the same 20 beach houses a gazillion times.  No, I was feeling at peace with the world….wise and profound. The DUNES called me. I could be one with the world. Mr. E parked and we got out of the Tahoe and………OMG! It was soooo hot. As I walked across the asphalt parking lot, I could feel the sweat beading around my head, my armpits, my lower back, between my booobs, and everywhere else on my body (I’ll save ya from the “other parts” details). Mr. E started in the direction of the path to the dunes when he noticed that I was not behind him. I had decided that a quick trip into the air-conditioned info center was in order. So, Mr. E came with me. I meandered around pretending to read and study all the sand exhibits and wildlife info while soaking up the cool air. Upon arriving back at the beginning of the presentations (how sand dunes are formed) for the 4th time, Mr. E suggested that it was time to get on with “my dune thing” so we could be on our way (driving…more driving….etc). So, I relunctantly left the cool air and went back outside. Now, I was beginning to feel a little bit of adventure and was looking forward to communicating with nature and the peace that I remembered feeling from the sand dunes. We started up the path and….OMG, it was so hot! The sand filled my sandals and….OMG!…that sand was HOT! We continued up the path until we had the big dunes in our vision on one side and the people gliding off dunes on the other side. And…it was so friggin’ HOT!. This picture is obviously of an alien kid. No human child would b wearing a jacket on a sand dune that is HOT…HOT…HOT!

Alien Child?

I decided that I could communicate with nature a whole lot better in an air conditioned car and suggested to Mr. E that we do just that. “But, what about your yearning for the feel of the wind on the sand dunes?”, he had nerve enough to ask.
“I’ll take pictures from the car as we drive by them”, I said while practically trotting toward the Pimpmobile.

Turning the AC on high, I realized how over-rated communing with nature is!

Then, we headed toward Ocracoke Island of which I, also, had very fond memories. A ferry is the only way to get to Ocracoke (unless you own one of the multitude of huge boats that went whizzing by while we were on the ferry). While waiting in line to board the ferry,  I noticed a man on a bicycle whizzing in and out amongst the cars. He was wearing some really strange clothes. He had on a long t-shirt and it appeared that he had no pants on. You’ll hear more about him in a minute.  As we drove the Pimpmobile onto the ferry, I had flashbacks of feeding the seagulls and other birds. I remember standing at the railing with wind softly blowing my hair and giving me a come-hither-sailor boy-look.  So, as soon as the ferry started to move, I jumped out of  the car and hurried to the side of the ferry. And….OMG!…it was hot! But, that was OK because I knew that soon I would feel Aeolus, the Greek god of wind, blowing softly through my (now sunburnt, dried out, in desperate need of conditoner) hair. However, unbeknown to me,  Hephaestus, god of fire had been the crap out of Aeolus in an Indian leg rasslin’ match earlier in the day. Hephaestus had chosen to toy with this mere mortal by directly sending unbearable rays of heat onto the top of my head which totally messed up my desired hair-blowing-in-the-wind-come-hither-sailor boy-look by making my sweat glands work overtime. I couldn’t even see the damn seagulls through all the water rolling off my forehead and into my eyes. Without thinking, I lifted up my shirt to wipe the rivulets of sweat out of my eyes, thereby exposing my Hanes My Way 100% cotton bra to 3 teenage boys and a mother with 2 small children.  The mom quickly moved to block the scene and the 3 teens started giggling and pointing.  Hubby had been on the other side of the ferry and happened upon this scene after I had put my shirt back down. He asked me why those boys were pointing at me and giggling.  I did the only thing that I could think of and told him that they weren’t acting like that until he showed up. I said that prehaps they found it funny that he was wearing long jeans (in that heat) and 1980′s style sunglasses.

I began to come to the conclusion that time makes all past experiences a hellova lot sweeter/better than the events actually were. Either that, or my body could adapt a lot easier to Hell’s furnace 20 years ago.

Trying to salvage this ferry trip for wistful thinking in the future, I started looking around for something else interesting. To my surprise, there was the pantless man right across from me. HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY!!!!! Something to look at!!!!! He had a small trailer hooked to the back of his bicycle and a large printed sign on the front that said 3ameriques, supporter of the day 10 and some other stuff. He was taking pictures with a very nice camera with an extremely huge zoom lens. I have been in the market for a good camera w/zoom and so , I went over to talk to him. OK…that’s not the whole truth. I did go over to talk to him but actually, it was because I wanted to see if he was wearing any pants. The camera gave me a good conversation starter. I went up to him and started asking him about his camera equipment and his bicycle journey (while trying to nonchalantly check out his below the waist attire). It turns out that he did not have pants on but did have on a tight Speedo. His junk was totally outlined. His legs were the color of boiled lobsters, apparently, from shedding his pants earlier in the day. Here are actual pictures that I took of him…….

He was very interesting. He spoke with broken English and when asked where he had been so far, he proceeded to draw a map on the dusty back window of the Pimpmobile. Mr. Excitement was a little peeved knowing that he would be driving with a map obstructing his rear window view for several hundred miles but in the spirit of world peace, kept his mouth shut. I got a ten dollar bill out of my purse and handed it over to Speedo man while pointing to his Supporter of the Day sign. I certainly didn’t want him to misinterpret the gesture. He could have thought that I was enjoying seeing his outlined junk in the Speedos which would have been totally not true. Although, this experience would not have made nearly a good story if he had on pants.

The ferry reached the island and we drove off onto the narrow road.  We drove about a mile and found a small conveniece store and went in to buy some cold drinks.  As we got back in the car, Mr. Excitement turned to the right which was the way back to the ferry. I told him that he was going the wrong way and that Ocracoke village was to the left. This is when he informed me that it was his plan to go back to the ferry because it was getting close to dark. This perplexed me a great deal. Had he heard some urban legend about Ockracoke vampires? When I inquired as to WTF he was doing, he told me that he wanted off the island before dark because….get this….he could not see after dark to drive. WHAAAAT? I had been driving after dark with this man for a long time and he chose to tell me right then? Of course, this does explain why he kept veering to the wrong side of the road and making turns so sharp that it’s a miracle that I don’t have a door handle permanently implanted into my side.  Fine time to tell me, don’tcha think????? I suggested that I take the wheel. Y’all would have thought that I had offered to off his granny or something. No way that he was going to let me take control of his Pimpmobile.

This is getting way to long so I’ll wind it up now. We drove back onto the ferry. This time, the ferry was so full that cars were just inches apart. I couldn’t even get my door open to get out. I watched a gorgeous sunset over the ocean while planning my next trip. Alone to somewhere shady and cool!

Doorknob Dancing and Biscuit Boobs…

 

I was thinking about my oldest sister today. Her name is  was Christy. She was the oldest of five children from my mom and dad. I have step-siblings and such but no need to go into that right now. Christy died two years ago from complications of recurring breast cancer. We did not see each other a whole lot in the last five years or so. More stuff that I won’t go into right now. But, lately, I’ve realized how much my sister taught me. She was 12 years older than me. I learned several things from her.

I learned how to dance by watching Christy. Christy would turn on the radio, tie a scarf around the doorknob and dance away.  I’m sure that in her imagination, that doorknob was some dreamy guy that adored her. I can remember that door opening when she really got into her boogie-woogie. She would waltz right over and shut it and continue dancing.She didn’t care that I watched her. I might have been her audience. Maybe, she was on American Bandstand and was hoping that I’d nudge Dick Clark to single her out for a close shot. Who knows? I never asked her what she was thinking about. But, I do know that she was thinking of something. Because, several years later, I can remember playing volleyball with the side of our house (when my dad wasn’t home to holler at me about tearing up the siding). I imagined “insert name here of latest heart throb” and his cool friends watching me spike that ball and all of them cheering and shouting my name. Then, at the end of the game (which my team always won, of coure), he would run over and give me a big, fat, juicy kiss and beam at me proudly.

Don’t even act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!

Christy also taught me about breast augmentation……the original. She had her friend, Willie, spend the night and they would be up in her room giggling and talking. Sometimes, she would let me come in and sit on the bed. I’m sure that she thought of me as just a baby who didn’t understand anything. What she didn’t realize was that I had a good memory and idolized her. I, also, was good at imitation.  One weekend, Christy and Willie were in the bedroom talking about boys and about this other girl named Drema that they apparently thought of as a slutty girl-who-would-go all the way with the boys.   Christy was really pissed off at Drema for going out with a boy that she had a crush on. Willie, being the good friend that she was, decided to tell Christy a secret about Drema that she had heard from her brother who had heard it from his friend who had heard it from a guy in class…..and so forth. You know how that goes. Anyway, according to Willie, Drema stuffed her bra….with……OMG!…..biscuits.  Yep, her mama’s buttermilk biscuits! According to the “reliable source”, a guy told his friend (who told his friend who told his neighbor…..here we go again.) that when he was getting to second (or is it third?) base with Drema, something rolled out of her sweater…..a buttermilk biscuit. I wonder if he ate it? Hadn’t thought of that before. Well, being easily influenced I figured that boys would like you if you put biscuits in your bra. And, I WANTED A BRA TO PUT A BISCUIT IN!!!! But, when I asked my mom for a bra, she laughed and said that I needed one ’bout as bad as my brother did and refused. I swore that when I got big enough for a bra, I would load that sucker up with biscuits! Of course, when I got old enough for a bra, I realized that this was a totally ridiculous idea.

Thanks, Christy for all the life lessons. But, you should have told me that no doorknobs would be available at dances. I spent half the night at my first dance in the bathroom dancing with a stall door!

On the Highway To Hell Because of Circus Peanuts?

 Yummy, yummy, oh so sweet circus peanuts.

I wrote an entry last week about my sister’s baptism. And, it got me to thinking about my own. I was 11 years old when I was baptized into the Church of Christ. I have since become a die-hard Baptist. And, I believe that one baptism is all that is necessary…….if it took.

The day that I got saved and baptized my mom had gone to the grocery store. She had bought a bag of circus peanuts. This was, indeed, a very special treat for us since we were seriously poor. I thought about those yummy candies all day. She was going to give them to us after church service that evening. The church was having a revival with a special speaker and it was “have to go” event.

At the end of the preaching, the call for unsaved to come forward and be baptized went out. I went up and was pronounced saved. In this church, baptism took place immediately after the service. So, I went back to a changing room and changed into the baptism robe. The preacher dunked me a good one and their were lots of “Praise the Lord” and “Amens!” being shouted.

My mom was so proud of me that she gave me the WHOLE bag of circus peanuts which I ate right in front of my brother’s and sisters. Now, I ask you……was that a very Christian thing to do? Torment and taunt poor lil’ children who were salivating until they looked like they had been dunked, too?

Now when people talk about their baptismal experience, all I can think about is circus peanuts. This has me wondering…….did the baptism take? Did the Lord understand how much I loved those circus peanuts?

Wondering if I need a do-over? If I do, there will be no candy involved. I refuse to spend the rest of my life connecting baptism and circus peanuts!

Hunky Joe and Rooster…..A Love Story

The room was furnished with two beds, a curtain drawn between them. “Hello, is anyone in here?”, I asked. I heard the familiar voice of my Uncle Joe say, “Yeah, come on in.” I pushed the curtain aside and saw a frail, weak and almost lifeless woman lying in the bed. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was my Aunt Ruth. Her health had been going steadily downhill for a couple of years..She had been in the nursing home for about 4 weeks and I had not been able to bring myself to visit her. I knew that I had to go. So, I spent the morning pumping myself up for a visit.

Although, her appearance was rather shocking, something else caught my attention. Uncle Joe was sitting right by her bed and from his appearance, he had been there for who knows how long. Always neat in appearance, his shock of solid white hair was sticking out in the back. His jeans were pressed as they always were but the wrinkles in the pants legs told the story of many hours of sitting.

My aunt Ruth had the nickname of “Rooster”, lovingly given to her by Joe when they married over 55 years ago. In turn, she teased him with the name of “Hunky Joe”. Hunky is considered a degrading term by most Itailians but when Rooster called him that, he would just smile.

I laid the bag of peanut butter Hershey’s kisses on the bedside table and sat down. “How long have you been here today, Joe?”, I asked. Rooster spoke up and said, “That ol’ hunk’s been here since 7:00 this morning. He brought me a donut and gravy and biscuits”.

“Well, he must have been anxious to see you today,” I laughed as I said it. “No, he’s been here everyday at 7 and has stayed until I go to sleep at night, ” Rooster replied.

“Hmmm….he must have the hots for ya or else afraid your gonna find a boyfriend here.” I replied. Hunky Joe just sit in the corner chair looking at his bride and smiling. That’s when it hit me……he did have the hots for her. Not hots as in sexual hots. Hots as in deep, lasting, once in a lifetime love and devotion. A love that got them thru the deaths of two children early in their marriage. One stillborn child and one 4 year active little boy that they had doted on. He was running with a knife and ran it threw his eye. He died. They were broken. But, they grieved together and came out stronger in their relationship than ever.

As we sat there, Hunky Joe on one side and me on the other side of the bed, I knew in my heart that we were not seeing the same person. I saw the one on the bed that was old and wrinkled. Not Hunky Joe….he saw his dynamic, beautiful wife looking as she did when they were newlyweds beginning a lifetime together.

Where I saw a mane of wild, uncombed white hair, he saw the sassy redhead that she had been. Joe said, “We’re waiting on the nurse to come and bring a bedpan”. Rooster said, “I don’t think I need it anymore. It’s too late.” I looked at Joe wondering if he was embarrassed or horrifed by her saying this. But, his adoring gaze had not changed one bit. “Do you want me to go and get someone?”  I asked. “Nah, they’ll be here. This happens 3 or 4 times a day”. No disgust or annoyance showed in his face or voice.  The nurse came and we left the room for a few minutes.

“Uncle Joe, how much are you coming up here”, I asked him. “Well, I get here about 7 every morning and stay with her until she goes to sleep at night”, he said. “Are you eating? Do you ever leave”? My mind couldn’t grasp the fact that the only time that he was not there sitting by her side was while they were sleeping…in different beds in different places.. And, I knew that he felt an enormous about of sadness not hearing her breath beside him at night. And I knew that was the way it was going to be from here on out. He would come and sit by her side always.

We went back in. Her diaper had been changed. Hunky Joe acted like that was completely normal and maybe, it had become that way. I know that his heart had to be breaking into a million pieces but he would not dare let her see him as anything but strong. I watched him. Just watched him looking at her. Her hands were wrinkled and her fingernails unkept. I knew that he did not see that. He was seeing the polished nails on his elegant wife’s hands as they rested on his chest when they danced until the wee hours in the morning in Hawaii.

Her pj top had come open at one of the buttons revealing saggy, white belly skin. But, not to Hunky Joe. He was seeing the taunt, muscular stomach of his best friend and fishing buddy. All the times that they spent in their little boat fishing and talking with her  and looking at her sun-bronzed skin.

As he sat, he would tenderly pushed her hair back from her face or move her arm that was in a cast to a different position. I felt a huge well of emotion inside me. I knew that I was witnessing a true love story…..one that you usually read about in books or see at movies. I felt almost like a voyeur.. So much devotion to each other. They had never spent one day apart until she started getting ill. Then she began to fall. First break was the tip of her spine, then one arm, then her tailbone, next was 3 breaks in her pelvic area. She had just came home from having surgery the nite she fell a couple of weeks ago and borke the pelvic bones. Joe had put her to bed and gone to take a shower. After showering, he opened the door to peep in on her in the bed. But, she was not there. He found her lying helpless in the hallway.

Now, she is in the nursing home. My energetic aunt known for cooking up great pastries and Ialian dishes for her family and friends was helpless. As if she read my thoughts, she said, ‘Ol Hunky’s making his own cakes now.” They exchanged a look of tenderness saying something to each other that I was not privy too.

I stayed for a couple of hours. And, when it was time to leave, I bent over this frail woman and kissed her forehead. I asked Joe if he wanted to walk out with me. “No”, he said, I’m gonna stay and tuck her in and make sure she can go to sleep”.

As I walked out of the room, I turned back for a last wave. Hunky Joe was bent over Rooster talking to her in a voice soft and full of love. And, I knew that as I left the room of white-haired, wrinkled lady, he was staying with his little redheaded, energetic firecracker.

Thank you, Rooster and Hunky Joe……you let me see what real love is and I will always remember it.