Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
Recent Posts
- Try
- Becoming Brenda Starr
- Off Beat
- Scattered
- That’s It
- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
- The Spoon
- Sciatica
- Sweetheart
- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
- Yeah, I know. I have issues.
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
Mail At Year’s End
Doug’s mother got home from the hospital today, for the second time since Monday. I’m watching the clock, since she’s been back in her assisted living place for about six hours, and that’s how long she made it the last time before they found her blood pressureless and non-responsive, still holding the newspaper in a death grip in front of her face.
I’m not superstitious, you understand. I know there’s a very good mathematical probability that she’ll beat her old six-hour record and we’ll manage to stay out of the ER till tomorrow. Hey, it could happen. For today, we took our joy where we could get it—in Adele’s ten days worth of accumulated mail.
Doug’s sister Lynn wheeled her into the apartment and Doug got her situated in her recliner. Then she asked for the freakin’ huge stack of mail she’d witnessed them hauling out of her box. Some people live for money, others for power, and many for pleasure. Adele? She lives for junk mail.
Since we, her heirs, have only recently cut our own inheritance by two-thirds through the process of dejunkmailing her apartment, it behooves us to keep as much paper from entering therein as possible. Because folks, once it finds its way onto her couch, kitchen table, bookcase headboard, or TV tray, it becomes a part of her. She can’t distinguish the good from the junk, and therefore will part with none of it.
She opened a Christmas letter from a supposed friend today and started reading. Two pages of single-spaced typewritten annual news. After a few paragraghs, which Adele read aloud to us, she asked, “Who is this FROM?” Then she turned it over and said, “Jan? Do I know someone named Jan?”
Doug, Lynn, and I started chuckling, but Adele was not deterred from catching up on Jan’s life.
“She’s gone to visit her daughters, Charlotte and Renee. In Colorado. The girls came to Kansas City over Thanksgiving, this says.”
“But do you know a lady whose daughters are named Charlotte and Renee?” Doug asked.
“No.” She used her index finger to track along the page, reading aloud to us. “She says, ‘I sat by the pond on our old property and watched the Canadian geese land on the water and then fly away again. I bet I watched them for a whole hour.’”
OK, people, when an hour spent watching the geese gets top billing in your annual Christmas letter, you’re either very old, extremely boring, or Henry David Thoreau. Somehow, I figured Jan didn’t live on Walden Pond.
“Oh, no,” Adele said. She’d read under her breath for a few seconds while the three of us rolled on the floor. “It says here Ira died.”
“But we don’t know anyone named Ira,” Doug said.
“I do,” Adele said. “Nicest fellow you’ll ever meet. And his wife? Lovely woman. Marian is her name.”
“How do you know them?” I asked. “From your old neighborhood? Or maybe from church?”
Suddenly, the lights came on. “They live here!” Adele said. “Well, now it’s just Marian. Ira died. Says here they were married 68 years.”
I didn’t say anything, but I couldn’t help thinking Marian’s hour of geese-staring got him.
“I’m confused,” I said. “If this letter is from Marian, who is Jan?”
Doug took the letter from his mother’s hands, turned it over, and melted into a puddle of holiday cheer. “Marian’s gone to Colorado, all right. Her last line says, ‘See you in Jan!’”
If I don’t post much in the next few days, you’ll know why. I’m either staring at the geese on the pond next door, or I’ve decided to see you in Jan.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
- Merry Christmas, Katy. God bless you.
And hey, next year I want one of those whole wheat loaves, okay?
Love yaPosted by Suzan on 12/22/06 at 12:35 PM - merry christmas mom!
see you in jan.Posted by kevin on 12/22/06 at 02:12 PM - Suzan--OK! I'll trade you one whole wheat for one of your Irish Soda loaves. But, we have to spend at least one entire day making the trade. These things take time. :)
Kevvie!! See you in Jan, too. Are you in Austria by now? Call us, like on the 24th, if you can!! Love.Posted by Katy on 12/23/06 at 03:24 PM - Katy,
I just read your story and relived the whole incident again! I had to stop laughing and dry my eyes before writing this comment! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to laugh all over again!
I don't comment much (maybe once?), but just know that I read your blog all the time, and love how you capture the family stories!Posted by Lynn Raymond on 01/11/07 at 02:59 AM
