Posts Tagged ‘ daddy ’

The Crepe Hangers

Tuesday, June 26th, 2012

The Crepe Hangers

A couple I know that I secretly call The Crepe Hangers, say to me as we are leaving the coffee shop, “Do you realize the three of us only have ten to fifteen years left to live?”

Not in my book.

A few days ago I’m walking with my daughter and I say something like, “When I get old I’m going to hang spangles out of my nose.”

Summer laughs but not at the spangles. She says, “Mom! ‘When I get old’ is something a forty-year old would say!'”

She laughs and laughs.

Later, a man friend tells me, “We have to pay $1700 to put my 101 year old mother’s ashes in a grave we own! It’s next to her first husband. Plus we have to pay ¬†extra money for other things just because we’re putting her ashes there. In the grave we have owned for years!”

I say, “Just scatter her ashes on top of your dad’s grave and save the money.”

I think he is horrified with what I think is a reasonable idea.

My mother, I tell him, is still in her fancy box on my hall table. My cleaning lady doesn’t know that’s my Mum in there & she is always stacking books & what nots on top of her. (more…)

I Know Who The Real Cowboys Are

Sunday, May 13th, 2012

A Real Ramona Cowboy

There’s a stone house across the street from my brother Jim’s Mobile kitchen and I am gazing at it. It has been there since before I was a kid. The lady who washes my windows and skylights lives there now.

A man walks to the mobile kitchen’s ordering window. He is tall and big and he is a “Real” Cowboy. He is not a Pretend Cowboy who may dress and act like he’s just off the ranch for a hamburger. There are a lot of those kinds of cowboys, but this man is for real.

He wears a slouchy old cowboy hat pulled down around dark hair that is splattered with gray. A blue kerchief bunches up around his sun-wrinkled neck. He wears an old faded shirt, well-worn blue jeans, and cracked boots. He smells like horses and he spits in the bushes.

He makes me think of other real cowboys in my town.

When I was little there was Valley Mitchell. He was a cowboy with a huge lump on the side of his neck that he kept covered with a kerchief. As the lump grew, the kerchief grew. I was enthralled as I watched his swelling grow more massive every year. (more…)


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