ID
I love caller ID. At work, it keeps me from wasting valuable time with salespeople. At home, it saves me from much more. And the fact that my home answering machine talks to me, keeps me from even having to stop the gourmet feast I have in progress to look at the phone. True, I don’t always understand the computer-generated voice, but I’ve learned to translate. “Ed Vilo Vilo” actually means “8-0-0.” In other words, it’s a 1-800 number. Salesman. Don’t answer. “Hope” and “Mars Hill College” want money. True, I went to MHC and think it’s a great school, but I don’t have money to send them. Again, don’t answer. “Name Un-a-val-a-bl.” If the name of the joker calling is not available, neither am I. I get calls from all over the country: Oregon, New Hampshire, Houston,...
Ghost
Chris was a preschooler, only four or five, when he decided to be a ghost for Halloween. Good mother that I am, I sewed a real costume. No simple sheet for my child. I fashioned a white tunic for him that slipped over his head, elastic around the neckline, and long sleeves, with a separate hood that went to his shoulders and had holes cut for eyes and mouth. Pretty scary looking! On Halloween night, after putting on his costume, Chris decided it billowed too much. He didn’t want the fabric getting in the way while walking through the neighborhood trick-or-treating, so he tied a short rope around his waist and set out, looking very ghostly, we thought, in the dark. One of the homes we visited was that of a teacher from his preschool. She seemed truly...
The Locket
It was gold and heart-shaped with delicate designs etched on its front. My dad gave the locket to my mother in 1943, two years before their wedding. He was in Army basic training in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where he bought it from a small jewelry store for the love of his life. The locket opened to reveal two pictures, that of my dad on the left side, my mom on the right. I don’t know if the pictures were taken in 1943 or in 1945 when they wed; they’re both gone now so I can’t ask. But the pictures were of them, nonetheless, reminders of another day and age and of the love they had shared from childhood. While growing up, my sister, Debbie, and I cherished the times Mother would allow us to wear her locket. It was only on very special...
Recent Comments