What's in a Name Anyway

Pictured: Dad (ar), me (ar), Cousin Carl (er), Lisa (er), and Bernice (er)

The misspelling of my name originated on a cool Fall New York day in November of 1939. In a stupor after birthing her fourth child, my grandmother misspelled her own last name on the birth certificate.

Grandma Masler

Not being prone to the execution of a plan, she never bothered to get around to changing it, my father's birth certificate. So it was I found myself 84 years later arguing with the night clerk at the hotel in Elmira.

"It's spelled ER on the form," she says. 

"But I spell it AR," I say. 

To which she responds, "But it's ER."

I calmly explained that my cousin made the reservation and that she spells our last name with an ER; we spell ours with an AR.

With that, the clerk stapled the receipt to the invoice, looked me dead in the eyes, handed me my room key and firmly said, "You guys better get on the same page."

As if. Anyway, I was just relieved the old battle-axe let me have a room. 

Soon after checking in, we caught up with my cousin, a NY State Supreme Court Judge and there it is rubbed in my face again, his name - our name - on various plaques spelled with the ER. 

Who would you believe spells it correctly -- a state supreme court judge or a little country grandma?  However, in this picture, the ARs outnumber the ERs. So there's that.

Anyway, the name you answer to matters much more. Here's to Pookie. 

Classic Arcade and Pinball Museum

So I drove to Charlotte North Carolina because Papa wanted a pumpkin pie. Upon delivery, we decided to find some fun and get into some mischief.

We crossed the mighty Catawba a few miles upstream from where I usually do and crossed the South Fork Catawba with a nod to McAdenville Lake, took a hard left at Lowell and crossed Duharts Creek. I pointed the nose of dad's Carolina blue Camry toward Cramerton and let my lead foot have at it.

Arriving at our destination, we entered the Classic Arcade & Pinball Museum, squinting  eyes adjusting to the darkness and blinking lights of the pinball machines.

"You're going down, old man." I spoke prophetically under my breath.

$15 later, we had our free play all day wrist bands on, talking smack and making a bee-line for the 1976 pinball machine.

Dad had a bad start. "Now I know why we got ride of our pinball machine." He muttered.

That was always a mystery to me. We had a pinball machine in our dining room in the 70s and I never knew when or how we got rid of it. It just suddenly wasn't there anymore. We moved to Charlotte and my attention turned to Pac Man at the local Putt Putt. OK... maybe Johnny, Danny and Cory were the real draw at Putt Putt if I'm being honest.

Two long aisles containing 80 games kept us busy. For pinball we played Dr. No, Maverick, Honey, and Spirit of 1976. At some point, dad was given a stool to use and carry around. One hand had the stool; the other, his cane. He's a beast.

We also raced cars, shot guns, played basketball and a bowling game. We had two very good Nathan's hot dogs throughout our visit.

I was the over-all winner. Y'know, if we were competitive like that.

Closed M, T. Opens at noon. 

3210 Union Rd., Gastonia, NC

(Half hour drive out of Charlotte)

Charlotte family fun.

Things to do in Charlotte.

Best Homemade Cheesebread and Cinnamon Rolls

So I crossed the churning Catawba again after a month of rain to spend some time with the Pops. My sister and brother-in-law were out of town again leaving dad unattended and I thought it was a good time to step in and get into some mischief, as we are prone to do.

After popping in to various classes in the Healing Arts program at Levine Cancer Institute which is a fantastic program, I focused all my attention on dad. A trip to Sam's, Dutch Blitz at my brother's, cleaning dad's house, that sort of thing.

Suddenly, we had the brilliant idea to bake some bread. It was chilly out and the smell of bread rising and baking would be out of this world.

We stuck some cheese in the bread before baking and made cheese bread. Then I had some leftover dough so we made some cinnamon rolls. It all turned out SO good! And just in time for my brother to stop by for lunch.

And you probably guessed it by now..... a surprise visit from Cousin David.

This recipe makes enough dough for both projects.

1/2 c milk

3 Tbsp. butter

3 Tbsp. sugar

2 tsp. salt

2 pkgs yeast

1 1/2 c warm water

5 1/2 c bread flour

Scald milk and butter, then cool in fridge for a few minutes. Add sugar and salt.

In a large bowl, put yeast and warm water, mix well. Then stir in your milk mixture. Add flour. Knead well and let rise until nearly double in size, maybe an hour.

Divide dough in half.

With one half, make the cheesebread:

Roll dough out into a rectangle. Place in a casserole type pan with half the dough hanging over the edge outside the pan. Cover the half that's inside the pan liberally with shredded cheddar cheese (maybe 12 or 16 oz bar of cheddar cheese). Fold other half over cheesy half and seal the edges.

Let rise again for about an hour.  Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. Let it cool a bit before cutting into it or the cheese will melt all over the place.

Cinnamon Rolls

Using the other half of your dough, roll out into a rectangle.  Spread a melted stick of butter over the dough.  Spread sugar and cinnamon to your preference over the butter.  I used a half container of cinnamon and maybe 1 c sugar.

Roll the dough into a log.  Cut into slices. Place slices on a baking sheet or casserole dish. Bake at 350 for 20 - 30 minutes. Check them and remove them when the tops start to brown.

Enjoy!  (Cousin David did)

NC Accessible Waterfalls

 If you just want waterfall info, skip a few paragraphs.

Tossing my backpack in the rear of the Jeep, I climbed up behind the steering wheel and drove off in a Northwest direction, Casey Kasem giving me the top 40 countdown from 1977. The sounds of Fleetwood Mac, Andy Gibb, Rod Stewart and KC and the Sunshine Band carried me through the SC countryside.

I crossed the Little Saluda and braked hard at Bojangles. With my biscuit firm in hand, I zig zagged along the Saluda River and took a hard right North bound over Mulberry Creek. I caught my first glimpse of the Blue Ridge Mountains just prior to crossing Little Crowe Creek.

I took a nail-biting left at a hairpin turn at the notorious Bad Creek. Pulled over to take in the scenic view with some leather-skinned bikers, nodded Chevy Chase fashion and rolled on in to Cashiers NC.

I narrowly escaped all the gift shops and art galleries and motored out the other side towards a condo rental on Lake Toxaway where I later discovered both a waterfall and sunrise were right off my balcony. Being an early riser, every day was a new delight.

Family members descended and unpacked along with me, marveling in the luxury of this high-end condo, we of the hillbilly heart.

First on our agenda was an afternoon of waterfalls. Well, after lunch slope-side at the bottom of a dry ski slope. We drove out of Cashiers on 64W and visited four roadside waterfalls, mostly accessible for the elderly.

Bridal Veil was first with a small parking area. We could walk under the falls and we enjoyed stretching our legs. Wheelchair accessible. 

Dry Falls was next. Large parking area with an outhouse. There was a beautiful view of the falls just a few steps down a ramp, wheelchair accessible. Beautiful view where I first discovered the flowers of the Mountain Magnolia tree. (Fraser Magnolia)

There were ramps and steps to go down to the falls. At 60, 70 and 80 years of age, we avoided that.

Next on the route was Quarry Falls. There was room on the edge of the road to pull over, but no real parking area. We had to climb up rocks, 4 or 5 steps, to get a gorgeous view. The 84-year-old with a cane could not handle the rocks, but the rest of us easily did. Not wheelchair accessible.

And the last falls of this journey was Cullasaja Falls. Again, no real parking area, just pull over roadside. Beautiful view again, but perilously near traffic. Not wheelchair accessible due to traffic. I mean, you can try...... 

We went on into Highlands, NC and did a little shopping.

The next day found us taking a waterfall boat tour on Lake Glenville, a thirty minute drive out of Cashiers. It is expensive, but worth every penny. This was the highlight of our trip. In the first week of May, it was very cold on the lake, but the captain had warned us, so we were prepared.

Captain Mark is an excellent tour guide. He told us about lake history, the bald eagles that nest here every year, and all about the nature of the Highlands Cashiers Plateau. We saw eaglets peeking out from a huge bald eagles nest.

Captain Mark motored us around four private waterfalls that can't be seen any other way. We ended the tour and went to lunch at Happ's Place for the excellent Sunday Buffet featuring the best prime rib ever.

With full bellies, we hit the road back to Cashiers to find Whitewater Falls. The gps was a little off, but thankfully there were signs pointing the way. There is a 1/2 mile paved uphill trail to another view of beautiful waterfalls. There were 153 steps beyond that to a second view for those so inclined. The 20 and 40 year old in our group took the steps and reported a great view. The 60 year olds just went up the walkway to the first view. The 70 and 80 year olds waited in the car. Theoretically, you could push a wheelchair up to the view, but it would be difficult and you'd risk them getting out of control and rolling back down hill. So I'd say NOT wheelchair accessible.

After Whitewater Falls, we went back to our luxury condo overlooking the falls and relaxed for the night. All in all, this is a great itinerary for those who don't want to hike much.

If you like hiking, check out Gorges State Park. There is a tiny hike to Upper Bear Wallow Falls, but I only went halfway because I was alone and I thought a bear might get me. So I backed out slowly. Of course nothing would compare to the bear we saw up close in Alaska.

If you want to extend your trip, visit Brevard, NC and Pisgah Forest. 

All of these waterfalls can be found on your gps maps. 

Enjoy!

Work Snacks, Changes and Links to So Many Memories

Being a stay-at-home mom, I never pursued a career as a vocation (“a person's employment or main occupation, especially regarded as particularly worthy and requiring great dedication.”) I ended up working a variety of temporary jobs when the kidswere in school and when we needed a little extra cash.

I loved the mixed experiences of different jobs, however, I am also a creature of routine. I would establish routines at each job, one of which regarded my snack. Looking back, I realize I established a snack at each job that I would consume daily at work and almost never consume any other time or place.  Each snack is now reminiscent of a particular place and time.

Currently, I’m in my Bazooka Joe years at Aiken Standard. That momentary sugary pink bliss that so quickly turns into jaw-exhausting, solid dense rock-like clump. And the comics and fortune in the wrapper!

I’m fond of my Jolly Rancher days at Samaritan’s Purse in Charlotte. It was a seasonal job for a few years and I would have a dish of jolly ranchers on my desk at all times for others to enjoy as well. But secretly I kept all the blue ones for myself. I remember the beautiful, uplifting music playing while we worked and this one co-worker who got all excited every. Single. Time. That Anne Wilson’s “My Jesus” came on. We would all get wound up on that song.

“… He makes a way where there ain't no way
Rises up from an empty grave
Ain't no sinner that He can't save
Let me tell you 'bout my Jesus

I worked for Jackie when she began her law firm, working just until she could find a permanent secretary (Connie) and that was my 3-Musketeers season. There was another lawyer who would visit and eat my Musketeers. So one time I saved my wrapper and filled it with a Pink Pearl eraser then resealed it with glue. Sadly, I wasn’t there the day he chose that Musketeer bar, but I get a lot of joy thinking about him opening it up in his car as he drove away. I'm weird like that.

McDonald’s was my earliest job and they invented the chicken nugget while I was working there. I had McNuggets almost every shift I worked. Also, of course, nibbling on a hot fudge sundae every time I worked the drive-thru.

When I worked for a month in Ireland, Cadbury caramel and Galaxy chocolate bars were my thing. And I toyed around with hot tea, but that was mostly for show.

Rollos were my candy of choice while working in Boone one cold Winter. I have such fond memories of driving up on the parkway for sunrise before work, then hitting it for sunset after work, Rollos tucked in the cup holder of my Jeep.

I could go on,  you know it, but enough about me….

What about the White House? Do they have snack routines that change between Presidents?  I turned to Google and to www.whitehousehistory.org/the-presidential-sweet-tooth to find out everything you need to know.

Probably the most popular is Ronald Reagan’s fascination with Jelly Beans. Many pictures of White House meetings feature a jar of jelly beans front and center. And it wasn’t just the White House. Back when he was a lowly Governor, the Herman Goelitz Candy Co sent his office a monthly shipment of jelly beans and they made him a customized jelly bean jar.  I didn’t get any customized jars for any of my snacks. I’m sad about that.

Most unusual was in 1984 when President Miguel de la Madrid of Mexico visited the White House. The executive pastry chef created cactuses out of kiwi sorbet filled with tequila-flavored mousse and decorated with pulled-sugar flowers and spines. You can’t really call that a routine though, I just threw that in here as a bonus.

The routines were as follows:  Clinton, gummies. FDR, rock candy. Carter, peanut brittle. Obama, salted caramels. (more on Obama here) (and even more here) Bush, fried pork rinds. Jefferson, ice cream. (Remember when you all screamed for ice cream?) George Washington, chocolate. (Remember when Marjorie passionately talked to herself about chocolate?)First recorded order was for 20 pounds of it in 1757. His largest was 50 pounds in 1799, three months prior to his death. Don’t you know as they recorded that information they wondered who on earth would be interested in this?

I don’t know what President Jackson’s favorite was, but one time a dairy farmer sent him a 1,400 pound brick of cheese. He let it age for two years and then invited the public to come eat it. Maybe cheese was his routine snack, but probably not after that one.

What’s your routine snack?

PS.  Read about my worst snack. Good times.

The Day Charlie Slept In

Part One.

It was a bright sunny Spring day when I pulled up to Charlie and Benji's house. I always take them to school on Wednesday mornings, but this Wednesday didn't seem like every other one.

When Benji walked out alone with his lunch box in one hand and his backpack slung over his shoulder, it was confirmed: this was not a normal Wednesday.

Charlie was missing.

Benji's mom followed him out carrying his science fair project. "Charlie is not coming today," she announced. "She is sleeping in because we had a late night at Rebecca's baseball game." I nodded my approval.

After loading his backpack and supplies, Benji climbed up into the passenger seat of my Jeep. I shut my door and turned the ignition. I was still confused. This didn't feel right. We needed Charlie. I shook my head and whispered, "This isn't right, this doesn't feel right." Benji just stared out the window.

Feeling uneasy, I took the first turn and sped up a little. I went into the second turn and as I accelerated out the other side I realized I couldn't do this. I threw it in reverse, turned around and went the other direction. "What are you doing??!" Screamed Benji.

"Don't you feel it?" I asked. "This is not a normal day. We are not going to school without Charlie." I sped up heading East.

I parked outside Nona and Pops. "We're going to need some pocket waffles," I declared.

The bell jingled as we opened the door. "Good morning!" Nona called out. "Good morning!" Pops followed.

I was firm. We need some pocket waffles. Charlie is sleeping in today."

Charlie is sleeping in today echoed all across the town. Even the Mayor heard about it.

We climbed up in the Jeep again, pocket waffles and all, Benji's feet sticking to the floor mat where he had previously spilled pancake syrup on a different trip.

I took a hard left and headed North. The Mayor shouted behind us, "Is it true?!" I yelled out the window, "Yes! Charlie is sleeping in!"

An hour later the sun had risen to our right and our bellies were full. I hit hard on the brakes and pulled into a decent parking space. There aren't a whole lot of people at Stars and Strikes early on a weekday morning. In fact, we were the only ones.

We exchanged our shoes, picked out a ten pound ball and happily entered Lane One. Benji set up our score sheets on the computer on account of I can't operate that technology and before long, we were bowling! WE gathered more ten pound balls, one for each lane, and we proceeded to throw a ball down each lane, walking straight down to Lane Twenty and then working our way back to Lane One again. As fast as we could. Back and forth, slipping in our clownish bowling shoes.

Within ninety minutes we were worn slap out. We put in an order for fries and a coke, exchange dour shoes again and went into the video gameroom. I pulled four rolls of quarters out of my back jean pocket and we began playing. Within another sixty minutes, we had enough tickets to win a large purple hippo which Benji had to carry to the Jeep on account of my back was hurting from all the bending, throwing, pushing and pulling.

It was approaching noon, so I pulled the Jeep Southwest and put the pedal to the metal. We hummed along towards Augusta coming to a full stop at Top Golf. Leaving the hippo in the backseat, we entered Top Golf and secured us a hitting bay with a working ceiling fan and HDTV. I lounged back and propped my feet up while Benji took a few swings. I put in an order for Tres Tacos and a basket of Donut Hole-In-Ones. Eventually I took a few swings and we prepared to leave before 2:00.

The hippo was napping so we kept the radio low as we headed a little Southwest. I had one more stop to make before school would be out. Benji let out a big "Whoop!" as we pulled into the gnarly parking lot of the aging Frankie's Fun Park. I couldn't resist saying, "I feel the need..." and Benji responded, "The Need for Speed" and we high-fived. He tried to fist bump, but we grandmas still high-five.

We each got our own go-cart and revved our engines, side-by-side. The dude waved the flag and we were off. I learned a long time ago to keep my mouth shut when going fast, but young Benji hadn't learned that life lesson yet. He had his mouth wide open, laughing and screaming and then BAM! A bug flew into this mouth. His foot came off the pedal, his go-cart slowed down. Mine didn't. I took advantage and zoomed off to the finish line, securing the victory! He came limping along slowly, spitting and gagging and wiping his mouth.

"Hurry!" I yelled. "We have to go, we can't be late!" We jumped into the Jeep and drove fast and furious in a Northeast direction, mostly East.

We pulled up to his house at 4:10. As he grabbed his lunch box and backpack out of the back, I stage-whispered, "Leave the science fair project in the Jeep!" 

His mom came to the door with Charlie behind, bed-head hair sticking out, "How was school?" She asked.

Benji smiled. "Best day ever!" He turned his head and winked at me as I slid the Jeep into gear.

Part Two

It was a bright, sunny spring day when Pookie pulled up to Charlie and Benji's house. She always takes them to school on Wednesday morning, but this Wednesday didn't seem like every other one.

When Benji walked out alone with his lunch box in one hand and his backpack slung over his shoulder, his mom, Patti, knew this was not going to be a normal Wednesday. She waved good-bye and walked back into the house. She helped Oliver get dressed and fed, then she woke baby Niall up and did the same for him. It was a good two hours later now, so she woke Charlie.

Charlie sprang up in bed with her hair poking out, "I'm late for school!" She ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"Slow down," her mom chuckled. "You need the rest. Today is National Charlie Day! We are going to celebrate YOU today!"

Patti, Oliver, Niall and Charlie jumped in the van and headed to Nona and Pops. The bell jingled on the door as they entered to find Nona calling out, "Good morning!" followed by Pops, "Good morning! We heard you were sleeping in today."

Mom and Charlie got some pocket waffles with sprinkles and they loaded back up in the van. "First," Mom said, "We are stopping at the post office." Charlie took the mail key and ran in to get the mail. There on the top of the pile was a letter clearly addressed to Charlie. She ran back to the van, "Mom! I got a letter from Eva!!" She tore it wide open and Niall said, "Bah!"

Charlie read and re-read and read again her letter from Eva and began doing the puzzle Eva created for her while Patti drove the van East. As they passed the Mayor, he shouted out, "Charlie! You're awake!" Charlie gave him a thumbs up out her window while her hair blew into her mouth. Niall turned toward the window, "Bah!" he yelled.

They were on hour into the drive when Patti pulled over to refuel. "Charlie," She said firmly, "Here's twenty dollars. Go into the store and spend it all on candy. It's National Charlie Day!"

Charlie went up and down the aisles, back and forth. She grabbed two of everything she loved.

For the next hour of the drive, Charlie at her candy, did her puzzle and shared some candy with Oliver to which Niall sighed, "Bah!"

The van slowly rolled to a stop as it glided over a sandy parking lot. Mom put Niall and Oliver in the wagon and covered them with chairs, towels, buckets, shovels, water wings and a large, striped umbrella. Charlie pushed while mom pulled that full wagon through the sand dunes, arriving at the shoreline twenty minutes later.

It could be heard up and down the beach, "It's National Charlie Day!" as people squealed and jumped in the surf.

After a few hours, Oliver was sunburned, Charlie's candy was all gone or melted and the umbrella had inverted itself in the wind. They loaded up the wagon. Charlie pushed while Mom pulled and they trudged back to the van for the two hour drive West.

The boys slept while Charlie read books and played on mom's phone until the van slowed down in the crunchy parking lot of the mall. Charlie led the way as the whole bunch of them headed in. There were balloons and banners with Charlie's photo hung all around the mall. "It's National Charlie Day!" Not a single person said she should be in school.

Walking into Build-A-Bear, mom plunked a wad of money down on the counter and said, "I'd like three of your best bears." Then Ollie, Niall and Charlie began building their very own bears. Charlie's had a lot of pink and a big pink bow in her hair. She had purple and pink stripe legs with silver glitter all over.  Ollie's bear was dark blue with puffy white paws and a monster truck in it's paw. Niall bit the nose off his bear, spit it across the room and said, "Bah!"

Sixty minutes later, Charlie led her brothers back down the mall, bears tucked securely under their arms. She stopped by the Pretzel Store and bought a pretzel for all of them. With mom's money, of course,

The people in the other stores all waved good-bye saying things like "It's National Charlie Day!" "Hey, here's some candy!" and "I love your bear, Charlie!" The whole way out, one person after another, cheering them on.

"Hurry!" Mom said, "We have to be home by 4:05 before Benji gets back from school!"

She put the hammer down and oh how that minivan zoomed! They careened around the corner and slid to a stop at Nona and Pops. The bell rang as they walked in, "Good afternoon!" called Nona. "Do you want the Charlie Day Special? People love it!"

"Yes, four please," Patti said as she plopped down a wad of money.

They each got a double scoop of the Charlie Special with sprinkles and gumballs on top, except for Niall, he got just a baby scoop with no gumballs. "Bah!" He yelled.

They drove back home and walked in the back door as Pookie and Benji were pulling up to the front door.  They ran through the house, opened the front door and called out, "Benji, How was school today?"

"Best day ever!" said Benji and mom winked at Charlie. Ollie smiled while Niall grinned and said, "Bah!"

New University City Branch Charlotte Meck Library

University City Branch Library

5528 Waters Edge Village Drive, Charlotte

Opened February, 2025

So I crossed the swollen Catawba some 50 miles before it pours into the Wateree. We were four weeks into Puxatawny Phil's winter extension and I had one foot solid in my 6th decade of life.

I criss-crossed the interstates, exited on a six lane highway that used to belong to an old sod farmer and squealed to a stop in what used to be my mom's driveway.

Dad jumped in, pulled in his cane and buckled up.  "Where we going?"

"The libary."  (Leaving out the middle r.)

He perked up. "The new one?!"

"You know it." I hit the gas.

The University City Branch of the Charlotte Mecklenburg Library just opened in a brand new location, 38,000 square feet with over 60,000 books, magazines and more.

We took my niece and nephew along to give the library a run for it's money to see how well it holds up.

It held up well.

In addition to common Library features, this one has laptops patrons can check out to use in the library.  They have a lot of events offered, including a yarn, hook and supplies exchange on March 16th at 2:00.  AARP is currently set up to help seniors do their taxes.

I love the little coves where you can sit and read in a semi-private area.  Also, I love the booths by the back window that overlooks the lake.

And get this, when you put a book in the drop box, it is automatically scanned, credited as a return on your account and sorted by genre. Like magic.

After I checked out my books, I found the kids in the non-fiction section and dad in a comfy chair reading a magazine. I swooned when the kids selected piles of books AND had their own library cards. Shucks, I'm so proud. 

Grief Update

Daylight was barely breaking as I crossed the Saluda and was full blinding me by the time I crossed the Catawba. Charlotte traffic was mild at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. 

With time to spare, I pulled into Starbucks. With the creamy caramel sliding over my tongue and with my magazine before me, I opted for my phone and jumped on Facebook.

And there it was: Shine on my beautiful child.  A message from mom in the form of an ad. That's SO perfectly something she would say, I could hear her voice in my head. It took my breath away.

I accepted the words. Had she been here, she would have spoken them. Now that the shock and disbelief have passed, the tremendous longing for her is intense.

Does she know I'm shining on? Does she know we are soldiering on? Does she know I feel her love and pride every single day? She left me such a treasure. ❤️

I'm in Perfect Health... Except....

Sitting on a swiveling chair, I so casually said "My mom died this year," and I added "Unexpectedly" as if that explains everything.

The doctor glanced my way and, upon some mental calculation that I was not breaking apart, turned back to her computer. I can see her thinking... Okay. Mom's dead. Let's check that off our list.

I wanted to grab her sleeve, her sparkling white medical coat, her RUXINGX Smartwatch constipated with its information of her steps, her heart rate and her deep sleep patterns.

"No!!" I wanted to say. "It's not a box to check on MyChart that will spread out among states and doctor's offices.... blood pressure is good, weight is high, mother died, no allergies to drugs. "

"No, I beg you, this is important." I want to explain. "I haven't taken a breath since the end of June."

The doctor examines me. " Let me listen to your heart," she says, pulling out her stethoscope and squinting her eyes. She pats the examination table, "Hop up here."

Yes, an examination table, I think. That's what I need. Listen to my heart. It broke June 18th. It was in a slow decline for a week and then boom, broke, just listen!

I breathe deep, several times. She listens and nods accordingly, "Yes that's good!" she nods.

"No!!" I want to scream. "Don't you hear? Nothing! Nada. Empty heart. Didn’t you hear me?? My. Mom. Died.

I can't say this. My voice catches in my throat. My body betrays me and seizes up.

"OK then," she helps me off the table like I'm a tottering old woman.

"See you in six months!!" She cheerfully smiles. I am speechless. Really? 6 months? I'll be better? Six more months without my mom and you think I'll be fine.

I tuck the appointment card in my purse and hope. 

In Which We Bring Back Cousin David....Again

So. I crossed the N. Edisto and much later, the Saluda and Broad, hung a hard left and later crossedtheCatawba at 751 feet above sea level in search of CousinDavid.

I found him in a corner of my dad's house in a city of 2,400,000 bringing in the new year. He looks low-key, but watch out. He's a real hum-dinger after midnight. He's just subdued here in a mashed potato, ham and apple bread induced stupor. And? You might notice he has aged a decade. But don't say anything.

Speaking of hum-dingers, 2024 was a rough one. We ushered 2025 humbly bowed in prayer after prayer. I hesitate to say this, lean in close and I'll whisper. I think '25 will be a good year. I know, right? Look at me, allpositive and everything.

I have to say that 2024 did produce something good.... baby Niall!

Such a happy baby! Like 2024 is the best thing that ever happened to him.

But back to CousinDavid.

He brought me some eggs from his chickens. Rain or shine, holiday or not, he delivers. In a fluke of Brilliance, CousinDavid sold his city house and moved out to the country since you've heard from him. He chases snakes and all.

Between the eggs, the Tacky Tour and New Year's Eve, we spent a lot of time together. It was so fun to see him again. And I know my faithful readers have wondered where he's been. So here's the tea.

TheLittleMissus has kept him busy out on the new farm, ain't she a keeper?!  She's my favorite on account of how we endured a doosie of a situation together one time.

The Surgeon Dug Deep and Stirred Up More than Cataracts

The bright hot white light in my eye was borderline painful, there was no color kaleidoscope from the refraction of instruments or scrubs. This was cold and harsh, bright, dramatic and imposing, hostile.

I felt no euphoric relief from the IV, just a sense of impatience running through my veins .

"You're doing great." The surgeon would try to speak soothingly. He would quietly request an instrument or firmly issue a directive focused solely on the eye before him, the eye that would sob hysterically in the motherless recovery room

The nurse responds to the anesthesiologist as they discuss Christmas plans.

I cannot possibly hold my eye open with that bright beam overhead. I'm sure I'm not doing great, just great.

The nurse pushes my cot through the halls to the recovery room. I want to scream as we pass the prep rooms just to scare the patients about to endure this. I think it would be funny. I resist the urge but grin nonetheless.

The tears explode fast in recovery when my body reconciles debilitation and my motherless status.

Mom. I want my mom.

I whisper it and gasp with the shock of the reality that I won't ever see my mom again in Earthly form.

The nurse runs to my side anxious, confused

"What's going on?" 

"My mother died recently," I tried to say, "And she was always here for me." The lack of her presence at my recovery takes my breath away.

The desolation of nothing but bright light followed by the desolation of a dark client empty recovery room was too much. 

I broke.

The nurse wheeled me out to my daughter's car, Marjorie, my mother's namesake. Her eyes melted with compassion, "What," she whispered. 

"I miss my mom."

She nodded, reached over and tucked my loose hair behind my ear and slid the car in gear, wiping a tear from her eye. "Let's get you a Starbucks coffee."

Mom always got me a 3 Musketeers bar, but... OK!

I slide the old timey large, dark sunglasses on over my bandages and accept that I'm the old person now.  

Hold 'Er Tight, Dad

I'm in the passenger seat of a '93 silver Chevrolet pickup truck with the wind blowing my hair into my eyes and my dad beside me, hands firm on the wheel.

"She's strong," he says.

"WHAT?!" I scream over the wind and loud engine.

"I said, 'She's strong,' I have to hold her tight."

I'm taken back 46 years earlier in an even older pickup we called Sanford where our positions are reversed. I am at the wheel; dad, the passenger, windows down.

"Hold 'er tight," he tells me. "She'll want to pull to the right."

He is teaching me how to drive on a stick shift pickup. I am 14 years old and I have to stretch my legs full out to reach that clutch. 46 years later I still drive a stick, still stretch full out.

Since mom passed, the two of us remain, still side by side trying to survive, still loving an old vehicle, an old pickup.

Mom was so mad when he bought Sanford, mainly because of it's color -- chartreuse, but also because it was so old. The stick shift didn't bother her, she was tough, I get it from her. And she could drive anything, including my motorcycle which she crashed into her own Mustang without leaving my driveway, her mother swinging on my front patio, yelling at her. Otherwise, she drove good. I mean, normally.

Mom broke her wrist that day, requiring surgery and it never recovered well. She broke her other wrist years later, also at my house, when she missed the chair she meant to sit in. It missed her, actually, by rolling out of position. She didn't realize the chair was on wheels.

An 18-wheeler passes us on I-485 Outer and the extra gust of wind jerks the old truck. 

"Hold 'er tight!" I scream.

Dad's knuckles go white.

Dad with his first car, the Green Machine, a 1950 Plymouth, outside his campus dorm.

The interstate is clogged, bumper to bumper, but moving fast. Very dangerous and most cars around here have minor dents.

The 2.38% increase in population this past year has created problems for the department of transportation. 117 people move to Charlotte every day, making it one of the fastest growing cities in the US. The annoyance of which dad expresses every time we go out for a ride - or "rotating" as dad calls it. We pronounce it "rotatin'" with a nod to Uncle Moose.

When Uncle Moose and dad went out rotatin', I was not allowed to go along. I'm not positive what all they did, but once a year they would return with Uncle Moose driving a new Cadillac for Aunt Dawn. Then Moose and Dawn would have two cars in Charlotte to drive back home to upstate NY. Every year, Aunt Dawn got a new caddy and every 8 or 9 years she would get a new Doberman Pinscher. I was scared to death of those dogs. That was how my uncle expressed his love.

Dad and I pull into my brother Steve's driveway and kill the engine.

The quietness is shocking. I comb my hair with great difficulty, crank open the heavy steel door and fall out of the truck, giving my brother my usual greeting, "Oh, hi Steve."

Dad used to buy used cars in NC and we'd drive them up to NY to sell. New Yorkers loved the cars with no rust. I loved having a different car every few months. Dad would let me drive them around for a few weeks before selling them. I especially loved this one.

I don't know how many more years we have living side by side without mom, but Hold 'er tight, dad, Hold 'er tight.