It’s been 45 years since I’ve lived near my family.  I’ve visited occasionally and friend them on facebook.  Our cultures have grown dramatically different.  I went to my mother’s church and some of the women were afraid to speak to me and backed away from me when I asked if she was new to the area.  I live in New York, 1500 miles away, and that’s cause for concern in her part of the county.  Mother talks.

I call it the church of, “You’re the man!” Because this is the direction of the sermon every single week.

“Ladies, couldn’t remember to say something encouraging to the men in our lives?  Maybe for no reason at all, you ladies could say, -You’re the man!”

Larry is nice enough and doesn’t seem to be afraid of me, even if my church isn’t the same kind of church as his.  A couple people from the church have gone to visit my mother at the hospital; she is recovering from hip surgery. They are suspicious that she’s not right in the head, -it’s probably dementia from old age (but she’s always been like that). They sent Carl over to the house to check up on things.

My sister reported on her blog:

There I sat eating my soup, and as it happened speaking to mother in the hospital on the phone about the loss of Gracie.  It had now been a week.  I heard an odd noise, and suddenly Carl burst in in a kind of swivet.  ?????????????  People don’t generally burst into the house…..  He was wearing a red jacket and since I was on the phone I told my Mom that Santa Claus had just arrived and hung up.  He seemed upset with me, and inspected the kitchen for signs of my malfeasance.   Had I so much as fed my dog or the remaining kitty or given them water since my sainted mother had gone to the hospital????????  Or the treasure outside?  Had I washed the dishes, cleaned up after the dog and cat, taken out garbage?  PROBABLY NOT…..  Thank you Carl.  Always a pleasure.  Arrest me.

 I came in the house, loaded my 22, and took a can of dog food out for Spot.

Very soon after that Spot had left the building.  I dragged him off into the woods.  

At least she mentioned that mother was still in the hospital and I guessed that’s why she hasn’t returned my calls.

Mom said she had bruises up and down her arms because it took three KGB agents to hold her down after surgery.  She was joking, she knew they were doctors and nurses and if they had just explained that she was on fluid restrictions there would have been no problem. She was glad the dog was no longer a problem and she had a vision of Gracie the departed cat; she was not joking about that.  She will stay at the rehab center for six weeks while she recovers from surgery.  I’m glad there’s a team.


I sent her a pouch to carry her cell phone in. I bought her a septic system and gave her a car, and I offered to pay for an apartment if she wanted to move to senior housing.  But, she’s not coming here. It’s OK to say, I don’t feel up to that.

I like my life to run smooth.