Looking at Facebook--which, if you ask me, is getting more and more bizarre--I saw this on the page of one of my T.O.P.S. friends. It's a meme: "What does your loved one in heaven have to say about you?" She got back something from her late brother to the effect that she should carry on and he knows she's sorrowful, but he's happy in heaven, and...in other words, every cliche and bromide in the book. I put in that I wanted to hear what Ish Kabibble has to say to me and, of course, got a similarly goofy message back. It's truly frightening that anyone would even post this, let alone take it seriously.
I did another virtual jigsaw and enjoyed it immensely. Here's the pic:
Much more important, I came across my father's work diary from 1945. I want to transcribe it as much as possible when I have a chance. There are few personal things in it, including here a mention of the twins' room--that's us, folks! Here's the entry:
He was 46 then and had exactly five more years to live.
I wrote a note to cousin Mary and prepared the picture of Jimmy to sent her. As I was walking to the P.O., Ellen called to say she had gotten me the diet 7Up I like and could she bring it over? Absolutely and she said she'd be there about 3:30. I mailed the letter and walked back, but on the way, saw Maggie, the young homeless woman I've mentioned before. We got into a conversation and I exclaimed over her terribly swollen and sunburned legs. I asked if she had seen a doctor or gone to the emergency room, but she said she didn't trust them at all, she trusted only God and he would take care of her. We talked for ten minutes or so. It's hard to tell exactly, but Maggie surely is no older than thirty, if that. She's clearly mentally unbalanced in a kind of Christian fundamentalist way.
When I got home, Suzanne was outside and I asked where Maggie might be able to get help. She suggested I call Public Health, which I will today, but I fear Maggie will resist, anyway. What a tragic waste. I sat out front with Suzanne for awhile, not realizing El was already on my patio. I came in shortly and El and I had a good talk. I'm so grateful she brought me my secret vice and even more, that she stayed about an hour to chat.
I was surprised and pleased to get an email from Carolyn B., a joint one to Nancy and me. She misses our lunches and happy hours together--as do we--and said various things were happening at home. Later, I called Betty to tell her I had spoken to Mary Renz. I think Betty's dementia problem waxes and wanes--she seemed more confused last evening than she usually does.
Although I had told my friend, Pat, I had more or less lost interest in Little People, Big World, I actually watched it last night, and was reasonably engaged. The problem for me is, it's on so late--I didn't get to bed until ten!--so I don't know if I'll continue.
Okay, now I'm waxing philosophical: This kind of "reality" T.V., which is anything but real, seems a perfect representation of our times. It's a shadow show that we accept as true: Zach really did do all the work for the party, Chris actually proposed to Amy on their walk, Matt planted vines on Karen's urging. And all this is, of course, completely spontaneous.
I'd love to be a fly on the wall at the show's planning sessions.
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