Pretty busy. Got down to Longport for the 9:30 funeral of Kathleen Dumas Scotti. There weren't a lot of people there, but the Christmas party regulars were: Joe and Flo League, who looked surprisingly well; Don McGahn, who didn't; Rita and Audrey, whose last names I always forget; and Barbara Jones, whom I sat next to (I guess it should be "next to whom I sat," but that looks weird).
Oblivious jerk that I am, I asked Barb where her husband, Frank was, and learned he had died six months ago. I'm almost sure I had known that and had sent a note, but I'm not positive. Oh, well, she didn't mind.
I was surprised to see Alice Wayland there, too, as well as her sisters, Betty and Ann (as kids, we always called her "Annie"). Alice is 81, but looks incredibly young--tall, thin, and she colors her hair. Annie is ten years younger, but you'd never know it. Her mane is pure white and she and Betty are as wrinkly as--okay, as I would be if I ever looked in the mirror that closely. They were there for the Kenny Wayland run and because Danny is their cousin.
The priest's sermon was mostly rah-rah, keep the faith (fabulously irrelevant though it is--well, he didn't say that). He referred to Kathleen as "a good Irish Catholic woman"; in fact, I remember her pride at being--at least partly--of French heritage. Her grandson spoke, very emotionally and with tears of his "Nan" and how loving and giving she was. A daughter, ditto. Another daughter, ditto, ditto. I guess you just rid your mind of the actual history of a family--not all loving and giving--and go with your hopes.
As I was walking to my car, sister Betty drove up. I accompanied her back to the Margate apartment, where owners Eileen and Alex were cleaning up. Betty stayed to help them after showing us a paper and checks from the insurance company. I begged off staying around until lunch time, as I had errands.
Went to Produce Junction, as I had planned and bought a lovely hanging basket with blue and yellow flowers, and two large Gerber daisies. Total cost, twelve bucks.
Stopped at Romanelli's Garden Cafe and was able to arrange for the June Dine-Around. Had to leave a non-refundable deposit of a hundred smackers, so the thing better come off.
Rushed home, grabbed lunch, and set to work making up flyers for Dine Around. Found e-mail addresses for some members and sent them; took the others around to their houses, and finally got them all sent out. I hope there are no hitches with this things.
When I brought Mary-Jo F. her flyer, we had a heartfelt talk about our mutual widowhood. Hers is very new--Dennis died in March--and I assured her it would get better. She will have a different life, never, ever the same, of course, but it will be a good new life. She was so grateful to hear me say that because Rae S. had told her differently. There's no way I would ever fault Rae for that: It seems she will be actively mourning Sid for the rest of her life and I guess that's what she needs to do. But for me and for many others, I know, it will get better.
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