Tag Archives: my mum

More Dead People

1 Nov

Hail, hail, the gang’s all here!

First of all, I was digging up a bunch of peanuts under the clothesline. Such a tiny plant, but there were hundreds of peanuts under it. I carried them into the house by making a basket of my skirt and was planning to put them in my sink, but my mother pitched a fit, and wouldn’t allow me to do so. “And look at your clothes! They’re a mess. Honestly, you can never do anything right.”

Even in my dreams she fusses with me!

Then I ended up in our own church, and my dad was saying Mass, accompanied by my sister, of all people, as his chalicist.  One of our daughters came in and sat beside me, and called me by the name my mum always used. I glared at her (I don’t know what girl is was) and she apologized. “They’ve saying that all day, and I forgot.”

Of all the characters in this little melodrama, only my daughter is still alive. This is the second time I’ve had this sort of dream, and – as I said before – I’m not making any long-term plans.

This is just plain creepy!

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Becoming My Mother

2 Jul

Mary Ann, over at A Joyful Chaos said she was becoming her mother, and it dawned on me that I have, in some ways, also become MY mother. Oh, the horror!

Mum was not Little Suzie Homemaker. Let’s face it, neither she nor I  would ever win anybody’s medal from Good Housekeeping.  I’ve never subscribed to that magazine, simply because I couldn’t pass the physical.  But really, I always felt I was a little bit tidier than AJP.

And then this happened.

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HERS                                                                                                              MINE

Mind you, Mum’s  apartment always looked this way, and I am in the throes of refurbishing Matthew’s dollhouse for his son, but crikey, lady, you can do better than this! At least, The Squire and I can eat on the other end of the table. Mum had to balance her meals on her lap. We’re not that bad off.

Yet.

 

 

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O Tempora! O Mores!

23 Apr

Porstmann Audrey & Floyd

I found this little gem in my mum’s stuff – natch.

The child in the front is my mother,  holding a small caliber revolver, possibly police issue. The little boy behind her is her cousin Floyd. (Their fathers were brothers.) He appears to be holding a Derringer. She has it dated May 14, 1922, which would have made her 14 months, and Floyd 13 months.

Today, of course, CPS would have hauled off the whole clan.

This was probably taken in the backyard at the Dickmann Street house. That is an outhouse behind them. They did have running water in the kitchen, and there was what they called a “swinging bathroom” upstairs; I can remember even as a child, there was a tub and sink in the room, but no toilet. The room was added well after the house was built, and stuck out over the kitchen door.

 

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Oh, the Irony!

9 Mar

The funeral home went to the cemetery today with a probe, and my mum is not  buried in Doris’s grave. In fact, they poked several holes along that row, and she’s not in any of them.

And so, as she said of my dad, “God knows where to find her”.

Serves her right.

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