Spandex and Me

Yesterday my parents retired from their current preaching assignment after 50+ years in the ministry. Their people were so kind. There was a huge spread after the service and a good time was had by all.

On the way to church I had told dad I was gonna have to sneak over to WalMart to purchase a girdle.

"A what?"

"Girdle! I need to clamp down these jiggly bits."

He made a face and reminded me I still had to get mom from the nursing home and pick up Joe.

Joe was a faithful attender as long as dad picked him up. He is a 60ish, country boy with about a 3rd grade ability to understand things with an odd way of fooling people who have never met him. He is a big man with beautiful white/gray hair and he always comes to church wearing khakis and a sport coat and tie. If you didn't know better, you'd take him for a banker. But he is a peculiar fellow who prefers routine and folks with whom he is familiar. He was a little nervous about me coming alone to get him at first so I have been taking one of the teenage boys from church with me each time.

We have collected some JOEisms over the years, my favorite of which from a conversation he and my dad were having about how much Joe hated living with his brother and father since his mother died.

My dad asked, "Well, Joe, how old is your father anyway?"

Joe pondered that a minute and then replied, "I don't rightly know, but I am almost sure he's older than me."

When we pulled up his drive yesterday, I noticed a house at the back of his property I had never seen before and I said, "Do you know the people that live back there, Joe?"

He beamed and said, "Oh, yes, been knowin' them for years."

"What's their name?"

"Next Door Neighbor."

"Ahh," I said. Gonna miss old Joe.

As soon as I dropped him at the church door I ran over to WalMart and got the dreaded girdle, only I didn't get the standard panty-style. I opted for the slip girdle. My reasoning was simple and I am sure you can see why it would kill two birds, so to speak. I rushed back to church and entered the Ladies Room to anchor the bits before they took off for parts unknown.

At first, I was very pleased at the smooth look it afforded. I turned and surveyed my ample backside and, yes! Very smooth, indeed.

Then I took a step. It became immediately clear I would have to shorten my stride a bit if I wanted the thing to stay put, but I felt reasonably sure I could handle that with a modicum of unwanted attention. One last look at my new firm middle and I was off...slowly.

I made the rounds taking my baby steps, shaking hands and chatting with folks until it was time for the service to begin. As soon as I sat I knew I was in trouble. The bottom wanted to roll up, and it was quite determined, but I managed to thwart it's progress the first time. The third and fourth time however, found me losing the battle. By the time my dad called me up to sing my mom's favorite song, it had creapt all the way up to my middle and rested there like a child-size hoola hoop, tenting my dress in a most unbecoming way. Well, I was mortified. There were people taking pictures and watching my every step and I seriously considered singing it from my seat.

After the unbearably long song, I exited the sanctuary and returned to the restroom. I elected to return the spiteful garment to it's proper place since there would only be one more up and down to the service and, surely, I could control it once.

And, I did! I was simply beaming when I entered, geisha-like into the social hall. I was so flushed with success I practically floated from friend to friend, bouyed not only by my ability to master spandex, but also by my imagined sveltness. I walked into the kitchen and found Joe getting a real glass to drink out of and as he turned, he knocked a towel to the floor. I knelt, practically at his feet, to retrieve it and... an odd noise, rather like a "ffrrrlippp", announced the rolling up of my god-forsaken slip.

Joe's eyes, when I looked up at him, were wide and fixed. I feared for his health. I was standing as he fled the room with me shouting, "Joe! It's not...I didn't..." Oh, forevermore. Confound it!

I returned to the loo, removed the evil hugger and dropped it in the trash. Me and my jelly belly returned to the party and dang, if we didn't have a really good time.

Unwilling

I have been in Florida helping the 'rents for about a month. My mom is still in the nursing home and my dad is unable to drive, so I have been the chauffer to here, there and everywhere.

This morning, he knocks on my door and opens it. I am still asleep. It is 8am.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

One eye opens and I gaze around the room.

"Ready? Uh, no," I say, sitting up.

"Humph," he says, and turns to hobble away.

"But I can get ready," I offer to his retreating back.

I dutifully get up, grab some clothes and hustle into the bathroom. I come out a short 3 minutes later and wander down the hallway wondering what appointment I have forgotten. Dad can't be found. I go to the front door and find him sitting in the front seat of the van with his big hands resting on the top of the cane between his knees. I wave but he is too blind to see. Grabbing the keys, I book it out into the already scorching heat.

"Where to?" I venture, hoping I won't encourage his ire if the destination should already be known to me.

"We need a mattress pad."

We do? Hmm.

"So, where to?" I ask again.

"Gainesville, I guess."

As we make our way, we attempt conversation, but it is difficult. His right ear is the good ear and everything I say must be repeated (often more than once) and he tires easily. He and I watched some of the Little League World Series the night before and I tell him what happened after he went to bed. He tells me a "Johnny" joke.

The coach calls little Johnny over and says, "Johnny, now you know we don't use bad language in baseball."
"No, sir," Johnny says.
"And we don't call people names or insult them."
"No, sir."
"And we never shout at the umpire or threaten his life in any way."
"No, sir, I would never do that."
"Well," the coach says, "would you please go tell your mother all that?"

And I laugh, remembering how often I might have deserved a reminder during the boys' high school games. We are smiling as we go a few miles lost in our own worlds and then he says, "Your mother wants to come home."

"Yes sir, she sure does."

"I think..." he begins, "I think we will be alot closer when she does."

He leans his head back and falls asleep. Big tears well up, and I feel so many things. So sad and mad and grateful...and the love! The love just about kills me.

There are so many things I still don't know, but I do know I am not ready. Each day brings us closer to an ending, a seperation, a goodbye. But I am not ready. Not yet.

Not yet.