From sfevers at yahoo.com Mon Apr  7 13:20:38 2003
Date: Wed, 30 Jan 2002 19:37:26 -0800 (PST)
From: Susan Eversole <sfevers at yahoo.com>
Reply-To: johnny at charm.net
To: johnny at charm.net
Subject: hurts, and moveis (was: emode)



Even tho' emode said I was in the mood for drama, I
assure you -- this isn't so.  I just bought the dvd of
Buckaroo Bonzai, and let me assure you, its just as
good as you remember.  Rent it.  Buy it.

My father in law died this morning.  I'm reaching for
my fourth beer as I write this, so I must admit a
certain self-medication.  We have been waiting for
this since his 90th birthday on Thanksgiving day. 
He's been on a "medication holiday" since Christmas,
and daily visits with the hospice folk have eased his
worries, if not ours.  It was reaching the point of
pain, and yet, my mother in law, that bastion of
sanity and nurture, had told him that he wasn't
allowed to die yet -- she needed him.  

Need.  I know that word.  Its not a popular one with
the sharing, 90's crowd.  My sons asked if the
medicine for fixing aging hearts had been released,
and if Papaw died because it wasn't approved yet. 
Damn, they've been listening again.  There was no
logical reason for me crying over that phraseology,
and yet that hurt me worse than my mother in law's
plain, emotionless statements explaining how he passed
this morning.

Anyhoo, he's to be cremated, and we don't have to slog
up Slolum Holler in the winter rains this weekend to
bury him.  We will wait til next weekend -- it's more
convenient. Didn't do that with the last generation. 
They died in their homes, they put you through their
misery.  Been there, done that.  Granny's burial will
live in my memory -- remember, I'm a midwestern reform
Jew, and marrying a hillbilly from Kentucky (think Lil
Abner).  It was a strange experience to go to Granny's
burial with the hand-hewn Buckhorn church, the blue
grass band, the hundreds of people showing up at the
church with food for a week, after we'd experienced
months of misery.  Her death at 98 was a blessing.

Papaw's wake will be of this ilk -- with hundreds of
folk showing up, and us scattering his ashes on the
top of the hill (we don't have to carry his coffin up
Slolum Holler, and that's something!), and its still
alien to me.  I still can't make biscuits!  I'm hoping
Memaw comes to stay with us for a few weeks.  I hope
the boys don't ask if they can ride in the limo again.
 I hope, and those of you who disavow mixed marriage
-- read no more -- I hope my sons and I can remember
the Lord's prayer and can recite it, and not flub it,
despite the horrible propoganda they are learning in
Sunday School about Israel.  Oy.  Nuff said.

Susan Eversole

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