It is noon, so I close the laptop, gather up the dozen pay or quit notices for the mail and carrying them to the front of the office. I tell the secretary I will be on my cell phone.
I get half a tank of gas because the light is on and I still need to buy some things at the grocery later. On down the road I turn into my mother's development and pass from the compartment of my public life to the compartment of my family. She is waiting at the door with her pocketbook.
"Have you ate lunch?" She asks. I tell her no, I was going to grab something on the way.
"Well I can fix you something" and names off all the left overs she has and which one she ate. Not innerested.
My mother has a blood vessel in the back of her head that presses on a nerve that controls her left eyelid and makes it twitch. I have it too, but it only bothers me when I am real tired. She is 85 years old, she is always tired. The only thing that can help her is botox. Injected in the nerves around her eye it can deaden the small muscles that are involved in the twitch for months. If they hit the wrong nerve she can loose the ability to focus that eye for months. Most of the time it works like it is supposed to. The doctor she goes to for the injections is in Greensboro, NC, 60 miles away. We are in the car now, headed in that direction.
I tell her I heard Dr. X in town gives botox shots for back problems. Perhaps she can check and see if he can take care of her problem.
"WHEN did you hear THIS?!" she demand.
"An hour ago"
"Well I can cancel the appointment........" I calm her down and we formulate the proper way of going about it.
She produces from her pocket book a chilled coke in a plastic bottle and a fudge creme pie, only 8000 calories. She brought it in case I had ate this could be my desert. I thank her and loath her as I consume the sugar delivery system. She leans over to look at my gas gauge and asks me if I have enough gas.
Down the road we go. Cousin Linda is getting married to that guy, she wishes she could remember what he looked like. She is mad at the president of the homeowners association because of an embankment that was not trimmed down to her satisfaction. She wants to know how to merger some document on her computer. She wants to know what language that billboard is in. What kind of car is that? This road needs to be straightened out.
Speaking of straight: She tells about her Bible study last week this way: "If you all talk about me the way my preacher talks about his mother, heaven help me!" Her preacher is a Methodist minister who was going to be a Catholic Priest who dropped out to marry the woman of his dreams and obtain a degree in theater. His mother refuses to hear his sermons, but always speaks with pride of her years of correspondence with the Actor Raymond Burr. That is when one of the Bible Study busybodies leaps up and announces Raymond Burr is gay. "Well" says the preacher, "I'll have something on my mother now." My mother hates this busy body. She says she thinks saying someone is gay is the awfullest thing you can say about them.
I tell her: Raymond Burr is dead. Like that is going to squelch the matter of his orentation. And under that I think, there are worse things, Mamma, like saying nothing at all.
Sprawl has carried the city limits way out past where they should be. I hit every light on the way. I stop at Wendy's to grab something half way healthy, half way deep fried. She pulls out her bag, I ask her if I can get her something. No, she is going to buy my lunch, and my gas, she pulls out $30, explaining she had $40 but this happened and that happend.....we get to the doctor right on time. I wait until she is called back and I pull out my lap top and bring up The Heart of the Matter, and pick up where I left off. Tell him Lee, c'mon he deserves to know.....
The phone rings, I recognize the prefix, someone from Bristol, Virginia-Tennessee, sure enough it is the newspaper calling to verify I submitted the letter to the editor. Should have some people praying for my soul pretty soon.
She emerges and hour and a half later. Her eyes are dilated because they also needed to check her for macular degeneration. I lead her out the door to the car. She produces a hand full of hershey kisses and devours one as she describes her head ache. She asked when was the last time she had a treatment. I could not quite remember, I told her I thought her daughter had brought her the last time. "...And she said she would never do it again!" (wonder why......)
There is a place on old business 220 out past the sprawl, a two lane road going thru the country for the time being. Before it merges with the four lane there is a place where it widens out and the shoulders are mown and I look down and I am going 70 mph. I glance over at her and her head is hanging down, asleep. In 15 years she will be 100. I will be 59, if I am still living.
Topic: Shakesthegrounds Rumblings (Read 2599513 times)