Twenty-Twenty Wasn't Fun. Was There Anything We Could Have Done?

Last night was New Year's Eve. We don't go out, but ate junk food and made noise when the ball dopped. Cilla was able to stay up instead of being sent to bed and sneaking downstairs. I think that was more fun. But what wouldn't be?

Today we had Aunt Pooh's hot dog buffet and sauerkraut.

   Aunt Pooh's Holiday Smorgasbord, August 15, 2018

Not Too Bad

 

Thanksgiving and Christmas “Didn't suck too bad,” as Josh said. Maybe that's what the Cratchit kids said.  I told them it was all right to complain as long as you were thankful for what you had and asked God to forgive you.

There was still turkey, pumpkin pie, cookies, snapping crackers and presents. I missed live church, but was grateful for Zoom. Cilla was put out because this year she would have been allowed to go to the midnight service. I told her they'd be doing it on Zoom, but she just sighed and said, “It's not the same.” I think she expected a churchlady argument, because she looked surprised when I just said, “I know.”

Of course there wasn't anything going on at school and I missed the office silliness of Secret Santa and going out to lunch. I told myself it would all be back next year. I wondered what joy we got out of trying to guess who everyone's Secret Santa was and fussing about which restaurant to go to, anyway. But we do anyway.

We had Janet and Kate over for both days and had as good a time as possible while wearing masks and not being able to sing carols. Karen and Nikki and I talked on the phone a lot and told each other how grateful we were for everything after complaining for fifteen minutes.

The New BOO

 

The School Board canceled Trick or Treat, so we just had pizza for dinner with Halloween candy for dessert. Cilla put candy corn and and pumpkins on hers on top of the pepperoni. I put some on mine, too. Josh said, “Now we have another tradition,” and got some of the Halloween Peeps, bit off their heads and put both the heads and bodies on separate slices. I took pictures.

The grade school and middle school let the kids wear costumes. The high school didn't, but the kids all wore black and orange and appropriate accessories like cat and rabbit ears, witches' hats, and devil horns. They couldn't wear tails, though.

I went up to the attic to see if I could find any old costumes for Cilla. (Josh was a vampire, his favorite).  There was an angel from a Christmas pageant, the usual witches, the wig Betsey had worn as Kim Kardashian. (Betsey had been able to wear the dress (short and black) later, as she always reminds me, although I didn't let her wear it to the Christmas Eve service). Finally, we chose the dress I'd worn as Amy the year Aunt Pooh decided to do Little Women. Fortunately for Jim, I could always fill in for him when Aunt Pooh did themes. That year, he was Boy George.

The Newest New Normal

 

School has started. All summer we had been hearing about the different options, but it wasn't until September first that the school board decided to go live. Of course, they said they could always go back to video and home schooling.

That hadn't worked out too well for us. We got everyone a new laptop (an early Christmas present).  Ed fussed they would be back in school by Easter. I reminded him of all those wars that were going to be “over by Christmas.”

Fortunately, Ed and I could both work from home, so we could “help” with the online classes, Ed with math and science and me with English and social studies. Unfortunately, Ed and I have different philosophies. Mine is “Isn't this fun!” Ed's is “You have to learn, so you can go college and get a good job and make a lot of money. So suck it up!”

Josh wanted to know what Jesus would do, since “money was the root of all evil.” Ed told him that he would have more money to give to the poor.

Betsey, who is planning to be the AOC of her generation, (She got AOC glasses when she needed a new prescription. Fortunately or unfortunately, she already had AOC hair.) said that was classist. Ed snorted. I said she was right, but the more you know, the more you can help people. He snorted again.

They gave us two weeks to get ready. We did back to school shopping online, and for a while it was like Christmas every day with new packages arriving. When we dropped the kids off at school, it was like Halloween, with everyone wearing a different mask, animals, superheroes, cartoon characters.

I don't know what's going to happen for Halloween. I ordered some Scary Shapes candy (candy corn in shapes of bones and bats and so on), but the purple skulls had melted all over everything, and even though we managed to pull them apart, they still didn't taste good.

Of course this could all be over by Halloween. Good one.

Dear Readers,

Is it just me or are these pictures creepy?

Charlie

America's Favorite Episcopal Family Scenes from the Big House

 

Looking back, I think the time before the lockdown was like one of those horror movies that shows everyone going about their business before everything hits the fan. I had to take Cilla to dance class in the morning. (She has added hip hop to ballet, so that's two hours a week, not counting transportation.) In the afternoon, I took Betsey to the Mall. We picked up Ilse on the way, and Nikki walked to the car with a bag of books she was getting rid of. I said “Terrific" (an English major never turns down books), but I was going to clean out all the drawers and closets and maybe even the attic. She said, “I don't think it's going to last a year,” and we laughed.

Ed, who is very practical and likes apocalyptic and dystopian literature, has always insisted we keep a stock pile of paper products and canned food. We have an overflow of canned chili, and I thought I might as well pick up a few bags of tortilla chips and jars of salsa (all strength as well as pineapple and watermelon), but the parking lot at the supermarket was packed and people were rushing to their cars with overflowing baskets. (Karen told me she had put in an order on the computer, but at 5:00 the store told her the order had been canceled.)

I went to the drug store and got the chips and salsa (although they only had hot and mild. Hard times.) We were waiting to hear what would be closed. There was the feel of waiting for a snow day for the kids. Ed and I would both be working at home. The kids were delighted when it was announced that schools would be closed. What they hadn't thought of was that they would be home-schooled and that locked down means you are locked in your house, and so is everyone else.

Josh called the isolation “solitary confinement” and “house arrest.” Betsey said that lack of human contact makes people crazy. I asked them what was their family, chopped liver? Josh said Ed and I were the corrections officers and the girls were his fellow prisoners. Probably at the instigation of the others, Cilla had made an ankle bracelet out of Legos and duct tape.

I said “good one,” and, as I do when they fight, I told them I had wished for siblings all my life.  I would have even prayed for them, but I was a Unitarian. The Only Child Card may get old for them, but never for me. Cilla looked sympathetic. Betsey rolled her eyes and Josh told me how lucky I was to have all that extra money spent on me. Betsey said I hadn't had to put up with anybody getting in my stuff or walking by and hitting me on the back of the head. Josh said he just tapped.

Ed happened to be walking by on his way on his way to the kitchen, He said anybody who had siblings would say I was neurotic. I said maybe that was what made me that way. Not to mention being raised by two scientists/and having most of the family named after writers or literary characters, including an Aunt Pooh.

Is this the deluge?

+

I'm probably not a “brilliant” writer, but I like to think I'm “gifted” on good day.

But lately (ever since The Election, if I'm honest), there haven't been that many; It's not that we didn't have good times, – there's always something to celebrate with kids (not to mention a dog and cat). But there was always something not quite right. We were waiting, not for the other shoe to drop, but for a whole display case of shoes to fall over.

This past winter was like a soggy spring or summer. The scarves and mittens stayed in the drawers, and Karen's boys never got to wear the snowsuits they'd gotten for Christmas. We watched White Christmas and A Christmas Story, hoping for real snow, but after a fall which didn't leave you feeling brisk drinking your Pumpkin Spice cocoa or latte in your autumnal turtleneck, I was worried.

Ed wanted to know why I was getting upset over weather. I said obsessing about trivia kept my mind off the real problems, not the least of which was feeling guilty because so many people had so many more problems.

We hoped that 2020 would fix things. But we should have know that a leap year with a full moon on Friday the thirteenth would be, as Kate said, “a real side trip on The Journey” or as Nikki put it, “Another f**king opportunity so make some different mistakes for a change.”

And we're off!

Making a Halloween Fashion Statement

This year, the kids are saluting the Addams family. Josh had thought of being Bernie Sanders; He could put powder in this hair and wear a Bernie t-shirt Janet had saved. He made a sign to put on his back that said, “I wrote the damn bill!” He even offered to change it to “d**n bill”, but I said some people might be offended and anyway, we didn't want anyone to think we were Socialists. Josh said that we shouldn't care what people think, especially if it isn't true. Cilla added that some Socialists were probably nice people and had kids “just like us.”

I finally said we could go to the costume store and get anything they wanted, as long as it wasn't the sexy version. So we went to the Halloween Holiday Ghostly “Boo-tique,” in an old Blockbuster building, where a very nice millennial vampire helped us “create a howling good Halloween.”



Cilla decided to be Morticia because the costume was pretty and Betsey picked Wednesday because she was a “badas . . .girl.” Josh will be Cousin Itt, who isn't that far from Senator Sanders. Our sales vampire asked if I wanted to be Grandmama, but I never dress up, much to the relief of Ed and the kids, although I do have a pair of cat ears, and if I feel very daring I draw whiskers on my face.



What the Heck, It's Halloween!



It may seem redundant to call Halloween “weird,” but this year it's weirder than usual. For one thing, people are still wearing shorts. Besides that, pumpkin spice food just doesn't taste the same. And when the wistful autumn songs come on the radio, I just snort.

Ed says I'm being ungrateful, and this winter I'll be wishing Joni Mitchell or somebody would call this October back for another month or so.  He's right, but I want to wear my sweaters. Some people are shoe people. I'm a sweater person. I also like socks with animals on them.

To add to the unreality, the grocery store had bags of candy corn, candy pumpkins, and “Autumn Mix,” which is regular and Native American corn and pumpkins. The drugstore also had small bags of “Maple Syrup” corn. Nobody, including the candy store, which has been around since my mother was a child,and maybe longer, carried the Halloween mix, which has yellow, banana-flavored moons and femurs, purple “salted caramel” skulls, the usual corn and pumpkins, “chocolate” cats and bats of such a dark brown they could be black, and small brown jugs, which were maple flavored. The kids always fight over those. I restrain myself.

Fortunately, I was able to find them on the Internet, where shipping was free for orders over twenty five dollars. I bought three bags and gave two to Karen and Nikki. They didn't have the jugs; I guess the maple candy corn replaced them, perhaps to stop fights. I went back to the drugstore and bought six bags. They were small.

Ed said that it was a triumph of technology that enabled me to refuse to keep up with advances in holiday junk food so we could rot our teeth with purple skulls.

I  said, “It's a tradition.” When I say that, everyone stops arguing.



 



Little Christmas

By Epiphany, we have the tree and the lights down, but we have a tradition of finishing the Christmas food that has lasted though the holidays: cranberry sauce, dips, fancy cheeses and crackers from the Intellectual Deli, the popcorn left in those giant tins, those cookies from Denmark that also come in tins, and the last of the English “biscuits,” that I get every year, along with the popping crackers and plum pudding. Every year I put little boxes of Barnum's Animal Crackers in the kids' stockings (like my mother put in mine and her mother had put in hers). The kids don't like them and Ed says they're a waste of money, but I tell everyone it's a tradition and that they shouldn't be curmudgeons.

So there are always animal crackers left. Cilla and Josh like to make the animals fight and dance around the cocoa cups and then dive in. Betsey likes to say say they are immature and tell me I'm letting them run wild. Well, at least she doesn't call them big morons anymore.

But over the years, things have changed. The boxes used to come with a string that you could use to hang them from the tree. Not they just have paper handles as part of the box. And this year, the animals are free range. They used to be in cages in a circus train car. Ed pointed this out and called it “another victory for animal rights.” I said it was a good thing, but I felt kind of bad about it, not to mention the string. Betsey snorted, Josh patted my shoulder, and Cilla says she's going to write to the company about the string.

 

 



Aunt Pooh's Hotdog Smorgasbord

 

 

 

Our discussion of hamburgers and ketchup ("That's So Charlie") reminded me of Aunt Pooh's International Hot Dog Buffet, which she would set out for me and my cousins.  It works for hamburgers too.

Hula dog:  a hotdog with ketchup and pineapple.  Say aloha to a real treat!

Fiesta Perro: salsa and cheese, loving wrapped in a tortilla!  Ole!

Ach du Lieber Hund: a frankfurter mit sauerkraut and cheese.

Good Ole Boy/Gal dog:  Add barbecue sauce for a southern treat!  Yee hah!

John Bull Dog:  A jolly good show with cheddar cheese and mustard!  If you can find chutney, it will add the mystery of India.

Godfather Dog:  Sprinkle Parmesan cheese over spaghetti sauce on your hot dog. They'll leave the gun and take the dog!

Puritan Dog:  Smother your dog with baked beans.  Even Cotton Mather would love it! 

Aunt Pooh told me that when my mother was three she wouldn't eat hotdogs because she thought they were made from dogs.  When my grandmother explained that they were called that because they looked like dachshunds, my mother said that was "stupid."  But she ate them.



Protest -- Perhaps a Parable?

There was going to be a protest at the college. I don't know what it was about; there are so many things to make people mad. Janet and Missy were going, but I forgot to ask them.

Karen said she'd like to go, but Tom told her he was not going to watch the boys for that, although he would be happy to do it if she wanted to go, shopping; hey, why didn't she go to lunch first? I asked her if that wasn't sexist and she looked sheepish, “But he really feels strongly about not being political. It's part of his self image. Anyway, I'm not going to turn down an afternoon to myself. Where do you want to go to eat?”

Nikki said that if the girls wanted to go, she would take them, but she didn't think they would and Chinese would be fun.

I said Cilla was too young and Betsey and Josh probably made other plans. Or I could bring the girls to lunch and Ed could have some quality time with Josh.

I told Ed about how nice Tom had been, and I also told him why. “Of course, I wouldn't go anyway, but Karen was disappointed and I wanted to be supportive,”

“Jesus.”

I wanted to keep the drama so a minimum, so I let it go, although I wondered what Jesus would have done.

But then, He never organized a protest or march, as far as I know. But then, I'm not a theologian.

So we had a very nice lunch (I had mu shu pork), I got a new scarf (black with red poppies), and the girls got new shirts (Hello Kitty playing tennis for Cilla and Wonderwoman for Betsey).

Janet called and said the protest had been awesome. When I asked here what it had been about, she giggled and said there was so much going on with all the leaflets and signs and singing, she really couldn't say.

This is so Charlie!

 

 

 

Ed and I have a rule that no media is allowed during dinner, The kids fussed about missing calls, “And it might be an emergency, Mom, like Grandpa's fallen and he can't get up.”

I said, “If  he can call us, he can call 911. Whoever it is can leave a message.”

I didn't tell them that when I was young, we didn't have voicemail, since we got it when I was ten. I knew I'd get a cross examination, if not the Spanish Inquisition.

This is what it can lead to:

 

I asked Ed if he put the ketchup on top of the cheese in a cheeseburger, or if he turned it over and put it on the meat,

He said he put it on top and added, “What difference does it make?”

Me: “ I'm just making conversation. That's all I've got.”

Josh: “That's a very original question, Mom, It's interesting to hear how other people do things.” (Seminary, here he comes!) “I put it on top.”

Cilla wanted to know why.

Betsey: 'Because he's too lazy to turn the bun over.” (Betsey was having a grilled cheese sandwich to help save some poor cow's life. Cilla said I was “spoiling her.” I said it was to make up for all the times Betsey thought I was spoiling her. )

Josh: “But maybe it makes the meat taste better. Of course you could put it on both sides.” (And it's going to be an Episcopal seminary!)

Ed: “Why not mustard?” (I don't know if he wanted to join in or if he was being provocative. I didn't care. It was communication.)

Cilla: “McDonald's mixes ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise! Eeew!”

Josh: ”Everyone's entitled to their own opinion.”

Cilla:” I bet if we asked that guy who trashes all those restaurants on television, he'd have an opinion.”

Betsey: “Why don't you write a letter and ask him?”

Cilla: “Maybe I will. It would be very educational.”

Ed: “Well, Charlie do you turn your hamburger upside down? If anyone did, it would be you,”

 

 

Me: “Actually, I never did. Not to brag, but I'm probably the only person in the world who ever thought of it.”
 

“In the universe,” Cilla said proudly.

 

 

 

And Business Insurance Hadn't Even Been Invented!

 

"Well,” Josh said, as we drove home from soccer practice. “Betsey's mad at Jesus again.”

"Oh, no," I thought, but I just said, "Why?" I was surprised that she had just told him and not refused to go to Sunday School, Last time she hadn't liked the fact that Jesus had driven a legion of demons into a herd of pigs, who promptly threw themselves off a cliff and drowned.

"She says he's a racist."

That was a new one on me. "Why?"

"Because when Jesus killed those pigs, he ruined their owner's business and he probably had to become a beggar. But since he was a Gentile, Jesus didn't care. So that makes him a racist."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. "I'll have to talk to her." I wasn't sure how to handle this. I decided to just take her aside or wait until I was taking her somewhere, but Josh beat me to it, maybe because we were having pork chops. Betsey is still not eating meat, although I did get her to agree to eat something that would eat her. But I haven't been able to find any shark or bear or alligator meat. Not that I'm looking all that hard.

Cilla had decided that she was "too young to make that decision." This is probably the only time she has ever been glad to be too young to do something.

"You know," Josh said, "If those pigs hadn't drowned, they would have been killed anyway." We all knew what he was talking about. The pig theological crisis has become a family legend already.

"That's not the point," Betsey said. "He shouldn't have done it. And he was mean to the pig's owner. He ruined his business.  He couldn't even have a going out of business sale, because he didn't have anything left to sell."

"Tell Mom why he did it." Josh likes a good debate. Or maybe he just wanted to give her a hard time. But Betsey seemed glad to get the opportunity to develop her point.

"Because the pigs' owner wasn't Jewish. Jesus didn't care what happened to him. He probably thought it served him right."

"Served him right for what?" Now Cilla was in on the discussion.

"For not being Jewish."

"Tell Mom what that makes him." I don't know why Josh kept telling her to tell me. Ed was right there.

"A racist."

Ed looked up from his potatoes and dropped his fork.

"A what?"

"A racist. That's a person who . . ."

"I know what a racist is. You should never call anyone that. It's like the n-word."

"But a person who would use the n-word is a racist. So couldn't you call them a racist?"

"Well . . " Ed had to think for a minute. I didn't say anything. I was enjoying not having to answer the questions for a change. Finally he got an idea. "Two wrongs don't make a right."

"And anyway, we don't know any racists." I was shocked at myself. I sounded like my mother, who could never see the point of talking about something in theory, except in science.

"But we might someday," Cilla said, almost with horrified anticipation, like we might know a vampire someday.

"And we know Jesus."

"Don't say that, Betsey." Cilla was getting upset. "You'll hurt His feelings and the Blessed Virgin Mother's."

"The Blessed Virgin Mother is probably embarrassed for Him anyway."

I didn't know what to say. I wondered if it would be cowardly to change the subject. Fortunately, Josh had gotten bored and wanted to know what was for dessert.
 

 

 

Christmas Eve Eve

When I was a child counting down to Christmas, I would say, “If you don’t count today and you don’t count tomorrow, Christmas is X number of days away.” 

When I told my mother this, she said, “Why wouldn’t you count today and tomorrow?”

I said “To make it come faster.”

“Now, Charlie, you know that doesn’t make sense.”

Later I heard her telling one of her friends about this on the phone.  “She’s such a funny little thing.  I just don’t know how she’s going to get along in the world.”

If she’d sounded amused, my feelings would have been hurt, but she sounded concerned.  So I never shared the countdown with her again, although I kept it up.

 

I did tell my cousin Bethany, who thought it was a neat idea.  Aunt Pooh suggested that we could also count down to Christmas Eve.  “And then there’s Christmas Eve Eve.”

The day before Christmas Eve always had a special feel.  It was the last day of school before Christmas vacation.  I’d get to stay up late.  There would the final deluge of Christmas cards waiting to be gone through when I got home and my parents brought home the schmooze food gifts they’d gotten from business contacts.  It was a preview of Christmas.

As an adult, with the job of “doing” Christmas, I count today and tomorrow to try and make Christmas come more slowly so I can get things done.  I’m not sure if it works.

But by Christmas Eve Eve, I either have finished everything or given up.  The children come home from school all excited and I let them have some of the “not until Christmas” cookies that I’ve been guarding.  We sit around and they try to get me to let them open “just one" of the presents that Ed and I got for them to “help Santa out.”  Somebody says, “If you don’t count today and you don’t count tomorrow, it’s Christmas.” 

And we all understand. 

 

November 12 is the birthday of  Charlotte Emily Anne Sommerville McDonald, heroine/narrator of the fiction family sitcom blog Meet the McDonalds.

Mother of three, who works in the library at The College, Charlie (as she is best known) is a recovering English major and former Unitarian, who became an Episcopalian in  college.

Meet the McDonalds 

Cast of Characters

The Family

Ed, Charlie, Betsey, Josh, Cilla, Duke, and Nigel 

Janet McDonald -- Ed’s mother, married to

The Rev. Kate Parker

Douglas McDonald -- Ed’s father, who left Janet for

Missy Hays (currently McDonald), who has just left him for 

Jack Sommerville – Charlie’s father

Allison – Ed’s sister, married to Tony 
Their children are Dylan and Courtney

Ancestors and Extended Family

George (deceased) and Alice  (deceased) Whitfield. Charlie’s maternal grandparents.  He was an English professor and she was an at-home mom and painter.  Their children are

Louisa (Louie), Charlie’s mother (deceased) 

Ursula (Aunt Pooh)  Married to Dr. Joseph Gruenwald, a therapist.  Their children are Meghan, Joanna, Bethany, and James (Jim). (His nickname was Jamie until he figured out why.) 

Henry James Whitfield (Uncle Hank) Married to Judy, Their children: The Three J’s  Jessica, Jason, and Jennifer

The Girls

Karen – Married to Tom.  Their children are Eric, Jacob (Jake) and Lucas

Nicole (Nikki)  Married to Helmut.  Their children are Jennifer and Ilsa.

Dr. Emily Evans – Professor specializing in Early American Literature.   Single, Lesbian, and looking.

Alice Barrett –New guest  lecturer at The College.

Michele - Emily's ex.  A mysterious visitor.

Charlie’s been blogging and writing in her diary for a year and a half.  Since we can’t do a clip show, here are some recurring McDonald moments.

Charlie says, “Before you can say ‘knife.’”

Betsey says “Moron.”

Josh says, “No way, Jose.”

Cilla says, “Please, please, please.”

Kate says, “How do you feel about that?”

Janet says, “Bless her heart.”

Jack says, "Damn religious foolishness."

Karen says, “More wine?”

Nikki says, “Don’t be such a churchlady.”

Aunt Pooh says, “Let’s have a nice cup of tea.”

Emily  says, "Do I need a makeover?"

Alice says, "Terrific!"

Michele says,  "Charlotte . .  ."                      

What does Ed say? 

 Thanks to Ylvis for” What Does the Fox Say?”

Catch up with the action or relive favorite moments through the Archives.

Louisa, Pooh,and the Haunted Loo, A Tale of Revenge by Guest Blogger Aunt Pooh



 

My sister, my brother, and I grew up in was technically a suburb, but was really the country.  There were cornfields on two sides of our house and a farm down the road. We loved to go in the cornfields ,and for Halloween, we would pick the corn, which was hard, shell it, and at night go around the neighborhood, throw it at people's windows and run away.

There were stories of children who had gotten lost in the cornfield and were never seen again.  My sister Louisa who was very "down to earth" (She thought Halloween costumes were "stupid", although she did enjoy the Trick of Treat candy,)  said it was probably "bums" (That was what we called homeless people then.), but my brother Hank and I thought it might be ghosts.

To hear my mother talk, you'd think bums were "coming in the windows", as she liked to say.  Up the road was an old cemetery, with not just gravestones, but mausoleums.  We liked to look in the windows, because of course the spirits didn't come out during the day.  Louisa said that was stupid and that she wouldn't be afraid to go in the cemetery at night and sit on one of the benches and eat a sandwich.  When Hank asked what kind of sandwich, I was about to say that wasn't important, but Louisa said she would bring cheese because peanut butter and jelly was too messy.  Then Hank asked if she would put mustard or mayonnaise on it, and she said she would just eat it plain because mustard and mayonnaise were too messy, too. 

We had to pass the cemetery on our way to school.  There was a hedge around it, so my mother told us to walk on the other side of the road in case bums were hiding the hedge waiting to jump out and grab us.   Sometimes, just to be daring, we would walk on the cemetery side, but I never did by myself.

As if the cornfield and the cemetery weren't enough, there was a haunted house between the cemetery and the school.  It was up a long driveway, so if a ghost or bum got you, no one would know.  One Saturday, just before Halloween, Louisa was talking again about having a sandwich in the cemetery.  Hank said, "Oh, Louie, you're just saying that.  You know you couldn't get out at night."

Louisa was a realist.  "Let's do it this afternoon."

This time I was down to earth.  "That's not scary.  There might be people coming to put flower on the graves and stuff."

Hank thought a minute, "Let's go to the haunted house.  We can have a picnic on the lawn."

That sounded good.  When my mother found us making sandwiches, we told her we were going to a nature walk, and she gave us some cookies to take and even some milk in my Cinderella thermos bottle.  We put it all in my lunch kit and started off.

It was a sunny day, but when we started up the drive, we felt a chill in the wind.  I said maybe it was the ghosts.  Louisa said, "Oh, Pooh," but Hank looked excited.    Supposedly, the house had belonged to a rich family, who had all died off except one daughter.  Some had been drowned, some had died in carriage or car accidents, and some had suddenly gotten very sick and died, even though they were young and didn't have anything wrong with them.  After all that, nobody had wanted to marry the daughter,  not that you could blame them.  So she lived alone, except for her housekeeper and gardener and  then she grew old and died of a heart attack.  That was a little anticlimactic, but as Hank pointed out when we heard the story, maybe she had been scared by a ghost.

We sat on the front steps and ate our sandwiches,  The Louisa got bored listening to Hank and me wondering if there were rats or bats or bums in the house and stood up.  "I'm going in there."

She was always more daring than I was, probably because she didn't have much imagination.  That can be a good thing sometimes.

I didn't know what to say.  I didn't want to do it, but I didn't want to seem afraid, although I was.  Hank was more practical.

"Oh, Louie, the door must be locked."

It was, but Louisa decided to try to back door.  "If that's locked, we can break a window with your lunch box."

We went around to the back on a stone path that was overgrown with grass and weeds.  The back steps wobbled, but Louisa pushed on the back door and it opened.  I was glad my lunchbox wasn't going to be scratched or the thermos broken.  I decided I had to go in.  After all, I was the oldest.

The kitchen still had a table and chairs covered with dust.  There was spider webs in the corners and even on the faucet in the sink.  I  ran my finger over the dust on the table.  "Don't do that," Hank said.  "The ghosts might get mad."

We went into what was probably the living room.  There wasn't any furniture there;  the kitchen had been dirty, but the empty rooms seemed so desolate that I shivered.  "Let's go home," I said.

"Don't be a baby.  Let's go upstairs." 

"Let's go home;  I have to go to the bathroom."

"You can go upstairs."  And she started to go up.  Hank and I followed her;  what else could we do?

Upstairs was a long hall with about five doors.  One was closed.  "That must be the bathroom,"  Louisa said.  I waited for her to come with me. "Well, go ahead."

 There were no windows in the bathroom.

"Keep the door open a crack, but don't look."  The bathroom was dusty too, but I really did have to go and it was better than the bushes.  As soon as I was finished and stood up, the door slammed shut.  I tried to open it, but I couldn't.  The knob turned, but I couldn't push it open.  I was in the dark.  If there were any spiders, I couldn't see them.

"Louie, open the door." 

"I cccccccan't,"  Louisa sounded scared.

I pushed again.  Nothing.  Were the ghosts holding the door shut?

"I'll go home for help," Hank offered. Were the ghosts waiting for them to leave so the could get me?  And I was more afraid of my parents finding out than of the ghosts.

"Louie, please."

"I'm trying."

I almost started to cry, but if I got out of this, alive she would never let me forget it. 

Suddenly the door opened.  I nearly fell into her.

We ran down the stairs, out the door, and down the lane.  Fortunately, Hank remembered the  lunch box.

My mother was surprised that we hadn't brought home any flowers or leaves.  Louisa said we had picked some, but I had left them behind after we ate.  "You know how she is."

I never told anyone about this until after Louisa died.  At the luncheon after her funeral, Hank and I were reminiscing and I mentioned the haunted house.

Hank looked sheepish. "Louie made me promise never to tell anyone, but  I guess it's all right now.  Louie was leaning against the door so you couldn't get out.  She said it was to make up for all the times you and your friends would play Princesses and would make her be the servant."





 

 

Ed -- the Dad and the Legend

Ed just snorted whenever anyone brought up the election.

"Just because I'm not carrying on, doesn't mean I don't care."  That's one of Ed's favorite lines. 

Betsey and her friends Izzy (Isabella) and Sam  (Samantha) want to be the Khardashian sisters.  It involves buying long wigs and short dresses. "And you know, Mom, we'll be able to wear the dresses after Halloween"

"Just like a bridesmaid's gown."  That was lost on her.

Ed is not a fan.  When Betsey told him, he Googled the Khardashians.  He didn't say much, but later he said he was glad that at least they weren't going to pad their butts.

The carnival is still going on, and naturally Ed and I try to take the kids every year.  They sit in the back seat playing video games and asking if we are there yet.  Ed, who can be quite literal at times, says, “No.  We are on the way.  If we were there the car wouldn’t be moving.”

“What if you’re parking the car?  Is that being there?”

Josh had him on that.

“It depends on what you mean by being and what you mean by there.”

After everyone had gone to bed, I was lying awake thinking about the olives and the picnics at my grandmother’s and Aunt Pooh’s houses.  “Isn’t it funny how my mother is remembered for her remark about olives [being so festive]?"

“You ought to have it put on her tombstone.”

I knew Ed was joking, but I wondered what my mother would have thought of that.  I hate to say it, but humor wasn’t her strong point.

I suddenly had a thought.  What were the grandchildren going to call me?  “What do you want our grandchildren to call you?”

“Charlie.  Seriously?”

“Grandma is fine for me, since that’s what I called my grandmother and that’s what they call three of their grandmothers.  Janet might not like them using the same name they did for Missy."

I had another idea.  “Maybe one of the grandchildren will have a cute name for me before he or she can really talk and everyone will use it.  Karen calls her grandmother Noo Noo.  It’s a long story.”

“Fine.  I’ll speak to the first grandchild about it.”

Ed Googled “Jesus and pigs” and now he can’t figure out why Jesus did it.  And what about the owners of the herd?  That was their livelihood.  That wasn’t right.

I felt a certain satisfaction when he brought it up last night.  I’m usually the one who starts the discussions.  I didn’t comment on the validity of the question, partly because I’m too polite and also because it had occurred to me, too.

“Can you imagine what would happen today if someone did that to somebody’s business?”  he sputtered.

“They would have sued him before you could say knife.”

“Damn right.”

“I’m just surprised they didn’t take it to the Pharisees.  They would have loved it.”

“But the Pharisees wouldn’t have cared, because pigs were unclean anyway and the owners would have been Gentiles, who didn’t count.”

“But it would have been a chance to get Jesus.”

“Yeah, they missed an opportunity there.”

“I never paid attention [in Sunday School].  I thought church was a bore.  By the time I got to college, I was practically an atheist.”

I was surprised to hear that. “But I met you at the college Episcopalian group.”

“Oh . . . well, I saw you around and I thought you were cute.  So I asked some people and somebody told me you went there."

 

 

Ed got me these horse head squirrel feeders for Valentine's Day.  I got him socks with hearts.

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