Memories Monday -- Later that day . . .

By lunch we had loosened up, like people standing outside a funeral home during a viewing “for some fresh air.”   We talked about our last conversation with Margaret or marveled that we couldn’t remember when we had it.  “You just never know, do you?”  I have to admit I almost felt proud that I’d actually known Margaret.

Other things discussed:

The viewing:  Would there be one?  What would there be to view?

What we wanted done with us when we die:  The usual “just stick me in a garbage bag and put me on the curb” won.  Runner up was “shove me in the freezer” (with a nervous laugh).  No one wanted an open casket.  I want a nice Episcopal service with my favorite hymns and scriptures.

Whether there would be more break-ins that would go bad and whether we should get security systems or would signs that said we had security systems be just as good?  The consensus was that Margaret had left her door unlocked, which we never do.  So we’re all safe.

Your Father, My Father and That Woman

When Missy and Janet became friends again, I thought we were going to be an even bigger happy family.  Ed was not particularly pleased.

He said that his mother and Missy had been Leftist-Hippy Lucy and Ethel in their day, getting together and carrying on and dragging him and Allison and Missy’s kids to protest marches and peace vigils.  “It’s a miracle we didn’t get lung cancer from all the secondhand pot smoke.  And the music!  Dear God, the music!  How many roads can a man walk down before they call him a man?  Solidarity forever!  I caught my mother singing that to Betsey when she was a baby.  I made her switch to “Jesus Loves Me”.  We’d come home from school and all there would be in the house was about three M & M’s.   We had to eat apples for snacks!”  Ed was on a roll.

I had to admit I didn’t have those problems, since my grandmother was always bringing cookies over to my house because I was a poor little thing with whose mother didn’t bake and my mother played special children’s classical music for me.

I thought Allison would be delighted, since she wanted everyone to be “healed”.  So I was surprised, to say the least, when I got a call from her. 

Without even saying hello, she said, “Well, I hope you’re happy.”

I didn’t know what she was referring to.  “I’m usually happy, yes.”

“Well, it’s good someone is because my father’s heart is broken.  Though I suppose your father and that woman are delirious.”

“What woman?”

“Your husband’s and my stepmother.  She’ll probably be your stepmother soon, until she gets tired of your father.”

It seemed as if Allison had forgotten everyone’s name.  But as far as I could make out, Missy had left Doug for my father.

“I suppose my mother and Pastor Parker were in on it, too.”

I guess she couldn’t think of a designation for Kate.  “Janet and Mother Parker had nothing to do with it.  People fall in love.  And as a matter of fact” (I knew that wasn’t nice, but it was true)”what started this whole thing off was your suggesting we invite your father to the wedding.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if I’d known what your father was capable of.”

“Do you want to talk to Ed?”  Ed had disappeared, but Cilla was sitting on the sofa, being very quiet so she wouldn’t miss anything.  She has a sixth sense when it comes to finding drama.

“You know he’s useless with this stuff.” 

Well, at least we could agree about that.                     

I haven’t heard from my father.  I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to call him.  I’m not up to it right now.

I just hope that Missy won’t mind staying with the kids on Christmas Eve.

Memories Monday -- Holy Homicide!

 It feels strange to be sitting at my desk, next to Margaret’s.   I can’t really concentrate.  Maybe if I write about it will help.

Yesterday, Church was buzzing with the murder.  They had Margaret in the prayers for the dead.  And a sermon about how horrible violence is.   I  feel terrible about Margaret and her family.   But it still doesn’t seem real. 

The general feeling was that it was a break-in gone bad,  which makes us all nervous.   I was the Queen of Coffee Hour once word got around that I’d known Margaret.  But I didn’t have much to offer except that even after all those years I didn’t have much to offer.

The cupcakes were a big hit.
 

I wondered what the library would be like today.  Would everyone be as excited as my fellow worshippers had been or would we be quiet, huddling together like a bereaved family?

Everyone came in quite soberly and sat down at their desks without the usual good morning banter.  Every once in a while someone would walk past Margaret’s desk, look at her chair, and then hurry on.  I wondered if they were thinking that they ought to say something to me, as if I had a special claim on Margaret since I sat next to her.  “Sorry, Charlie.”  When I thought of that, I started giggling.  Ever since those tuna commercials people have been saying “Sorry, Charlie” to me.  Unfortunately, Bill Cleveland, the head librarian, was walking by my desk at the time.  I must have looked guilty, because he patted me on the shoulder and said, “Everyone grieves differently, Charlie.”

I just nodded.

Kate Promotes Healing

Kate invited Missy to the Rectory for lunch with lots of wine and a butter cake (Janet’s favorite) for dessert.  She also put out M & M’s, since Janet had told her that she had kept them around the house in lieu of baking cookies for the children and she and Missy used to eat them with their coffee.  Janet told me that Missy had “gotten a snootful” and cried when she saw the M & M’s, to which Kate added, “And she wasn’t the only one.”

I asked what Doug thought of all this and Janet said Missy told her that he had other interests.  “If you know what I mean.”

I said, “Do you mean sports?”

“No, Charlie.  The same interests he had when we were married.”  She looked at Kate.  “You see, I’m not in denial.”

Kate shook her head.  “I don’t know how she gets along in the world.”  She whispered in my ear, as if she thought I’d be embarrassed, “He fools around.”

“Well, what can she expect?”  I said.  “If they fool around with you, they’ll fool around on you.”
For some reason they both looked surprised.

“I’m not as innocent as people think, you know.”

Janet reached over and patted my hand.  “Of course you’re not, dear.  No one could be.”

MEMORIES MONDAY. The Beginning

Welcome to Memories Monday!  This is how it all began.

January’s Over!

February 11:  I’m so glad January’s over.  Not that February is anything to write home about.  But at least there’s Valentine’s Day.  Today my co-worker Margaret and I ran out to the mall at lunch.  I got the girls shirts with hearts and a Spiderman t-shirt for Josh.  At least it’s red.  Maybe I can find some silly things in the dollar store. 

Margaret just sends cards to her niece and nephew.  (Isn’t it funny how English doesn’t have a gender neutral word for one’s sibling’s children?  Or one’s siblings for that matter.  Of course that’s never been a problem for me, having only a half-sister.)  But Margaret gives them each ten dollars!  We got back just in time and had to eat our lunch on our break. 

Anyway, I have to take the kids out tonight to get something for Ed.  Maybe a red tie or red socks or boxers with hearts.  That way, they can remind him to take them out to get something for me.  It’s not that I want anything, but it would be embarrassing if I had something for him and he didn’t have anything for me.

Valentine’s Day is Sunday.  I promised to bring something for Coffee Hour and I think I’ll make cupcakes and put Valentine sprinkles on them.  Maybe they even have little candy hearts.  I can get some conversation hearts, too, and put them on some.  (My friend Karen told me that she saw some dirty conversation hearts in the fancy candy store.  Maybe I should get a bag for Ed.  But what if I got them mixed up and put them on the church cupcakes?  Karen says I have the mind of a situation comedy writer.  Maybe she’s right.)

Dear Reader, I don’t know what you think of this, but I’m having fun.  Let me know.

A SPECIAL BONUS POST FOR THE FIRST MEMORIES MONDAY

 

February 13 A Terrible Thing Has Happened!

A terrible thing has happened!  Margaret was stabbed to death in her own house.  I was making the cupcakes for church when I heard it on the radio.  Fortunately Ed had taken the kids out shopping.

If a casting director had wanted a perfect librarian, he or she would have found her in Margaret.  She was in her fifties, had never married and was a Republican and a Methodist. She dyed her hair but wore it short.  Her clothes were nice enough, suits and dresses that looked expensive.  Not that I would know for sure.  We’d worked together for years, but had never progressed to the point of talking about how much things cost. 

Mostly we talked about books.  I had never had anyone I could talk about Dickens with or who understood when I said I had a “love-hate relationship with Jane Austen.”

I feel like I’m in one of those mystery novels in which everyone keeps saying, “How could this happen here?” 

I called Karen, and she said, “Almost in the family.”  I guess it is.

Memories Monday, An Introduction

Dear Readers,

Are you puzzled by some of the things going on?

Would you like to know what happened earlier?

Would you like to reread some of your favorite posts?

If so, welcome to Memories Monday!!!!!!

Every Monday, you can read an old post from Meet the McDonalds, starting from the beginning.

Later on in the week, you can read Charlie’s latest entry. 

Something is always happening and Charlie always has something to say about it.

To get started, here is the introduction, even though it isn’t Monday

 

Meet the McDonalds

Soon to Be America’s Favorite Fictional Family

A new genre?

I got tired of submitting stories, waiting to hear from the publishers, and then being rejected.  I’ve written several stories about the McDonalds, a typical small college town family.  I wondered what they (particularly Charlotte, the mom) would have to say in a blog.

So Charlotte will be blogging about the McDonalds (with my help, of course).

Here they are:

Charlotte (known to everyone as Charlie): a former English major who hadn’t wanted to teach (or, as she herself would admit, do much else besides get married and have children).  She works in the college library and still loves to read.  She is a devout Episcopalian;  this started in college as rebellion against her Unitarian parents, but she is, as she would say, “really into it.”

She’ll tell you about everyone else,

This will not be in real time.  When one story ends another may begin years earlier or later, depending on my imagination.

But to begin:

February 10:  Old English majors never die.  They end up editing church newsletters and knowing all the answers to the literature questions on Jeopardy.  I never burned to Write, but I thought it might be fun to keep a diary, a record of the family.  Then I thought, “Why not a blog?  That way I can share it.  Maybe even make money!!!!”  Of course I’ll be careful; no dirty secrets of the McDonalds.  Actually, we don’t have any.

So I bought a copy of Blogging for Dummies, and here I am.

My name is Charlotte McDonald, but everyone calls me Charlie.  I work in a college library.  In my spare time, (such as it is) I read.  Most of the time, I go to work or do Mom things.

I met my husband Ed in college when he had a beard.  He love computers and baseball.

Our children are:

Betsey (the second “e” is in honor of Betsey Trotwood, David Copperfield’s aunt), our oldest child. Betsey is ironically reserved, surveying the antics of her siblings (and her mother and her friends) sometimes with amusement and sometimes mortification.

Joshua, two years younger than Betsey,  is the least complicated of the children.  You just need to feed him, let him run around, and laugh at his jokes.

Priscilla (Cilla) is two years younger than Josh, an intense but cuddly drama princess.

Duke the Labradoodle and Nigel the cat

 

A Puzzling Conversation

The Easter service was very nice.  Unlike last year, Josh’s shirt stayed tucked in and Ed remembered to zip his pants.  But something weird happened afterward.

I had everyone over for Easter dinner.  Kate says she feels like a rock star who just got back from a world tour after Holy Week, so we let her sit and wait on her, while Janet helps me in the kitchen.  I don’t know how restful it is to have kids fighting over who will sit by you and have the youngest one in your lap, but she seems to enjoy it.

I was in the den getting something, when I noticed my father talking to her.  Usually he and Ed talk about sports and look for games on TV.  “You know, Kate, for a minister you really are pretty sensible.”

Before Kate could say thank you, he said, “Don’t you think you could do better for yourself?  Oh, I don’t mean a man,” he said hastily.  “I mean better than Janet.”

Kate sighed like a mother who has just been told for the hundredth time that her kid doesn’t like peas.  “Why do you have such a problem with Janet?  I think she’s nice.”  Sometimes it’s hard to tell when Kate is being ironic.

“She allowed her son to marry Charlie when she was just out of college.  And she keeps saying she prays for me.”

“I told her that if she does she won’t find you so annoying.  I don’t think it’s working yet, though.”

“She probably isn’t trying hard enough.”

“I’ll speak to her about it.” I couldn’t believe that Kate was teasing my father.  I don’t know if he was getting it.

“You know, Missy is heartbroken and feels guilty because of that mess.  I told her that Janet feels she did her a favor.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Can you talk to her?”

“Missy?”

“No, your wife.”

“I prefer ‘life partner,’ since wives have always been treated so badly.”

“Well, can you?”

“Well, it would be healing, and I can’t refuse to promote healing. . . Does this make me a wing person?”

“Good one, Katie.”

It’s been six months since my father talked to Missy at the wedding.  Has he been talking to her since then?  Fortunately she’s married, so I don’t have to worry about whether she’ll have a problem with staying with the kids while we go to the midnight service on Christmas Eve.