I got a call on my land line the other night. I figured it was my mom, since no one else calls me on that phone, but, what to my surprise, I say hello and some young girl starts talking, "This is Jennifer with Crown Hill Cemetery, how are you today?" WTF??!!! "No, it's not an emergency, this is a courtesy call. We're going to be in your area and we'd like to leave you pamphlets." ???? Strangely enough, earlier that morning I'd just finished reading 'My Sister, My Love' by Joyce Carol Oates. The main character had just attended his mother's over the top 1980s-ish funeral. He spends some time thinking about how much detail she put into the planning of her own funeral.
The girl on the phone was so insistent. "Have you done any planning? We're going to have someone in your neighborhood tomorrow and we can leave some pamphlets." Did she know something I didn't? The economy is so bad cemeteries have to canvas neighborhoods for business?
Really weird day.
Later on, I had to truck downtown to the post office before they closed. On my way out the front door of the post office I see a woman with a couple of cloth bags, a hat, a cane, and a drink from Einstein bakery standing on the top of the steps and looking about. "Shoot", she says to no one in particular, "I've missed the bus and it won't be back until 4:47." I turn to check her out and ask, "Where do you live?" She looked completely harmless and completely interesting. "I can give you a ride."
On the way to her house, Patricia explained that she'd sent her college age daughter a thick blanket for camping. There were so many folks out walking their dogs. When I bought this up, Patricia said, "Are you a dog person?" It was then that I noticed she was wearing a Bichon Frise sweat shirt. "My dog writes poetry." Yes, it turns out Patricia Walworth Wood, in collaboration with her dog Rive, has written an illustrated book of poems called, Thoughts, Oughts, Naughts.
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