After the internment, the crowd reconvened at the local chicken joint, a meal paid for by the deceased.
*****
Just as raindrops began to fall, we parked our car outside of Chicken Mary's, an iconic restaurant outside of Pittsburg, KS. Richard opened his car door at the same time as a frail white-haired woman who walked with two canes had; Richard pulled his door back quickly.
"I really have to go," the woman cackled as she climbed out of the car. "With a crowd this old, all we do is go to the bathroom. Better prepare for a line."
On the front door, a hastily scrawled note announced, "Private party only. Restaurant opens at four." So Aunt Norma had arranged a private party for us, then.
Inside, I noticed that Chicken Mary's hadn't bothered much with the indoor decor. Dark paneling, occasional random items decorating the wall, wagon wheel chandeliers, a wrought iron fireplace placed in a narrow aisle where it could never be used lest it set the servers on fire.
A couple tall, rangy women with shirts with the Chicken Mary's logo embroidered over the left breast circulated around the tables, formica and metal, to collect drink orders.
*****
Just as raindrops began to fall, we parked our car outside of Chicken Mary's, an iconic restaurant outside of Pittsburg, KS. Richard opened his car door at the same time as a frail white-haired woman who walked with two canes had; Richard pulled his door back quickly.
"I really have to go," the woman cackled as she climbed out of the car. "With a crowd this old, all we do is go to the bathroom. Better prepare for a line."
On the front door, a hastily scrawled note announced, "Private party only. Restaurant opens at four." So Aunt Norma had arranged a private party for us, then.
Inside, I noticed that Chicken Mary's hadn't bothered much with the indoor decor. Dark paneling, occasional random items decorating the wall, wagon wheel chandeliers, a wrought iron fireplace placed in a narrow aisle where it could never be used lest it set the servers on fire.
A couple tall, rangy women with shirts with the Chicken Mary's logo embroidered over the left breast circulated around the tables, formica and metal, to collect drink orders.
I sat down next to a plump, white haired woman who was probably Richard's aunt, given that she looked like two others in the room. She hugged me and said, "Didn't Norma look beautiful in her coffin?"
I recognized this as a place where the truth would not be welcome. "Yes," I said, "she looked lovely."
I recognized this as a place where the truth would not be welcome. "Yes," I said, "she looked lovely."
"I recognized this as a place where the truth would not be welcome. "Yes," I said, "she looked lovely"
ReplyDeleteIf only we could all remember this simple evaluation and yet, all to often we are caught up in dealing with the emotional tantrum within ourselves and eager to share the emotional beating with others.