As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
Since the mother went tits up, I have been checking the obits online far more often than not. Sorry need to give Poot a warning to not piss on me, as Poot is tuned up by outside cat smells on me.
It amazes me in the people buried here. There are people who give no explanations, but are dumped in the ground here. People who have not been here since graduating, are getting dumped in the ground here.
The brier patch must be a great place to get buried in.
Poot is now laying between my feet looking docile.
Some things in the obits bother me in I have seen a few kids who were older than me at Gestapo High who have been dead for some time and their parents have died. One looked like Billy Zane and I wonder what their lives were and why they ended and why I am alive.
My class has not had allot of deaths in it. I think there were just two. That is pretty good in just a drunk crash and some weird midget disease.
I have had to contemplate death a bit more as the Uncle found out his cousin, my cousin too just died. I thought he was getting better, but he croaked in the hospital. He is the father of the prick relatives who refused to sell us two abandoned homesteads they owned. There time is coming too, but we had to go over and check on the Uncle to make sure he did not stroke out.
There was a name in the obit though that I was trying to figure out and as the obit was incomplete, I happened upon there again and noted I really did know this woman, even if she looked nothing like I remember.
These people were our neighbors until I was about six. They had nothing. The dad went goofy when his grandparents who were rich did not leave him a dime, and he went on a crime spree and ended up in prison. He turned his life around and we did see him again and he was still a good guy.
I used to crush on their one child and the kid crushed on me too, but divorce moves families apart, and I did not know where they were, except the dad and oldest son, were in Washington state. The mother though was living here and died in the geezer home.
Those people were my first memories. I was pulling a wagon, turned too short and dumped the kids out and they bawled. I felt bad.
They had nothing, but when I was four, they gave me a birthday card with two Kennedy 50 cent pieces, which I saved as I had no money. I can still remember them fighting about giving that card to me.
The hurt though of those 50 cent pieces remains as I saved them, and when I was 14 I need money for school. I came to ask the mother for the 14 dollars I needed, which was for lunch ticket, student pass, annual, and she was a real bitch and said she had no money. That was bullshit as she was being a royal bitch. Of course my asshole sister did not volunteer any money for me to pay back, so I had to sort through the coins I saved, and all I had in the end were the two Kennedy 50 cent pieces which I had to spend on school.
I asked the mother what the hell she did that for, but she always played stupid. So I never got an answer for that hurtful deed. I guess it was ok as the last 100 dollars my beloved Uncle gave me for doing chores, she made me spend on Cipro as I was really sick. She had the money, and that time she wouldn't go to the clinic with me, as she had to "work". It is memories like that, which make me think that 7000 dollars to bury her we were stuck with and still dealing with, that I should have just left her on top of the ground.
Ruth was the dead woman's name. I think she had a crap family who bore her, but all she went through she educated herself and became a nurse, I would have liked to have known she was in the country, but who the hell knows if she would have even known me. She never said anything when the mother died, and I doubt the condolences I posted will get a response from the kids as we were all so little.
That was a brier patch lifetime ago. So many lies to believe in hope that life would be good, and it just turned out like shit for everyone. Odd how I can still hear her raspy voice and those times come back. I remember her husband drove a Pepsi truck and he used to drop pop off here. I grew up with a determination that what I wanted for a job was to drive a pop truck or an ice cream truck, as no better vocation could ever rest upon me. I would have been better off if I had went after those jobs, as I doubt I would have been happy, but writing for rich people to no donate as life waxes on sucks shit too.
I suspect that the tide is going to roll in more in more people I knew of and knew will begin dying in this phase of my life. Is odd as we see old people in the Thrift and they disappear and then they appear in the obits having died. At least the mystery is solved, but it is getting hard to remember all the dead as people's parents are dying, grandparents are going cold and the kids I thought were alive have been dead for years.
Poot is in the recliner grooming. Poot is a happy smiling kitty now. Is a good thing as most people have to wait until they are dead to have some peace.
Let the dead bury the dead. Sure would save on funeral expenses and it always means I care more for people than they ever will care for me.
Nuff Said
agtG
