LUCY: THE CLEVEREST OF THEM ALL

Every year when February is finally over, I swear that the next time it rolls around that I will crawl into bed, cover my head and stay there until March 1st.  But I don’t.  As the rest of the year rolls on, the memory of February’s pain and general stinkiness wanes and when it does arrive the next year………I am taken by surprise and caught in its clutches again.  It just kinda sneaks up on me.  February is a very sneaky month.

Tomorrow marks the sixth anniversary of the day my mother, Lucy, died.  It doesn’t seem possible.  She is still, and I guess always will be, a very real presence in my life.  As much as I loved her, I never imagined that I could miss her this much.  It’s the little things that find me in a puddle.  And it’s the little things that make me smile and remember with warm, wet tears streaming down my face that my family was blessed with an extraordinary gift from God.  She taught us well, kept us in check, and straightened us out when we found ourselves on a crooked path.

Thanks, Lucy!  You were the BEST!

To help me wipe away the moisture leaking from my eyes as I write this, I thought I would bring you another Lucy story.  My previous Lucy stories showed you her wit but Lucy was smart too.  Clever, clever, clever.  Allow me to demonstrate:

The following story was told to me by my mother’s dear friend on the day of Lucy’s memorial service in Indiana. 

When my parents first retired, they bought a place in Florida and would spend the winters in the land of the sunshine and their summers in Indiana.  The best of both worlds, right?  Turns out…..not so much.  You see, when you neglect a property for six months of the year, it takes the next six months  to get it back up to par.  Retirement was hard work and they realized they were “doing it wrong”.   And so they decided to take the leap.  They would sell the house in Indiana and make their permanent residence in the sunshine state.
This created a whole new problem.  Even with two households, storage was a problem for my packrat mother.  My father put his foot down and insisted that she downsize their “stuff”.  Everyone accumulates stuff over the years but my mother was a master in this field.  The woman had STUFF.
 
Knowing that the task at hand was larger than herself, she gathered her friends together to help her.  As she sorted things, she would tell this one to “put this in that pile.”  She would tell another friend “to put this in that pile.”  And so it went.  She threw out a lot. She gave away a lot.  But slowly her friends realized that she was still keeping way more than what my father was allowing.  “Lucy, he’s never going to let you take all this stuff to Florida.”  She told them, “Never mind about that, just box up that pile over there.” 

And so it continued.  For days, my mother and her friends would sort through her belongings.  Each time someone would gently remind her that she was supposed to be downsizing, she would wave them away saying, “Don’t worry about that.  Just box up that pile over there for me.” 

When the very last box was sealed, she piled the ones that would go to Florida in one corner and then she looked at her friend, who I will call Hellen……because that is her name, and said, “Hellen, you take the rest of the boxes to your house and put them in your barn.  I have a plan.”

Now when you’re from Indiana and you move to Florida, people will come.  “People will come, Ray.  People will most certainly come.”  (Movie, anyone???)  And people did come.  Among the friends and family members who came to visit every year was Hellen and her family. 

Activate “Operation: I GET TO KEEP MY STUFF AND HE WILL NEVER BE THE WISER

Each time my mother heard that Hellen and her family were coming to Florida, she would instruct Hellen which box to collect from her barn and bring to Florida.  One by one, visit by visit, my mother had every single one of those boxes delivered to her and Daddy never knew a thing.  That is until the day of the memorial service when Hellen shared the story with us.  I love this story.  I love it for so many reasons.  I love how it shows just how truly clever Lucy was.  I love the covertness of it all.  And I really love Hellen for giving it to us when we needed it the most.  It gave a smile and a warm memory to comfort me when I’m feeling blue like I am today.

Thanks, Hellen. 

I love you, Mom.  I miss you more everyday.

Dear readers, if you are still here, thank you for sharing this memory with me as I work through my feelings and therapize myself.  And I do feel better now, thank you very much.

If you would like to read more Lucy stories, just type Lucy in that little search widget in the top left corner of this page.  I’m too lazy to link them all.

Patrick has a new update on the Hope for Haiti blog.  Click here to read.

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

I’M BECOMING MY MOTHER

It’s official. I’m becoming my mother.

If you’re a new reader here, you may not have heard about my mother, Lucy. She has been gone now for over five years but remains an ever-present influence on my life. She was quite the character. I guess if I had to pick one story to sum her up it would be this one……and this one. (Yeah, yeah…It’s my blog, I can count as I please.)

Go on, click the links…..You won’t regret it.

I don’t really have a Lucy story for you today. Instead I am confessing that I have become my mother. Allow me to present the evidence:

Lucy was a stickler for proper grammar. And correct spelling. And legible handwriting. I remember walking home from elementary school with a friend on report card day. She told me how happy she was because she got a “C” in Spelling and would finally be ungrounded. I was stunned! I was certain that I would BE grounded if I got a “C” in Spelling.

Until the day she died, Lucy would not let me complete a sentence without correcting my grammar. It drove her crazy to hear people end a sentence with a preposition. And we lived in Indiana! I think it’s an Indiana state law that you have to end a sentence with a preposition at least once a day. “Where’s my coat at?”

Since Lucy is no longer here to correct my grammar, I’ve begun to do it myself. The other day at the grocery I said something to the cashier and didn’t use correct grammar. I admonished myself all the way to the car……OUT LOUD. So now people not only think I’m uneducated but also that I’m a lunatic that holds entire conversations with herself. *sigh*

Daughter #1 asked me to proof a letter she was sending the other day. After giving her my corrections, she asked, “Do you correct other blogger’s grammar in your head as you read?” I made a face and said a firm, “NO! Of course not!” She continued to stare at me with raised eyebrows………….and I crumbled.

“It’s not like I leave comments with corrections or anything. I just notice.” She nodded with the satisfaction of “I knew it!”

I can't help myself. I've been conditioned all my life. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not an English expert. You won’t always see proper grammar and spelling here. Sometimes, it is because I’m feeling like a rebel and sometimes it’s because I just missed it and sometimes, despite Lucy's efforts, I just don't know any better. I will tell you that after more than a year of blogging, I’ve stopped going back and reading and re-reading my own posts 27 times a day, editing as I go. I still probably read what I’ve written no less than five times before I publish. I know…it’s an illness. Nevertheless Lucy would be proud as long as I don’t end my sentence with a preposition.

Now, where’s my sweater at? It’s getting chilly. *wink*

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

PUT A CORK IN IT – A LUCY STORY

Some of you may not have been reading here long enough to have ever read a Lucy story so allow me to introduce you: Lucy was my mother. Her real name was not Lucy but Lucille Ball is about the best description I can give you of my very goofy mother. She was smart, beautiful, generous and kind but she took goofy to a whole new level and it was what we all loved best about her.

Our toy poodle, Gidget, had puppies when I was in the third grade. Gidget was a registered toy but she was much bigger. Thank goodness too because she ended up having six puppies.

I came home from school surprised to find Lucy at home. She would normally be at work at that time. I walked into her bedroom and found her aiding Gidget with the delivery of our new puppies. Now what seven year old girl isn’t going to want to see, play with and hold new puppies? Lucy knew that but she wasn’t really interested in my assistance. What she really wanted was to get me out of the house as Gidget was not faring well with the delivery and the puppies just kept coming.

As previously mentioned, Lucy was smart. Instead of ordering me outside to play (which never would have worked), she enlisted me in her mission. She issued my orders clearly and precisely.

“Get on your bike and ride uptown to the hardware store to get me a cork. This darn dog won’t stop having puppies and I need to put a cork in to stop her.”

Now, you know that I didn’t just walk in, buy the cork and leave. Nooooooo. I was way too excited for that. I had to tell the owner and all the employees there that I was on a very special mission. I needed a cork to stop my dog from having puppies. There were already too many, you see.

Yeah, they’re still laughing about it.

I MISS LUCY

It’s been awhile since I’ve written a Lucy post. I can think of no better way to celebrate Mother’s Day here in SMBland than to talk about Lucy, my beloved mother who died a little over 5 years ago. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her more and more. So many things have happened in our lives in the past five years and it breaks my heart that she couldn’t share them with us. I don’t know how this Heaven thing works but I believe there is one and I like to think that Lucy has box seats and is watching over us all.

Lucy was one of a kind. Everyone thought so. Everyone loved her. She was smart, beautiful, funny and took GOOFY to a whole new level. The goofiness is what I loved most about her.

Lucy was married for seventeen years to my siblings’ father before she married my dad. Daddy was eleven years younger than Lucy. The age difference was never noticeable until Lucy was in her 80s and got sick. She was always very young looking and could run circles around women many years her junior including me. She had so much energy.

My mother got a kick out of shocking people. I should mention that Lucy moved to our small town in Indiana when she married my father. I think it’s fair to say that many people just didn’t know what to make of her.

Lucy loved to tell people that when she got married, her husband was only 9 years old. Of course she was talking about when she married her first husband and saying that her second husband was nine. Sometimes she would explain, sometimes, she didn’t bother and would just leave them wondering. She also liked to say, “My husband was eleven years old when I had my first child.” You can imagine the reaction she would get. And she loved it.

God, I miss her.

If you missed my previous Lucy stories and would like to read them, they are linked below.

A Strange Telephone Conversation

I Love Lucy

A Roadtrip with Lucy

Lucyisms – A Language all her own

I’m Fine – Really Just Fine

Lucy – Mother Extraordinaire

Whether you’re celebrating Mother’s Day or you’re not……………….I wish you the very best day ever.

Hugs and kisses,

SMB

I’M FINE, REALLY JUST FINE (A Lucy Story)

Do you watch the Ghost Whisperer? I'm somewhat of a new fan to this program but really enjoy it. Do you think we can communicate with the dead? Can they leave us messages? Do our loved ones who've gone before us watch over and protect us? These are questions that I can't answer but I assume when I get to heaven (God willing….literally) that it will all become clear. Until then, I'm going to choose to believe that even though my mother, Lucy, died almost five years ago, she still watches over me.

Lucy died from colon cancer. It was without a doubt, the most difficult time in my life to date. Our family was fortunate that we had many friends and family members who came to visit, called to give encouragement and were there for us during this heart-breaking time. Eventually the formalities that we all practice became humorous to me. People would greet me by saying, "How are you?" I would answer, "Fine." Of course, I wasn't really fine. I would giggle to myself. OK, I didn't actually giggle. It was just a little game I played in my head.

You see, months before Lucy became ill; I had been in church listening to a guest speaker. He spoke of how we all greet people by asking how they are, never meaning for them to really tell us. We just expect them to say "fine" so we can move on. He went on to say that most of us are hurting in some way but will still answer that question by saying "fine."

He then proceeded to give the word fine as an acronym.

F=fearful

I=insecure

N=neurotic

E=…………..uh…………………..Damn, I can never remember E.

Each time a friend would ask me how I was doing. I would answer that I was fine. But in my head, I was reciting that I was F.I.N.........E?????? And then I would go on racking my brain to remember what the E was for.

After Lucy passed, I was going through some of her things. I came across a church bulletin from my church. I should mention here that my parents live 200 miles north of where I live so we did not attend the same church. When I opened the bulletin, I saw that it was from that same day when we had the guest speaker and there in my mother's handwriting were the letters:

F=fearful; I=insecure; N=neurotic; E=emotional!

That's it! I couldn't believe that I had forgotten it. No matter how hard I had tried, I couldn't remember what the "E" stood for. Mom to the rescue, once again. I didn't even remember that she had been with me in church that day. But there it was in black and white, the answer for which I had been searching.

I smiled and thanked her with tears in my eyes. But they were happy tears. Because at that moment, I knew that Lucy was still watching over me. Like every mother does for her child. And I believe she always will.

Have you had a similar experience?

I LOVE LUCY

Note: The last time I mentioned my mother in this blog it caused quite a ruckus in my family unbeknownst to me at first. My brother, Smitty, who lives on Maui, doesn't read this blog. However his friend, Pualani does. I wrote about having a conversation with my mother in a dream and how heart-warming it was to hear her voice. Pualani shared this with Smitty who promptly called my sister, Snips, in Indiana. He suggested an intervention might be in order as he thought I had dropped my basket because I was hearing voices or at least THE voice of our dear and departed mother. Snips told him she would check out the blog and get back to him. She read it and realized that I was talking about a dream and not hearing voices and assured him that I wasn't in any danger of visiting the funny farm any time soon. Smitty, not completely convinced, called me and said, "What is this b.o.l.g. thing you're doing? Are you OK? You're not going off the deep end, are you?" GEESH! Well, Smitty and Snips, here I go again. I hope you enjoy reminiscing about Mom as much as I do and will not call out the guys in white coats just yet.

I would like to introduce you to Lucy. Lucy is my mother. Lucy is not her real name. Lucy has been gone now for four and a half years. I thought long and hard about what to call Mom on this blog. Like many, I choose to rename my friends and family for the sake of some sort of anonymity. I've chosen the name, Lucy because to describe her to someone who has never met her, my best attempt would be to liken her to a cross between Lucille Ball's character in I Love Lucy and Grace Kelly. She was more Lucy than Princess Grace especially in her later years but there was a definite sophistication and grace to her that was always evident even through her antics. Lucy was a unique individual. I always knew this but it was never more evident than when I listened to countless stories at her memorial services. As children, we view our parents from our perspective only, who they are as a parent. Listening to her friends and mine, I had the opportunity to really see who she was outside of my parent box that I kept her in and how she affected so many others.

Memories of Lucy provide me with a smile daily and usually several times a day. She was so loved and so much a part of my life that even now as I write this, I am having trouble seeing the screen through my tears….four and a half years later.

I have in my heart a wealth of Lucy stories. Don't worry, I won't lay them all on you at once. But if you will allow me to (and if you don't I'll do it anyway….it IS my blog) I will share them with you one or two at a time every now and again. I hope you will enjoy them. I hope that you will come to love her too. I wish you could have met her. She would have been the quintessential blogger. Of this, I am sure. And she would have been my biggest fan.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Lucy, Mother Extraordinaire!

When my mother married my father, she was a recent divorcee, a mother of 3 teenagers and a city girl. My father moved her to his small hometown in Indiana. My mother was a little goofy and her humor was sometimes lost on the very traditional women of our little town.

When I was in the fourth grade, my cousin came to live with us. It was her senior year in high school. She loved to sew. She would sew her own clothes. She would sew clothes for me and my Barbies. One day after several trips that same week to the Ben Franklin store to buy sewing supplies for my cousin, my mother was once again there buying fabric. While the two clerks were measuring and cutting, Lucy started up a conversation. She said, "Sew, sew, sew! All that kid wants to do is sew. You'd think she would go out and smoke pot like the rest of the kids but noooooooooooo, all she wants to do is sew."

It's a small town. I think they're still talking about it.