Lillie Paseur
Celebrates 90th Birthday
While, I’ve had occasion to be at a
number of ninetieth birthday parties in the past ten years, none have been
for members of my family. Oh, there was the 102nd birthday for
a great aunt on Dad’s side back in ’97, but otherwise the parties
honored a friend or a relative of a friend. However, last weekend, Barbara
Carter hosted a birthday party at the Pontotoc Hospital Nursing Home for
her mother, who turned ninety this week.
Lillie Paseur, whom I normally refer to as "Lillie Belle" has lived longer
than I would have predicted as few as ten years ago. Her chest pains had
doctors convinced that she had heart related problems on multiple occasions.
Only after three heart catheterizations in a ten-year period were they convinced
otherwise.
After Lillie Belle came to live with us, I figured respiratory failure would
end her life, because she would develop bronchitis about as often as the
weather changed. Later, I decided a doctor would accidentally kill her by
prescribing an antibiotic to which she was allergic. Of the known antibiotics,
there none she can take, at least for now.
Now that Barbara doesn’t try to get her mother out of the nursing home
to visit us, and now that she doesn’t consent to her going on field
trips with other residents, Lillie Belle’s respiratory problems have
all but disappeared. Heck, now that she’s ninety, she may live to be
a hundred.
Dementia has robbed us of the woman we once loved and left us with someone
who looks like Lillie Belle at ninety, but the person we see in the flesh
is not the one we know so well. The Lillie Belle who’s ninety doesn’t
know who we are on most visits unless we tell her, and she has no idea how
old she really is. She, also, doesn’t know who she is without a bit
of coaxing and coaching.
Lillie Belle responds to our questions, though often the words she vocalizes
are unrelated except to mention that they’re words that can be found
in a dictionary as opposed to words of utter gibberish. Oddly, she can read
words in print with relative ease, and whenever church groups conduct sing-alongs
in the activity room, Lillie Belle can sing the words to all the familiar
hymns. As best we can tell, she spends her days working, at least in her
mind, and is often found "helping" the nurses and aides at the desk. They
allow her to sit behind the desk in her wheelchair, where she peruses magazines.
Every family has a caregiver. An elderly person may have one or more siblings
and may possibly have several children, but typically only one family member
rises to claim the title, "caregiver." Lillie Belle has four sisters, none
of whom would be able to care for her. Barbara’s brother claims he is
unable to "deal with" or "handle" his mother’s situation. But luckily,
Barbara, the baby in the family, took up the caregiver mantel, and, by all
accounts, has done well.
Barbara felt it was important for her mother to have a ninetieth birthday
party, so she planned it, sent the invitations, ordered a cake, commissioned
me to make homemade ice cream, and arranged for the party to be held in the
activity room at the nursing home. It may not have been important for Lillie
Belle, but it was important for Barbara, herself, to be able to celebrate
a milestone in her mother’s life.
None of Lillie Belle’s sisters were able to attend, but two of her
sisters-in-law were. A family reunion, it wasn’t, though several
grandchildren and great grandchildren, nieces, and nephews, were present
for the celebration, as well as her favorite son-in-law. Our daughter, Rayanne
Adams, provided background music, playing piano songs of Bill and Gloria
Gathier, arranged by the late Anthony Berger, as well as playing Happy Birthday.
By the time a number of residents of the nursing home were wheeled in, the
activity room was full of folks. A decision was quickly made to half the
slices of the cake prepared to feed thirty-five, and one scoop of ice cream
to go with the cake became the norm. Cheese straws and punch were also served.
There was an abundance of punch, probably because handling a cup of punch
plus the cheese straws, cake, and ice cream was a challenge for most.
When the party was over, Lillie Belle couldn’t tell anyone how old she
was; her short-term memory is gone.
But, if asked, "Have you had a good birthday," she’d have smiled and
responded, "I guess so."
We had a good time, too!
Wedding Day 2nd
In A Series
Felicia's wedding day had not gotten off to a good start, at least from my
perspective. Her car's dead battery wrecked my timetable for the morning,
before my breakfast had settled. Then requests by Jason and Brett that promised
to delay our return to Pontotoc following a brunch in Tupelo added more
frustration. Jason wanted to buy some guitar strings and Brett needed to
get his tuxedo from Reed's in downtown Tupelo.
The brunch at the home of Markel and Libby Whittington and co-hosted by Jim
and Sherry McCarty was a welcomed respite. Somehow, my bunch arrived on time,
and we were soon being introduced to those we'd not previously met. Both
the Whittingtons and the McCartys have sons who are friends of Cullen Pollard,
the groom, and were to serve as groomsmen in the wedding.
Ours was a manly brunch, no quiches or casseroles. We had chicken 'n biscuits
with a smidgen of gravy, sausage balls, cheese grits, and blueberry cake
donuts. I chose coffee for my beverage, but other choices included milk,
juice, carbonated drinks, or something among a selection of spirits. Most
of us ate in the sunroom area or on the deck, where we talked of sports and
steered clear of subjects dear to the fairer sex. I took time to photograph
several rooms, thinking the women in my family would be interested in the
furnishings of "the rich and famous." The house was well furnished and one
that seemed to emphasize comfort rather than ostentatiousness.
Noting our morning slipping away, I suggested to Jason and Brett that we
needed to be leaving. After thanking our gracious hosts we departed. Jason
got his guitar strings in East Tupelo, and Brett picked up his tux at the
department store.
Several family members used our house in which to dress for the wedding pictures,
and I believe we made it to the church sanctuary at our appointed time. My
tux fit okay, and during the events of the afternoon several friends commented
that I looked nice, though I suspected they were merely being kind. The
pre-wedding, picture-taking sessions passed more quickly than I had imagined
and were completed shortly after three o'clock.
As important as a marriage ceremony is in order to provide legitimacy to
the union of two people who have chosen to live their lives together, a marriage
license is equally important. And, Mississippi law does not recognize an
unsigned marriage license as a valid document. During the picture-taking,
Felicia realized she had left the marriage license at home, and quickly
dispatched my son-in-law, Anson Adams, to get it.
Once guests started to arrive, time seemed to fly. Standing near the bride's
room, I greeted most of the folks who passed me in the corridor on their
way to the sanctuary. As the downstairs began to fill up, many guests made
their way to the balcony. No one took a count, but Sarah believes there may
have been upwards of four hundred, counting the wedding party.
The wedding photographer told me to pay no attention to him when Felicia
and I started down the aisle.
"Whatever you do, don't stop until you get to the front," Trent admonished.
"Sometimes when people see me about to take a picture, they stop and wait.
Don't do that."
My age is affecting me in ways I never expected. As often as I've stood before
large groups in my younger days, it seems I get more nervous about such things
as I get older. About the time the ushers began to seat grandmothers and
mothers of the bride and groom, the palms of my hands began to perspire.
Normally, that doesn't happen unless I'm dealing with heights.
Once all the attendants were in place, the rear doors of the sanctuary were
closed in preparation for the arrival of the bride. Our clue to be ready
to process proudly down the aisle was the organist and pianist playing "Holy,
Holy, Holy." As the rear doors to the north center section of the sanctuary
were opened and guests rose to their feet, Felicia and I began our walk.
Trent got two pictures of us within our first few steps, though I barely
remember him being there.
There's a sound generated by hundreds of people moving, almost in unison,
from a seated to a standing position that's hard to describe. It includes
the rustling of cloth rubbing against cloth, of air being sucked into open
mouths and nostrils, of feet moving as people turn to face the bride, and
of soft whispers of those unable to contain their joy. When the doors opened,
it felt as if that sound were being pulled into corridor where we stood.
We were bathed in that unique and wonderful sound, while it resonated with
the music from the same sanctuary. No doubt, it was the sound of love.
Once at the front, Felicia and I aligned ourselves in front of the preacher,
with Felicia on my left and Cullen to my right. They were not words of my
choosing, but they were the words that Felicia and her mother felt the most
appropriate response to the question, "Who gives this woman in marriage?"
Felicia, quite early, had ruled out my suggestion, "That'd be me," and for
reasons she never shared didn't want me to respond with "Her parents and
I."
I had no problem with "Her mother and I," but Barbara said there would be
people there who didn't know I was the bride's uncle and some of them might
assume I was the father, and she'd have none of that.
Thus, to keep everyone, for whom such things matter, happy, I heard myself
answering, "Her family and I," which I maintain is redundant because I am
both "family" as well as "I."
After giving away the bride, I was allowed to sit beside my wife who had
been seated on the grandmother's row.
As of this writing, I've not seen the video of the wedding ceremony, but
I'm told it was absolutely beautiful and that the music was outstanding.
From the balcony of the sanctuary, the church choir sang one of my favorites,
"The Majesty and Glory of Your Name," and Lisa Ross later played the piano
and sang "Praise The King," arranged by David Prevost, former Minister of
Music, FBC, Pontotoc. I could not hear either selection very well from behind
closed doors. In fact, "The Lord's Prayer," sung by Justin Smith, near the
close of the wedding ceremony was the only special music I was able to enjoy
in the comfort of a church pew. I can vouch that the floral arrangements
were awesome and the flower girls, my two youngest granddaughters, were
beautiful. And yes, the bridesmaids were beautiful, and the groomsmen and
ushers were all handsome.
The officiant of the marriage ceremony, Dr. Ken Hester, managed to keep the
service reverential with his delicately balanced humor, but the best humor
was an unintentional flub involving the placement of the wedding ring on
the correct finger of both the bride and the groom. Cullen first extended
his right hand to receive the ring Felicia was to set in place, and there
was a bit of this-hand-or-that-hand for a moment until the left hand won
out.
Apparently, weddings are not that much different from a regular church service,
in that during times of prayer a lot of folks busy themselves "peeking about,
two-eyed."
How else can one explain comments such as, "During the Lord’s Prayer
solo, Cullen and Felicia formed a perfect heart as they bowed their heads
and held hands [facing each other]."
Additionally, as emotions of gladness produced tears of joy, some observed
that facial tissues were passed to members of the wedding party who needed
them. I missed all that went on during that time, but perhaps I’ll see
it on the video.
…to be continued.
Brush Hawg Great
For The Grill
Several years ago, my son, Jason, or someone else gave me a grill brush made
by Char-Broil. Other than noting the name "Brush Hawg" and its sturdy handle,
I paid little attention to the gift. However, as I began to use it, I grew
to appreciate it for its quality and durability.
Most inexpensive brushes lose bristles early in their life, but that's not
the case with the Brush Hawg. The bristles have, quite literally, stuck around.
While the bristles have lasted far longer than anticipated, weekly use of
the brush has left it with an accumulation of a greasy residue from the surface
of the grill, which has rendered the brush somewhat ineffective for its intended
purpose.
About two years ago, I mentioned to Jason that I had searched online for
a new grill brush, looking specifically for a Brush Hawg, but all that I
had found were replacement pads for the brush. Jason suggested I look on
eBay, but I never did.
Char-Broil designed the grill brush with a replaceable portion that snaps
out of the main section of the brush. But, at the time I discovered this
mechanism, I didn’t consider the brush would outlast the bristles,
especially with it being kept outside and subjected to the elements.
About a month ago, I decided
to renew my search for a new Brush Hawg or at least the replacement pad.
This time, I hit pay dirt, finding both the brush and the replacement part
online at Bass Pro Shops. A new brush costs $9.99, and the replacement part
is $3.99. Actually, the replacement part consists of two items, a stainless
steel bristle pad and a nylon scrubber pad. Normally, I’d have chosen
the new brush, but as I was buying a couple of other items from Bass Pro,
I frugally chose the replacement part.
In forty-odd years of grilling, I've worn out a lot of grill brushes, most
of them being discarded annually. The Char-Broil Brush Hawg is the absolute
best grill brush I've ever used. Look for the Brush Hawg at Lowe’s stores
or Bass Pro Shops.
Bodock Beau
Mama's Lead Foot
This column would not exist but for the thoughtfulness of others willing
to share the humor they’ve received with us. We can’t use all that
we get, but we’re grateful for all contributions.
My mom has a lead foot, so I was not surprised when a state trooper pulled
us over as we were driving through Georgia. Hoping to get off with a warning,
Mom tried to appear shocked when he walked up to the car.
"I have never been stopped like this before," she said to the officer.
"What do they usually do, ma'am," he asked, "shoot the tires out?"
------------------------
Many patients call the pathology group where I am office manager to discuss
their medical bills. One irate woman demanded that I describe every laboratory
test on her statement. Reluctantly, I complied.
Starting with the first test on her bill, I read, "No. 1, urinalysis."
She interrupted me at once. "I'm a what?
Shared by Carl Wayne Hardeman.
When Dan found out he was going to inherit a fortune when his sickly father
died, he decided he needed a woman to enjoy it with. So one evening
he went to a singles bar where he spotted the most beautiful woman he
had ever seen. Her natural beauty took his breath away.
"I may look like just an ordinary man," he said as he walked up to her, "but
in just a week or two, my father will die, and I'll inherit 20 million
dollars."
Impressed, the woman went home with him that evening and, three days later,
she became his stepmother.
Shared by Ken Gaillard.
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