85. There Was an Old Lady
There was an old lady whose labs were high, they didn’t know why, but her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who had more tests, it was best to have more tests. She had the tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who had a scan, with Xanax in hand, she had a scan. She had the scan because she had more tests. She had the tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who saw a shill, who peddled a pill, to those who were ill. She saw the shill because she had the scan. She had the scan because she had more tests. She had the tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who saw a doc, who didn’t much talk, but said, “Don’t walk”. She saw the doc because she saw a shill. She saw the shill because she had the scan. She had the scan because she had more tests. She had more tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who heard the news, she told a few, and it made her blue. She heard the news because she saw the doc. She saw the doc because she saw a shill. She saw the shill because she had the scan. She had the scan because she had more tests. She had more tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who had to sit, that was it, unless she needed to shit. She had to sit because she heard the news. She heard the news because she saw the doc. She saw the doc because she saw a shill. She saw the shill because she had the scan. She had the scan because she had more tests. She had more tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who couldn’t stand, she wasn’t a fan, it sure wasn’t grand. She couldn’t stand because she had to sit. She had to sit because she heard the news. She heard the news because she saw the doc. She saw the doc because she saw a shill. She saw the shill because she had the scan. She had the scan because she had more tests. She had more tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who had some pain, again and again, she had her pain. She had her pain because she couldn’t stand. She couldn’t stand because she had to sit. She had to sit because she heard the news. She heard the news because she saw the doc. She saw the doc because she saw a shill. She saw the shill because she had the scan. She had the scan because she had more tests. She had more tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who wanted to yell, “Go to hell!”, or sit your spell. She wanted to yell because she had some pain. She had her pain because she couldn’t stand. She couldn’t stand because she had to sit. She had to sit because she heard the news. She heard the news because she saw the doc. She saw the doc because she saw a shill. She saw the shill because she had the scan. She had the scan because she had more tests. She had more tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who lost her mind, upon her behind, because of the grind. She lost her mind because she wanted to yell. She wanted to yell because she had some pain. She had her pain because she couldn’t stand. She couldn’t stand because she had to sit. She had to sit because she heard the news. She heard the news because she saw the doc. She saw the doc because she saw a shill. She saw the shill because she had the scan. She had the scan because she had more tests. She had more tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, she might die.
There was an old lady who just wouldn’t quit, she’d sit and sit, never complain a bit. She wouldn’t quit but she lost her mind. She lost her mind because she wanted to yell. She wanted to yell because she had some pain. She had her pain because she couldn’t stand. She couldn’t stand because she had to sit. She had to sit because she heard the news. She heard the news because she saw the doc. She saw the doc because she saw a shill. She saw the shill because she had the scan. She had the scan because she had more tests. She had more tests because her labs were high, they didn’t know why her labs were high, one day she’ll die.
Or, maybe she’ll never die.
I had a really busy weekend. I had a FULL sleepover with Hadley Saturday night — her request. The way things have been working since I slowed down a bit: she brings her things for whatever themed sleepover we’d planned; we do our crafts, or baking, or whatever; then she camps out on the loveseat until 9 PM. That’s when she hops, skips and jumps home, a mere fifty or so feet doorstep to doorstep.
She would have spent Saturday night at her dad’s, but he had overtime at work, so she found herself with a free evening and I was the beneficiary. At breakfast that morning she suggested, “MammyGrams I think you and I should try an overnight sleepover, like the ones we used to have. If you need me to leave, that’s okay, but we should give it a try.”
So we did. And she stayed all night.
Happy, happy, joy, joy!
On Sunday, I had a very early back and forth FB DMing with Janice Harvey for her piece in Worcester Magazine. I appreciated her interest in this chapter of my life and think the piece was wonderful. Nearly as wonderful as the time I spent reconnecting with someone from Columbus Park. Janice and I didn’t pal around much way back when. She was besties with Donna Hackett throughout grade and high school, and during the college years, she was very good friends with Mr. Wonderful. I, like everyone else in Worcester, have followed her writing career. As you can imagine, it was easy to consent to her request.
A few people from the old neighborhood have been in touch in recent weeks. It has been such fun getting to know them again, and forming pictures of their lives by piecing together snapshots on FB pages and finding interesting ways to ask, ‘So what’ve you been doing the past 40 years’ through FB messenger?
I don’t know much about the Donna and Paula Hackett years, but I do know this: we recently did a little catching up and found we shared a boundless love, or perhaps an addiction, to Wells. Imagine my thrill when I received a package from the sisters this weekend. Inside was a treasure: a small, maybe 5”x5” off-white painted frame with three birds standing on a skinny branch. The adorable trio was fashioned out of various bits of multi-colored sea glass, their skinny wire legs keeping them upright. On the back of the frame there was the date, 2016.
Inside the box was a Birthday Card and an immediate line or two written inside asking that I ignore that celebratory sentiment and consider it a Thinking of You card. First, I have to say I found that adorable and think it speaks to a free-spirited gal, who was on a mission, had a card available, and made it work. The note inside read, in part:
Wells is a favorite place for us too. The sea glass picture is from gifts made a few years ago. We hope they remind you of three sweet girls in your life. From your Columbus Park friends, Paula and Donna Hackett
The birds definitely remind me of Hannah, Jessica, and Hadley.
And they will always remind me of Paula and Donna Hackett.
That gift arrived on the same day Don and Denise sent a framed shadowbox creation by an artisan they found on Etsy. The scene inside was a hand painted seascape upon which were clouds formed out of seashells, sailboats made from fragments of wood, their full sails made from pointed-triangular shell pieces. In the foreground was a sandy beach with tiny rocks and shells scattered about, and white-capped waves crashing over three bigger stones. The focal piece of the picture was a sea glass man and woman wrapped in one another’s arms, dancing on the beach — Wells Beach. I know that with certainty because that is what was carved into an upright driftwood sign posted in a windswept dune.
Both sea glass treasures are within sight on a chest of drawers in my living room.
Both sea glass treasures bring me joy!
A random thought — not really.
Thomas Wolfe, wrote a book, You Can’t Go Home Again. It was published posthumously in 1940 when his editor found several unpublished manuscripts in Mr. Wolfe’s desk drawer. None of us will ever know if the author planned to submit this particular piece for publication, one would assume not since the work was tucked away. I know the temptation to put manuscripts in drawers or basements rarely to see the light of day after an author slaved over each word, sentence, paragraph, and chapter — after they breathed life into characters who became friends. The reason I know is because Nancy Pendleton is currently cleaning up work I abandoned long ago, work that deserved to see the light of day again.
So this is my challenge to those who write, who have put pen to paper and walked a mile or more in a character’s shoes, and who created a world in which that character could live and love; get your writing out of the drawer and let the world see how wonderful it is — let yourself finish what you started.