Overdosed on the Waltons

  Memorial Day was long so I fed my addiction.  Not what you think.  I never left the house.  Non stop Waltons were on the Hallmark Channel.  My vicarious family through the seventies,.  No brainer to figure out why this only child would love a familyof eight siblings plus grandma and grandpa and parents who loved each other.  

  I did do a load of wash on occasion to stretch my legs and feed my hungry cats, checked the email, paid some bills.  Since I gave up guilt for lent, I didn't have a twinge indulging my Walton marathon.

The day before David and Barbara barbecued in my back yard, hauling in all the burgers and fixings.  A wonderful  surprise to warm the cockles of my heart, whatever the heck cockles are. My other kids were up north and  the great grandkids were frolicing up in San Luis Obispo with their parents.

Holidays are fraught with memories, sweet and bittersweet.    Over the years, Des and I had picnics down at the Marina, our big brown van filled with food and family around to share the time.  That Van carried us across the country to his New York family nearly every couple of years.  Picnics back there took pl;ace by Zirkles' pond in Brocton.  In fact, Joyce told me that is exactly what they did yesterday.

Come to think of it, I married into a big family, not unlike the Waltons.  Des was the youngest of seven so I was enfolded into their warmth. His brotheer Dick, 13 years old, was a psuedo father to him Nieces still call me Aunt Ann.  They scattered to nearby small towns, - Ripley, Westfield, Brocton, Jamestown. and across the state line to Erie,Pensylvania.

Last Fall we held a graveside service for Des in Ripley, had a memorial celebration at niece Trudi's diner (Meeders) and and wound up at a picnic at one of the nephew's barn..

I am ending this on a Walton family goodnight. Good night everbody, especially Des.
So Says Sassy

Incognito

When a dermatologist decides to use liquid nitroglycerin on a portion of your face, it stings.  Who knew it stung so much that you stifled a loud scream.  Obviously,I, your local coward, was unprepared for pain.  Remember me?  I was the one who never got her ears pierced until age fifty.

Beyond the pain, the area has turned blushing red.  Soon,  it will blister and my eye will bulge.  Not a pretty sight.  Next, dead skin will flake away. Not to worry soothes said dermatologist.  I will look normal in seven to ten days.  See you on church.  Maybe.

I checkedwith my live-in grandson, Andy and he predicted that things were going to get real ugly soon. His slogan is "keep it real."   I should tell him that reality sucks .  Grandmas shouldn't talk like that, but sassy ones do..

So here is my plea.  Where does one get those hideous oversized visors that celebrities and other nefarious characters hide behind to avoid recognition? It is either that,or I will hide in plain sight at my humble abode until the mirror says it's okay to go out and about.  By the way, the pierced ears have closed  up again.  Where can you buy those clip on earrings?  Must be an oldies store around.

One positive note:  I'll never get a facelift, tumy tuck or any thing painful.  Reminds me of an old saying of husband Des when we discussed  diets.  "Costs just as much to bury a fat guy as a skinny one."  That goes for ugly as well.

So Says Sassy

Mothers Revisited

My mother, Grace widowed for 15 years,died at the age of 79.  She must have been lonely, living 60 miles away from me, her only child.  She, of the flapper era, did Charleston steps in her small kitchen, neatness personified and never was able to tame my father's gambling addiction.  We wondered if he would leave her penniless but her house was paid off and she said she said she was at peace.

When I became a widow over a year ago, only then did I realize how truly lonely she must have been.  Good, now I have something else to feel guilty about.  I do miss her Saturday morning phone calls  especially after my father was gone.  She did love to relate his defects.  She recorded events in her life on a cassette and left them along with tapes of Elvis.  She loved Elvis.

My grandmother, Josephine, became a widow in 1918 at the age of 28, left with four children and the job of burying her husband and infant son on the same week.  Tough and strong, she came through Ellis Island at 15 with an uncle.  I never knew why she left  her family for this daring adventure.

I last saw her in a nursing home where she sang, My Bonny Lies Over The Ocean  At 92, she was grateful that her, "Eyes lasted as long as"  she did.  She loved soap operas and let me know who was the bad lady.

When I think about these feisty women when Mother's Day approaches.  How I would love to have one more visit with them, now that am 82 and relate to their traumas, their grit and especially their sassyness. Seems familiar.  Would that I have their spunk and survivor skills.

By the way I enjoy night time soaps and play my Frank Sinatra CD's when I am lonely.

So saya Sassy