Long Distance Phone Calls From My Dad

Does anyone remember the days when long distance calls could be as expensive as a tank of gas, a trip to the grocery store,  or a visit from the plumber?  How about those calls about  medical emergencies and brief check ins to alert loved ones that you arrived safely?     My dad travelled for a living as a book salesman.   When he was out of town he called us every night but he only talked for a minute or two.   He checked in with us to make sure everything was okay.  There was no email, texting, facebook, or blah blah blah, oversharing, social media....  

All I remember was that it cost a lot of money to talk on the phone, long distance...  Our family was very frugal and careful about long distance calls.  That expense was reserved for emergencies and quick nightly check in calls.



There Might be an Expensive or Explosive visit from the plumber!   Pay up!

Do you remember those Person to Person calls and the code we all had?  If a loved one was traveling, they would call us Person to Person when they arrived at their destination.  It was a great way to cheat the rip-off lady, Ma Bell.   When you called Person to Person, the recipient could receive the call and tell the operator that the Person was not there, not available or deceased.  It was a great signal that the traveling family member had arrived safely, without the rip-off charge!!!   Person to Person call to Judy Garland!  

Remember Earnestine?  She could connect you person-to-person, station to station or God Forbid if you had to call Collect.   What the Hell did you do?  Would Your Family Member Accept a Collect Call From You?  Yikes....

Wasn't she funny?  I'd love to have dinner with Lily Tomlin someday!


Well I have to admit it's really nice these days that we can connect in a cheap way.  There's Email,  Facebook, Texting, Voicemail. and actually TALKING on the cheap Cell Phone.    The Problem is that nobody talks anymore.  Texting seems to have super ceded actual voice contact.   Whatever...   It makes me sad and depressed.


 I'm an orphan and I'd really like to talk to somebody, especially since I can't talk to my mom....

She was difficult, but she was my MOM!

Talk to your mom....

Send money...

Just Kidding.....

Love, Teresa Agnes

William Johnson Breuer Grave Marker Conundrum

What does one do with the standard issue Veteran's Administration bronze grave marker when her father's cremains are disinterred from the local cemetery and bound for Arlington National Cemetery?

I got the call on Monday of this week, June 23.  The nice lady at Resurrection Cemetery confirmed that my daddy, William Johnson Breuer, who died on March 12, 2006, had been officially delivered to the local funeral home awaiting the arrival of my mother's cremains, so they can make the journey together, along with Little Orphan Agnes, their official escort, to Arlington.   The timing of this journey is TBD.  I await the call from Arlington.

My Parents will receive a combined military burial ceremony with full honors.  My father was a Second Lieutenant Junior Grade, second in command on a Landing Craft Tank, 11th Wave, Omaha Beach, D-Day, June 6, 1944.  My mother served in the United States Navy Nurse Corps.  She was stationed at St. Alban's Hospital in Long Island, New York.  They met at Delmonico's Restaurant in Manhattan.  It had been repurposed into a glamorous Naval Officer's Club for the duration of the war.  Elizabeth Arden set up shop in the Ladies Room with a salon stocked with free cosmetics and products for the Navy Nurses.  It must have been a fabulous place for our service men and women to escape the horrors of the war and have some fun.   They had live music, fine dining and free libations.

Back to the original question.  What do you do with your father's grave marker?  They can't use it at Arlington.   As you might imagine, it's pretty crowded there these days...

The cemetery suggested that I have them dispose of his marker.  Well, that didn't set well at all with me!   It's engraved with his name, the dates of his life and his service as a soldier, husband, and father.

I'm going to the cemetery to retrieve it tomorrow.  It's a strange trip to make, but I guess we all have some strange and difficult trips to take from time to time in this life..

Different, mostly unsuitable,  ideas popped up. Do I melt it down and donate the proceeds to veterans in need of medical care?  Do I place it in a beautifully framed shadowbox and hang it somewhere in my house?  Do I display it on an easel somewhere in my house?

My daddy grew up on the farm in St. James, Missouri.  He had a great appreciation for the outdoors. He loved taking care of our beautiful yard surrounding the house where I grew up.   We always had colorful trees and bushes; dogwoods, lilacs, forsythia and home grown tomatoes in the backyard.

Charlie and I have a big yard and I've decided to create a garden for my dad with a large Crepe Myrtle Tree as the centerpiece surrounded by flowers that will bloom every spring to coincide with his journey to Heaven.  We'll place his beautiful bronze marker in a prominent position in his garden.

If you have a better idea, you'd better weigh in soon...  I'm going to the nursery before I pick up the grave marker tomorrow!  I wish I could think of something funny to say.  The best I can come up with is to quote my mother during her last days,  Up your nose with a rubber hose.  It's later than you think!  You can all go straight to Hell!  When I get there, we'll start the party!  I'm sure this embarrassed my father terribly... Aren't they a beautiful couple?  I bet he took her to Delmonico's when she got to Heaven.

Carpe Diem!

Middle Aged Orphan Notices Disturbing Onset of "Old Lady" Monikers and Salutations

Why is it that all of the sudden since my mom died I keep noticing clerks and waiters calling me Ma'am?   Really?  Do I look that old?  Do I really look like a "Ma'am"?

I know I'm probably being overly sensitive but what ever happened to "Miss",  "Missy", "Hun", "Young Lady"? 



 Hell, I'd prefer "Hey Lady" or "Hey You".



I just don't get it.  I don't even use a walker, cane or wheelchair.  All of my mother's DME, Durable Medical Equipment, has been removed from my vehicle and is stored in the garage.

I can still feed myself, dress, toilet, climb stairs, and shower independently.  What's with the Ma'am stuff?  I much prefer to be called Little Orphan Agnes, Little Nut Brown, Teresa Agnes, Ag, or Fat Ass.  Just anything but Ma'am.

Please don't tell me you see a resemblance to a Ma'am...  I still color my hair and wear contact lenses!  

Enough with the Ma'am stuff.  Please stop already!

Pull Up Your Pants....

New story about my mom, Margaret.. This is a really good one if you have a very basic knowledge of anatomy and a raucous sense of humor. I've kept this one off of the Internet radar until now... It's been tucked away in my memory vault for about 15 years. 

I often stopped by my parent's house in the Greens, a lovely neighborhood in NW OKC and would take them to lunch at very extravagant places like SUBWAY... This was their favorite place aside from Luby's and Queen Anne Cafeterias...

Okay finally, here's the story..... One afternoon at Subway, we ordered and sat at a lavish table festooned with cheap napkins and plastic flatware. My mother was facing the door and couldn't help but notice an interesting couple entering this fine establishment. Her first comment upon seeing them was, I've just lost my appetite. 

The girl component of the couple was dressed in very short shorts, the low rider style complemented by a midriff top. Well, to the defense of the girl, it was a rather warm summer day in OKC. This poor girl really should not have been wearing this particular ensemble... Let's just say her Rubinesque body type was not especially suitable for such revealing apparel. 

As they passed our table, my mother stopped her and said,  My dear you need to pull up your pants.  Your rectum is showing. Direct quote... I swear... Who could or would make this up? I tried to hide under the table as did my father... I was just praying that her companion didn't have a gun... This was way before Mary Fallin helped enact the Open Carry law...

The young woman responded to my dear mother by thanking her and pulling her short shorts up as best she could to cover the exposed rectum... Well not really.... It was only plumber's butt but my mother had a flare for the dramatic and was a nurse with an extensive medical vocabulary. 

I was just grateful to God that the whole scene did not erupt into gun violence

This is just more Margaret Post Death Oversharing and Outbursts.. Please forgive me... Thank you for indulging my irreverent expressions and memories of my mother... Boring except for the rectum part.... 

Economy Wavers in the Wake of Margaret

I've been far too busy mired in my own personal grief to truly consider the negative impact Margaret's death will have on many industries and businesses.  It's finally starting to sink in that not only have I been laid off but many others will experience a serious RIF reduction in force due to her departure.  Don't expect to collect unemployment either.

Just the Dairy Industry alone will face dire repercussions with a precipitous decline in demand for ice cream.

What will become of Mint Chocolate Chip?  Will it survive without her?  Only time will tell.

And then there's the pork industry to consider.  A serious decline in the demand for bacon and pork products, that she NEVER ate, is bound to affect pork belly futures.  Yikes!

How will the hog farms of Oklahoma survive a disaster of such magnitude?             

On a much broader scale, what will happen to all those migrant workers in central California who relied upon her copious consumption of steamed vegetables?    Will they have to return to Mexico penniless?  

How will all this affect the 2016 elections and just what are the politicians going to do about it?  Those Sons of B's as my mother so fondly referred to them.

Furthermore, just how big of a hit will our GNP take over this devastating loss?  

And finally, possibly the biggest loser of all, the Oklahoma Restaurant Association.  Two come immediately to mind, The Hefner Grill and Bellini's at Waterford.   My mother's weekly presence in these two establishments no doubt paid the light bill and stimulated business simply by her elegant presence and sparkling conversation.  The staff at both establishments adored her and doted on her incessantly.

Make no mistake.  Mighty Margaret who Mustered to Heaven on Memorial Day will be sorely missed by many besides her laid off daughter who must go in search of new and meaningful pursuits.

The Early Days of Orphanhood

After many years, weeks, and months in the waiting room, my dear mother, Margaret, finally got her boarding pass and security clearance to Heaven.  The Angels came for her on Memorial Day, Monday, May 26, a perfect exit for the exquisite Navy Nurse who served her country so bravely in WWII.  We will forever celebrate her final journey on Memorial Day when all flags fly at half mast.
                  And just what about this do you think she did not plan?  

Reverse the tape seven weeks....

Margaret fell ill AGAIN as Forest Gump would say, on Monday, April 7.   This most difficult phase of her waiting room journey lasted for seven weeks.   All the experts told us her death was eminent from the get go.  Well guess what?  She proved them all wrong...  SURPRISE! 

Everybody thought she was waiting for Good Friday so she could die on the Cross with Jesus. Nope... Well maybe she was waiting for Easter Sunday to rise with him.  Not so much...  She wouldn't want to upstage Jesus.   So, those of you who knew her well, feared she was going to play a practical joke on me and go on Mother's Day.  Well she didn't do that either.  I suppose because by this time, she really liked my hair.  (Refer to the Power of Hair post on my blog).

So she held on by the skin of her intact teeth until Memorial Day.  Glory be to God.  Margaret went first class to Heaven with the Angels...

On to Ophan Matters...

Here are a couple thoughts about my transition to orphanhood...   I'm really a newbie at this.  Please don't think I'm telling you how it will be for you or what lies ahead in your future..

I've been experiencing MGA's - Mini, Grief, Attacks.  They come without warning, out of nowhere... You might be in the car, in a restaurant, listening to music, on the toilet or who knows where...  You just start crying.. pathetically so...  Maybe this is not so different than the fear of WMD's that invoked Congress to start a war in Iraq...    Only difference is that the MGA's really exist...  Whoops....

One more thing, for now.....

I've made many calls today to cancel credit cards, place claims for life insurance, cable bills, bank accounts, blah, blah, blah... Just be ready to be placed on hold....  Yeah...  "Your call is important to us, please wait"...  Really? Finally I get a human being to cancel my mother's Master Card.  In spite of his thick foreign accent, we managed to navigate the cancellation.  I was patient and resisted the temptation to blow a gasket until he asked me what state is Oklahoma City in.............

 Good God Almighty....  I let him have it and asked where he was.  I was certain that he was in India...  Well no... He said he was in based in Asia..  Really?  Did Indians start charging too much to staff call centers so they had to move them to Viet Nam?   Was I talking to Hanoi Hank?

Not to offend...  I really like Indian food and Pho...  Just saying...  




 

Just Breathe

How can something as simple and seamless as breathing become such a life threatening struggle?  What we take for granted every second of every day has become a nightmare for my mother.   How does a body and a pair of lungs become so weak and deteriorated that even continuous supplemental oxygen, powerful antibiotics and the almighty steroid dose pack cannot revive and restore her ability to take a deep breath?  

This is day 14 of her struggle to breathe during her battle with pneumonia at age 91.   She's fought pneumonia battles in the past and has won the fight.   She has defied the odds numerous times.

 This time has been very different.  For the first time, she has experienced confusion and disorientation with the onset of this evil doer bug.  This time we've refused the hospital.  What she needs cannot be found at the hospital.  I will not subject my mother to the frighteningly unfamiliar people and surroundings there.  They don't know her.  They don't have the time or resources to care about her.  There's just not enough help there.  She's just another name on a checklist...   Besides, why would I place her in an environment teeming with superbugs like MRSA and Staph?  No more...

She is at the Heaven House.  She is comfortable and surrounded by caregivers she knows and loves. She has someone with her in her room at all times.   She has continuous oxygen, and every comfort measure available.  She will NEVER be kicked out or tossed to the curb because she is dying!

She has received the Sacrament of the Sick from Fr. Rick Stansberry and the Apostolic Pardon from Abbot Lawrence Stasyszen.  Sr. Rose Power and the Sisters of Mercy have visited her and she continues to be in their prayers.  She has every ticket for her First Class Journey to Heaven.  It's as though she's stuck on the jet bridge waiting to board the plane.   Maybe there are a bunch of really important platinum, business class flyers ahead of her...  Maybe there are a bunch of people ahead of her trying to gate check carry on bags that are too big.   Really?  You can't take it with you!    She's got no extra baggage.... I don't understand why they don't just let her board the plane, NOW!

I pray my mother dies a happy death and can go easy in her sleep...   Her journey is in God's time.  This photo was taken in 1949.  She could breathe easy back then.   Wasn't she a beauty?