Tag Archives: crazy

A True(ish) Story

Here’s another excerpt from my novel, Crazie Town.  It’s from a story that my dad told me.

Genny = me.

Max = my dad.

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“I thought after lunch I’d go visit Johnnie Ketchum on the third floor,” Max said through a mouthful of food.

“I’m sure he would appreciate that,” Genny said.  She picked up one of the limp greasy fries and examined it.

“You know, he has emphysema because he didn’t get to finish college,” Max said with a sideways glance at Genny.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“Didn’t I ever tell you about Johnnie’s parents?” Max asked.

“His parents?  I thought we were talking about his emphysema.”

Max wiped his mouth and moved his glass closer.  He emptied four packets of sugar into his tea and took a long drink.  He leaned back in his chair, inhaled deeply, then clasped his hands together and rested them on his large belly.

“Johnnie Ketchum’s dad was called Earl Jay.  He was a handsome, charming man.  Everyone said so.  We never knew where he was from though.  He just sort of appeared.  One day when he was in the Five and Dime, he met the two Ingle sisters, Bessie and Irene.  Now, Bessie, the older of the two, was plain and frail.  Irene, on the other hand was beautiful and vivacious.  They had the best farmland in the county and had money to burn – but Mr. Ingle hardly ever spent one penny if he didn’t have to.”

Genny worked at removing the skin from her fried chicken.

Max continued.  “Earl Jay started courting Irene, ‘Tootsie’ as he called her, and after a few months went to her father to ask to marry her.  Tootsie’s father said that Irene couldn’t marry anyone until her older sister, Bessie, had married.  That very night Earl Jay broke up with Irene.  But after two weeks, he came back and asked Bessie out.  Within a few months, Bessie and Earl Jay were married.  Nine months later, she died giving birth to Johnnie.  A few months after that Earl Jay married Tootsie, but she’d been around the block.  Do you know what I mean when I say that?” Max asked.

“Yes, Dad.  I know what it means,” Genny said.  She used her napkin to wipe the grease from her piece of chicken. “But you still haven’t told me what college has to do with Johnnie’s emphysema.”

“Jeez-O-Pete. You’d think by now you would’ve learned to stay in the boat to get where we’re going.”  Max added another packet of sugar to his tea.  “So Earl Jay, he marries Tootsie and she starts spending money like crazy.  Earl Jay doesn’t really care because he sure is having fun.  By this time, Johnnie is ready to go to college.  He was smart as a whip, that Johnnie, and had been accepted by Notre Dame.  He wanted to be an architect.  Only after his first year his dad didn’t have any money left.  Tootsie had spent it all.  Of course, even Earl Jay wasn’t stupid enough to sell all that great farmland.  The next year Tootsie died so Johnnie stayed home to take care of his dad.  After Earl Jay passed away, Johnnie sat in his rocking chair and smoked cigarettes all day long.”  Max leaned forward and bit into his fried chicken.

“And?” Genny asked.

“And now, my dear girl,” Max said dribbling grease on his shirt.  “He has emphysema because he didn’t get to go to college.”

Continuation of a Mid-Life Crisis

I woke up one day and none of the clothes in my closet were mine.  I’m not making this up.

Okay, maybe I am, but that’s the way it felt.  I tried on 90% of my closet, and nothing seemed to fit – neither my body or my personality.

Over the next several days I bought and returned dozens of items.  A geometric print maxi-dress seemed fine in the store.  Maybe a bit “young” for me, but I was sure I could still pull it off.  And then I got it home, where I realized that, NO, I couldn’t pull it off and back to the store it went.

I’ve done this time and time again.  I’m in some sort of Limbo (the Catholic kind, not the game) where I’m too old for average women clothes and too young for old women clothes.

Last week, I hit bottom.  I gathered all my strength and walked into what I’ve always considered The Old Woman Clothing Store.  As I flipped through the racks of shapeless dresses and baggy capris, I had a running conversation with myself.

“I’m too young to wear these clothes!”

“No you’re not.  Look around at the other women here.  They’re not much older than you.”

“I don’t belong here”

“You do belong here.”

“I DON’T!”
“You Do!”
“Fine! I’ll try something on!!!”

I picked several items off the racks and trudged to the dressing room.  Just as I was stepping into my first outfit, hoping to god I wouldn’t look in the mirror and see my grandmother, I overheard this conversation in the store, right outside my dressing room door.

Salesclerk:  “Here we go.  I’ve put you in the largest dressing room  – where they’ll be plenty of room for your walker.”

Customer:  “Why, thank you dear.”

I ran out of that store so quickly I almost broke a hip.
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Bonus Blog Post

While I was working on the blog post above, this email conversation occurred with one of my brothers. Caution – I’m leaving in the strong language.  I know, can you believe it?

Mike:  So FYI, I am officially a middle aged woman trapped in a man’s body.  In addition to frozen shoulder, it appears I now have varicose veins.  I found two cysts in my calf this weekend and went to get them checked.  The doctor is 99% sure that’s what it is.  I have to get a sonogram to confirm. Did mom have that?  Fuck!  Getting old sucks!

Teresa:  Well, yes she did, as do I.  But I didn’t think it was worth a dr. appt.  What will they do about them?  Are they dangerous or something?  FUCK YES, I hate getting old.

Mike:  He did not seemed concerned at all and what I can find online seems to say the same thing.  I think there are some cosmetic procedures to make them look better, but I will probably pass because looking good in heels is down on my list of worries.

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Enjoy your Fourth of July.  Here are the Crazie Town safety rules from last year, just in case you need them.