I don't know whose idea it was to get tickets to see Joan Rivers at The Fabulous Fox in St. Louis. I'm sure it wasn't me. Even though I've always been a fan of comedy, I'm not exactly one to take the reins and plan a social outing. I'm guessing it was my second best old ex-teaching buddy Karen who did the planning, seconded by my third best old ex-teaching buddy Jim, who was kind of theatery and appreciated a good show, having run the lighting at some point in his life for a performance somewhere of The Sound of Music. None of which particularly helped him in his career as a 5th grade teacher.
Anyhoo...I'm pretty sure this was 1985. Karen was from South St. Louis, and volunteered her parents' home for our overnight stay. So we packed up and hit I-44 and headed north. I think we took Jim's sedan, since I drove a Nissan Sentra, and Karen had a Chevy Chevette. Our fourth friend, Jerri, had a sedan I don't remember, other than once it had a flat tire, and the biology teacher walked over to her rental house to change it on his plan time.
All this is neither here nor there, just a slow-as-January-molasses lead-in to today's tale, which is actually about Hick.
But back in 1985, we were gathered at Karen's home, getting ready to go out on the town to see Joan Rivers. Jerri, our ethereal elementary art teacher, was taking the longest, she being fond of actually putting on makeup and doing more than drag a comb through her hair. Jim and I sat in the family room, chatting with Karen's Mother. She was interested in our hometowns, Jim and I being from within ten miles of each other. Karen's Mother recognized our towns, as she had recently been in one nearby for a funeral. Being a proper urban lady, Karen's Mother had found our backwoods funeral home customs scandalous.
In the outspoken way only those familiar with South St. Louis folks will understand (no offense meant), Karen's Mother drew herself up to her full five feet zero inches, and announced, "And the corpse's husband was wearing a windbreaker and tennis shoes!"
Well. Holding in my laughter at that moment was one of the hardest things I did during my Cuba years. I knew Jim was struggling too, as he wouldn't meet my eyes, and was looking down at his very own Walmart brand tennis shoes. This quote became one of our favorites when we needed to break an awkward silence or lighten the mood.
Anyhoo...I bring it up, because Hick and I went to the funeral home Wednesday night. Not a laughing matter, of course. One of our oldest neighbors passed away. Not oldest in age, but oldest in the amount of time they've lived out here along with us. It was a shock to hear, and a reminder that cancer of the pancreas will not be denied. Also a jolt of reality, when somebody younger than us dies.
No, I did not laugh at the funeral home. Our neighbor was dressed appropriately to greet people paying respects to his wife. But I was quite disappointed in Hick when I turned around and realized what he was wearing.
A bright green John Deere hooded sweatshirt, and dilapidated workboots.
I'm pretty sure our neighbor understood.
Both Mrs. C's parents passed from P C...horrible disease.
ReplyDeleteThere's more than one Cuba? Now I know why those cigars were so cheap...and crappy.
Yes, we were shocked to hear the news. It was less than a month from our neighbor's diagnosis.
DeleteWhen VAL is enlightening people on geographical knowledge, it might be time to worry.
A precious story. I still wonder about the blue windbreaker as I read this.
ReplyDeleteAnd the John Deere gear. He would fit right in where I grew up. Almost every farm piece of farm equipment was green.
Hick has had a couple John Deere tractors, but now he also has a blue New Holland. Because you can't have enough tractors, I guess. Or hoodies or windbreakers.
DeleteComing from a small town in the bowels of the state of Georgia, this all seems unremarkable. I have to review the apparel of HeWho before we go to such events. He tends to want to embrace his south Georgia heritage.
ReplyDeleteYes, that will be a lesson to me. Although the time I tried to get Hick to change his shirt for Genius's graduation pictures, I had no success.
DeleteBut at least he wasn't wearing tennis shoes and how did you not notice what he was wearing on the drive to the funeral home?
ReplyDeleteWhen I was putting on my jacket to leave, I glanced at Hick in his La-Z-Boy, and he was wearing a long-sleeved dark blue t-shirt. I said, "Are you wearing THAT to the funeral home?" and he said he was. I figured at least it was plain, and dark. No logo or writing.
DeleteI had no idea he was going to wear the sweatshirt, especially INSIDE the funeral home. I didn't look at him on the walk in, my mind being preoccupied.
The corpse's husband...made me LOL. I can see why that phrase would still trip your trigger.
ReplyDeleteMy husband wears the same shirt until I remove it from the door handle and toss it in the hamper. I, not he, because he thinks he didn't get it dirty.
Those best ol' ex-teaching buddies gave me several phrases that still make me snort when I think about them.
DeleteAt least you have a good system for getting Bill to wear another shirt!
With Hick, it's the patterns or the style that are not always appropriate to the situation, and he sees nothing wrong with his choices, and is resistant to changing them.
Did hick stand out or were other mourners dressed like him?
ReplyDeleteHick was the only one in a bright green sweatshirt! Most people were kind of business casual. I'm guessing they stopped by after work, since we were there around 5:45. I didn't see anyone in a windbreaker. Or tennis shoes. Backroads isn't as deep in the hills as that town where the corpse's husband was wearing those items.
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