COMO USTA ESTED??

FOOL HARDY

 

I am off to visit my niece Wilhelmina, daughter of my sister, Wilma. I haven't seen her since she was ten. Many times guilt troubled my mind but I chased away that niggling feeling because I just didn't want to face Wilma's strong, nasty, mean-to-me attitude one more time. Yesterday I was informed by phone that Wilma had died in her sleep and her burial would be at noon, Dec.12, just four days away.         .
It was to be at 'Heaven's Call' Mortuary 1027 Gettysburg Rd. An 
attorney, George Papadopolus, would like me to visit with him as soon as possible as I had inherited Wilma's cottage on the Severn River, plus some other items.

 

She had confiscated several treasures that my grandma had promised me. I can still visualize the glass doll that Grandma Mosely kept on her bureau top. She would let me play with it as long as she was with me but not touch it unless she was there to look out for both of us. There
should be the beautiful brass candelabra and her grandma's diary of the battle at Gettysburg. I remember it had a black leather cover that was scruffy. Grandma Martha cherished it and would read a few faded pages to me whenever I visited. What I don't want is that cottage on the Severn. That river is muddy and smells bad sometimes. If I am forced to accept it, I will immediately get an agent who may be able to get a decent price on it for me to share with him.

 

There is no real choice for me. I call the B & O RR for a reservation. They don't take reservations. A ticket on their new flyer is $90.00 each way. With no choice and much trepidation, I give them my Visa card info.

 

Dec. 10 th I wake to find a light snow has fallen during the night and only want to stay in bed longer, fix myself a good hot cup of Chinese ambrosia tea to enjoy with the tasty scones my neighbor bakes, but can't. My bag is packed and waiting for me at the front door. Driving on a slick highway worries me but out I go just as the grandfather clock in my foyer chimes 9. The suitcase is heavier than I thought or maybe I am weaker than I imagined. As I try to lift it into the car trunk, Geoffrey, the son of my scone making-friend, sees me and lifts the bag with one hand. 'Thank you, Geoffrey,' I say, look up to the gray sky and give our dear lord a thanks too fro sending Geoffrey to me when I was really in need of help.

 

Not once do I skid on the road and reach the Camden train station in plenty of time. It is a surprise to me that there are still a few porters to handle luggage. Mine, Jack by name, must be sixty years old at least. His white nappy hair brings the story of 'Gone With the Wind,' to mind the way blackies were portrayed. Jack lifts my suitcase onto the train, carries it to the nearest available window seat and wishes me a pleasant trip. I hand him two dollars and he looks at me as if I am a f'n freak. 'Here, Lady,' he says. 'You must need this more than I do.'

 

The train was as clean as trains get, I imagine. Already I was nervous. Whose going to lift my suitcase off the train? How am I going to roll it to the curb? Sometime luck runs by my side, sometimes it stomps on my toes. My train departure goes well. A tall, nice looking gentleman, surely an athlete, waits on the platform behind me and offers to take my bag off the train as porters are scarce as Indian head pennies.
Should I be lady-like and swoon? No, I simply give him my honest 'thank you, pull my large rolling carry on bag and follow the other passengers to the exit. 

 

Cabs are lined up for a long block. I start to go into the one closest to the exit and am astonished when the driver, eating a thick sandwich of some kind, tells me I have to get the first cab in line. He can surely see I'm upset to walk that long block while he eats his lunch. 'Lady, what year are you livin' in? More cabbies than passengers, nobody sneaks in the line.' I am indignant but don't argue.

 

My driver speaks very little English. I know adios, gracias and give him Wilhelmina's address. The ride takes thirty minutes. The meter reads  $25 and I only have $30 cash in my purse. He doesn't take Visa. I try to explain, show him my empty wallet. I can hear him grumble.

 

In spite of his distress he opens the cab door for me, gets my suitcase out of the trunk and takes me to Wilhelmina's door- waits for her to let me in, waves Adios and calls to me as he gets back in his cab, 'Gracias, Senora.'