Oh, please. I can’t take one more bit of bad news. It’s overwhelming. I can’t read even half of the newspaper. So, here’s a good story for you.
Decades ago, my mom babysat to help out a young neighbor in our Anthony Park Townhouses in Cramer Hill near St. Anthony of Padua Church. We still live there. That young neighbor, Georgia, moved out of Cramer Hill, but she never forgot that my mom babysat for her.
So, for all these years, Georgia makes sure to visit my mom even if she has to drive an hour to reach Mom here in Cramer Hill. She takes Mom out to lunch. But, this week I made lunch for us and we ate at Mom’s table that she has had before I was born…so the table is, at least, twenty-five?….no, I’m lying, SIXTY-FIVE YEARS OLD. Lots of friends, neighbors and family have sat at that table!
We chatted and munched. How great to catch up on old times together!
My mom might have forgotten what happened yesterday, but she remembered Georgia and her children and even her grandchildren. She loved to hear Georgia’s tales of their talents and adventures.
Georgia cuts my mom’s hair on her visits and traditionally she won’t accept a penny. This week, my brother, Ken, set out money to try, try, try, to pay her for present and past haircuts. I said, “You have to take it this time, please. Ken’s going to be mad if I don’t make you take it.”
She laughed mischievously. “Let him be mad. I’m not taking it.”
Then, she paused at the door, went to the table and picked up the money. I was glad, but surprised. I thought, “Good, at last!”
She handed the cash to my mom and said, “For your birthday this month!”
My mom looked surprised at the money and quietly counted it. (She was the queen of budgeting and handling money well.) But, my mom doesn’t handle cash lately so having the bills in her hands pleased her. She folded them into her napkin, “I’ll save this money for Christmas gifts.”
Everyone hugged good-bye. Mom counted her money again after Georgia left. I know she felt rich–not only because of the gift of money, but she felt rich in friendship and rich in being appreciated after many decades. God bless you, Georgia. You never forgot your Cramer Hill friend. We appreciate and love you, too.
Marguerite (Wunsch) Ferra