YOUR OBITUARY PICTURE




 My sister passed away recently, and I was an unwilling participant into the obituary picture process.  As a result of this experience, I wanted to share with you a few thoughts about obituary pictures in general and my sister’s, Luisa, picture in particular.  Perhaps my thoughts will help you in selecting an obituary picture for a deceased relative; or, with some pre-planning, the one used for own demise.







Margaret died at 97 yet looks about 35 in her obituary photo

 



The few times I scan the obituaries, I am always drawn to pictures of a young looking person.  My immediate reaction is how sad, to be taken so young.  Too frequently, I discover the beloved departed was 97 and that the picture was actually taken well over 50 years ago.  I feel a little as if I was tricked. A clue is what they are wearing.  If they have a World War II uniform or look like you mother did in the 1950's , it is likely the deceased chose to be remembered as they were in another by-gone era.

Viv was pretty when she was young and is still pretty

 In my opinion, a  more contemporary image of a deceased family member seems more appropriate.  While you certainly don’t want to portray the deceased unfavorably by using a picture when a person is literally on his/her death bed; the obituary photograph should be one that most in the community would actually recognize as the deceased.  A professional photo is prefered.  

For my sister's passing, my nephews choose a young, pretty picture of their mother for her obituary.  Upon seeing her image and obituar, my opinion on this subject softened and perhaps even changed.  Luisa had an absolutely perfect obituary picture.  It is the Luisa I want to forever remember. The image brought back so many nice memories.  The kind, pretty, loving older sister that treated me to ice cream, took me to movies, and taught me life’s lessons.

A loved one is gone, and all we have are the memories.  It probably for the better to cherish the good ones and remember deceased loved ones as you want to.  I am very happy remembering the pretty older sister who indulged my selfish childhood desires, the loving mother who put her children ahead of her wants and needs, the wonderful cook who made the best pepper steak and meatballs ever, and, even later in life when in great pain and suffering, the older woman of strong Christian beliefs, courage and strength who accepted her illness with dignity and few complaints.  .

Next time I look at obituary photographs, I will be more accepting of the choices made.  Perhaps, the widower wanted to remember his deceased wife as the pretty young woman he fell in love with and married many years ago; just as I prefer to remember Luisa as the young pretty woman of my childhood. 

FOG’s WEIRD LIFE

Martyrs Needed

Early Christian Martyrs

Martyrs are often ordinary people that get caught up in a cause and usually end up giving up their lives.  Their sacrifice helps to advance a cause.  Religions, revolutions and most causes, both great and small, need martyrs.  For some martyrs it is a choice, and for others it just happens largely by chance—the right place, the wrong time.  

Walking back from an Asheville City Council meeting, an unwilling FOG almost became a martyr for his Five Points Asheville neighborhood.  FOG did not want to be a martyr and instead was perhaps spared so that he could share his story.

Asheville at dusk

FOG lives close to Asheville’s downtown and walks all time, driving perhaps once or twice a week.  While walking, he tries to be attentive, not use his cell phone, and gives vehicles the right of way since they are bigger.

On the night in question, he was walking back from an Asheville City Council meeting attended by members of his neighborhood association.  The near-death experienced happened at that really bad intersection of Maxwell, Monroe, and East Chestnut Streets. 

Sometimes you are windshield and sometimes you are the bug

FOG was walking on the west sidewalk of Maxwell Street and crossing Monroe at the corner.  He had his umbrella open since it was raining a bit, but fortunately had it held high and was being observant. He sees a vehicle traveling west on East Chestnut Street at what seemed a higher rate of speed than prudent, and thought surely, it would continue traveling on East Chestnut since it seemed to be going too fast to make a left turn. He started to cross Monroe, but the car did not continue on East Chestnut and instead the driver made a left turn to get on Monroe Street.  Since it close to 130 degree left turn from E. Chestnut to Monroe, and not the typical 90 degree left turn, a driver can make the turn going much faster. There was no left turn signal, but fortunately the driver sees FOG and hits the brakes.  It was just a bit to close for comfort.

FOG hurried home thinking how ironic it would be had he been run over returning from an Asheville City Council Meeting where the neighborhood association was promoting the need for better neighborhood pedestrian safety . He thought that he did not want to be like the Chicago girl who was shot back home in Chicago, just weeks after attending the President's Inauguration in Washington.  Her death was used to justify increased gun control legislation.  While FOG supports pedestrian safety, he is not ready to become a martyr for the cause.

Good Riddance and Boo!

Mr. FOG owns some rental properties.  One recent rental has produced a high maintenance tenant, who almost every month has some issue, problem, or concern.

With four months left of the lease, the tenants asked to speak to FOG in person, saying the matter was too delicate to discuss on the phone.  FOG thought this could be one of three things; the tenants could not pay the rent, wanted to move, or add another occupant to property.  FOG guessed right, but was completely blown away by the reason they wanted to move.  They wanted to move because the condo they are renting is supposedly haunted by FOG’s mother, who has been deceased for about 15 years. 

Lady Ghost on the Stairs

The tenants said that a clairvoyant came to the house saw the presence on a woman with long black hair who came to dinner table to smoke a cigarette and drink rum.  Also they noted her presence on the stairway; often feel a chill on the third step and noises.  The tenants knew that FOG’s mother had lived in the condo.  FOG took the news calmly and did not refute the haunting claim, but clarified that his mother did not have long hair, did not drink rum, did smoke cigarettes, and died peacefully in the hospital.  There is no reason for her spirit to be unsettled.  Also others have lived in the house after her death, including FOG, without any ghostly sightings.

Glad to be rid of them, FOG agreed to let the tenants leave before the end of their lease and refund their security deposit as long as the condo is returned in good condition.  However the lease specifically limits the number of occupants of the unit.  Since the woman with long black hair was a resident and not FOG’s mother; FOG may be entitled to back rent from the tenants for this additional occupant, who is presumably a spirit from the tenant’s family.  Hopefully this spirit will move with the high maintenance tenants, but  leave the rum.  She can take the cigarettes.

St. Valentine’s Day Tears Revisited

One BLOG reader opined that Mr. FOG should not waste his time on Ugly/Pretty cat and needed to get a real girl friend.  FOG considered her point of view and decided that if he could not keep a cat satisfied, a girl friend would be much harder too keep happy.  When he has successfully mastered cat relationships, he can then move on to human beings.

ST. VALENTINE'S DAY TEARS

It is always hard when we are rejected, and it’s not always in the love scene.  It could be on the job or at home.  Your ideas or feelings being dismissed or ignored by superiors, colleagues, or even you own family members.  However, being rejected by your girlfriend, boyfriend, spouse, or significant other, is especially hard.  In these relationships, you probably have given of yourself totally and rejection is very painful.  Wasn’t I man enough for her?  Wasn’t I pretty enough for him?  Being rejected cuts deep, down to your very soul and can have you questioning your self-worth.  A St. Valentine’s Day rejection, with everybody else in love, is the kiss of death.

You may be saying, not you Mr. FOG, this could not have happened to you; but yes.  And it happened again this Valentine’s Day 2013.  A time or two in the past, I have been the both the one doing the rejecting and the one being rejected.  Strangely, both are difficult experiences, but in different ways.  For sure being rejected is far worse, especially if you are too blind and don’t see it coming.

Typical responses, and usually depending on one’s ego and maturity, can range from lashing out at a former lover, to wallowing in self-pity.  “Well, I hope she rots in Hell is a common reaction”.  For some, revenge, real or imagined, can be very satisfying.  And still for others, perhaps a lot of crying and a little drinking is the way to go.  FOG generally goes for the last option with a bit of wishful revenge.

Seeking comfort, often with an old flame to prove that you still got it can be very good ego- booster, but there are perils.  If an old flame is not around, finding a substitute may do the trick.  Try going to a Dixie Diva dive bar like the one his Lordship and FOG saw in New Orleans.  You may find that special someone for the night in a dark, intimate, friendly little place just off Bourbon Street, where a gentleman can buy a lady a drink.  You drink, you talk, she listens and sympathizes and if the chemistry is right, maybe something more meaningful follows.  The liquor helps to make the decision easier.  Not to bested, a jilted woman, especially a mature one, may do something similar and prowl the bars like a hungry cougar looking for a younger man to prove that she still has what it takes.

Hattie a fun-loving 76 year old has been dating younger men
for 20 years.  I wonder what her husband says about this?

A sad country song that almost breaks your heart and some liquor, but not too much liquor, can help me ease the pain.  But mostly it takes time to make the hurt go away.  Here is the sad country song link I cried to when I was dumped in 1999.  Find your own booze, pour yourself a drink and listen to the song.  And if you are strong enough and ready to also remember the last time you were rejected in love, listen to my last break-up song, while I tell you the rest of my story.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39UvGoHSHew    (Skip the advertisement)  "Tonight the Heartache's on Me" is a song by the Dixie Chicks, and the final single from their 1998 album Wide Open Spaces. It was released in May 1999.

_____________________________________________________

FOG had long suspected infidelity, unexplained absences, not knowing where she was, and her caresses, while still warm, were not as ardent or as frequent as before.  Mr. FOG rationalized; that the ardor of our love is maturing to something much better;  we are two free spirits, give her room, don’t try to hold on to her too much, since it may only drive her away, etc..

But it was a neighbor’s whisper that pushed FOG over the edge.  She had been seen by others leaving our house and going down the alley, toward the garage apartment that FOG could see from his yard.  At first, trusting FOG thought, it is fine, she takes the alley as a short-cut cut, perhaps she is just talking a long walk or visiting Candy on the next street over.  However the absences became longer and more frequent.  What do I do, thought FOG; confront the “alleged” jezebel, or just wait and see.  Not wanting to lose her, or perhaps not wanting to know the truth, FOG went with “wait and see” approach and said nothing for several weeks.

The day before Valentine’s Day 2013, FOG finally asked a neighbor, a long time resident of the neighborhood, about the strange man living in the garage apartment.  FOG had only seen him a time or two from a distance.  He was dressed all in black, in a Goth Johnny Cash look, and was practicing with a whip in the yard.  FOG, a man who does odd things himself, knows odd, and this whip thing is really odd.  According to the neighbor, the Johnny Cash wanna be, was on disability and was on drugs most of the time.  Why would she pick a man on disability, on drugs, living in a shoddy garage apartment, and likes to crack a whip for hours?  Does she have a Marquis de Sade fetish, I knew nothing about?  How does a man on disability pay for recreational drugs?.  Does a government funded disability pay that well that one can afford both drugs and living expenses?.  How can FOG get on disability? And if so, does FOG also get a free Obama phone—really a Clinton/Bush phone-- since the program originated in the late 1990's.  http://obamaphone.net/

So many unanswered questions.

Finally on Valentine’s Day , when it was obvious that my loved one was not coming home for our planned St. Valentine’s Day dinner; FOG, on a sudden impulse, decided to confront his allegedly unfaithful lover and her paramour.  He had to know the truth; and best to catch them in the act, so that there can be no more excuses or any more lies.  Just be a man about it and go over there unannounced.  He walked down the alley, and hesitated, but only for a moment before going up the stairs to the garage apartment.  He heard music, but fortunately nothing else.

A knock on the door, produced Marcus.  True, Marcus was younger by far, but he certainly was a not a “catch”, by any means.  Love is not only blind, but stupid as well.  What a waste of a life, thought FOG.  So young and living a life in drug stupor.  He had bad teeth, and was holding an oddly shaped plate with something that looked like marijuana, and a lot of it.  Perhaps it was medicinal, marijuana given his disability, but he did not look too disabled.  Could the bad teeth be a sign of crystal meth use, not just poor dental hygiene??  Could he be both a user and dealer of both marijuana and hard drugs and this is way he makes a living?

The conversation did not start off well.  FOG explained that his cat had not been home for several days and he wanted to make sure she was OK.  FOG calmly asked a simple and direct question “Have you seen my cat?”  A befuddled Marcus in a semi-drug induced daze at first pleaded ignorance to any cat; and then finally said Oh, yeah that tortoise shell colored cat.  How many cats does he have in this place thought FOG?  FOG calmly responded yes, she’s the one with my telephone number on her collar tag.  Marcus explained that he had seen both the collar tag and number but had not thought to call the number to make sure it was OK for him to keep the cat.  The cat, ignoring all of this seemed happy enough, sleeping comfortably in the messy living room that apparently has not been cleaned in months, and perhaps years.

FOG seeing that they might have a good thing going on, backtracked, saying that he only wanted the cat’s happiness and was making sure she was OK.  Apparently FOG’s cat has been shacking up, off and on, with Marcus for weeks.  At first, it was little short visits, and then finally she moves in for good, missing our special St. Valentine’s Day dinner.  It was hard, seeing her asleep in this strange house, but Mr. FOG accepted the rejection as gracefully as one could.  What could he do?  Take the cat home for their Valentines Day dinner just to have her sneak back to Marcus later?    He did not want to hold her prisoner.

Marcus said that the reason she came over, was the nice soft cat food he feeds her.  But FOG knew there was more to it.  The cat had not left FOG because this younger, supposedly disabled, drug addicted man was a better man or had the soft cat food.  Alone in life, he gave Ugly/Pretty cat what she needed, attention and love.    Perhaps also Ugly/Pretty Cat, now called Hashish, gives Marcus the unconditional love he also needs.  FOG travels and is gone a lot and the cat was searching for what she wanted the most.  Perhaps, it is better this way, at least for now.  Ugly/Pretty cat is happy, Marcus is content, and FOG has his booze, sad Country Western songs, and memories. 

Let FOG’s St. Valentine’s Day rejection be a lesson.  Give your loved ones what they need.  It is not about your sexual prowess or beauty.  While these are good things to have in your love arsenal, often it is about the affection and attention we give one another and the consistency with which it is shown.



Cat-nip Stupor

 Not a quitter, FOG will try to win Ugly/Pretty cat back this summer, by planting catnip in his garden.  If the cat wants drugs, FOG is willing to be her supplier.  Plus giving her affection and attention, of course

MR. FOG’S CRUISE DIARY

THE EURODAM AT THE TURKS AND CAICOS

Wanting to get a tan to see him through the winter, Mr. Fog took a cruise with his aunt, the Marquesa De Quejas.  The Marquesa had been complaining, more than normal; asking when Fog was going to visit her and where he would take her.  A cruise seemed to strike the right balance of togetherness and alone time.  We just got back from the cuise.  Both Jimmy Durante's Song of Make Someone Happy and the truism "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished" are competing as to which best would characterize the trip.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jxF-FeOCxlg

A Balcony or Verandah?

Fog would have liked a cruise with less octogenarians, although it is a two-edged sword.  One also runs the risk of being on a ship with a“party “ crowd or countless screaming children, then the octogenarians don’t  seem that bad.  Carnival, the “party” cruise line, was out, but Royal Caribean, NCL, and Princess were strong contenders.  Fog picked Holland America, since the Indonesian and Filipino crew, was more likely to be attentive to the Marquesa de Quejas, whose needs, if not great, are numerous to the point of being almost incessant.

Holland America, perhaps to set itself apart, charge more, or trick their patrons into thinking they are really royalty but were switched at birth; calls its balconies, verandahs.  In any event, FOG and Marquesa lucked out.  Between their complementary upgrades and by paying $200 more, they turned their interior cabin to a verandah cabin.  FOG did not enjoy the balcony as much as he would have liked.  He decided to have more alone time, leaving the cabin and the verandah to the Marquesa.  He sought his refuge elsewhere on the ship.  Still the verandah provided a bit more space and two very separate areas for the cruising duo, which helped. 

A VERANDAH SIESTA

Please beware about overpaying for a verandah on your next cruise.  While nice and a definite plus, it is not as private as you would think.  Since your have neighbors on either side, above and below you, there are balconies and people all around you.  You may be listening to early morning phlegm coughing from the husband and complaints about prices from the wife.  This elderly couple was on the adjoining right veranda.  By their accents, they are from a Southern state, possibly from Tennessee.  Conversations, slamming doors, music, partying and arguments are not uncommon.  Still, for much of the time, the Marquesa’s balcony/verandah was a peaceful private oasis for reading, enjoying a cup of coffee or a nap.

Gift Receiving Advice

The Marquesa de Quejas had a Christmas gift waiting for Mr. FOG when he arrived in Miami.  Fearing the worst and since it was not yet Christmas, FOG did not want to open the gift.  The Marquesa, very proud of her selection, insisted; saying it was very expensive, designer-made, the latest fashion and perfect for FOG to wear on the cruise.  This should have given FOG a heads up on what awaited him.  Still no one could have been fully prepared and an “Oh my God” escaped from FOG’s mouth when he opened the box. 

DISCO PIMP SHIRT

The gift is perhaps best described as a “Tropical Scottish Disco Pimp Shirt”.  It has tropical colors, appropriate for a Caribbean cruise, a plaid-like pattern, and the open collar which can be adjusted to show off the wearer’s heavy a gold eagle necklace.  By leaving three or more unbuttoned buttons, the wearer can show off his chest, if worthy of exposure.  This is the type of shirt, except for the clearance racks, you see only perhaps once or twice year in public and you do a “double take”.

Given the reasonably good matching of horizontal and diagonal lines in the tailoring, the shirt likely is probably “well-made”, as the Marquesa described.  Also, supposedly, Stacy Adams is a designer of sorts--Nurse Sherry would know.  The shirt likely was expensive at one time, but when not purchased for months or perhaps years; it was likely heavily discounted to get it off the shelves.  Since a picture is worth a thousand words, FOG will let you judge for yourself, if the assessment has been too harsh, or perhaps not harsh enough. 

In gift receiving, sometimes it is best to lie and not hurt another person’s feelings, and other times it is better to say what you think and stand your ground.  A lie would mean that FOG would have to wear the shirt on the cruise.  Telling the truth, which would likely offend the Marquesa, was FOG’s only option.  FOG said politely, but firmly, that he would not /could not wear the shirt in public.  Almost sounding like Dr. Seuss’s “Green Eggs and Ham: --I could not wear here, I could not wear it there.  I could not wear it anywhere. 

Fortunately the Marquesa said that FOG did not have to keep the shirt and suggested that his Lordship, who apparently in her opinion has better fashion sense than FOG, might want the shirt, since this “expensive” item could not be returned.  Of course it could not be returned.  What merchant would want this item back once it left the store?  FOG jumped at her suggestion, saying he would gladly take the shirt to his Lordship.  Perhaps he can use it while golfing in Scotland??

During this holiday season, you have to decide on your own gift receiving strategy, but let FOG’s experience be a warning.

The Marquesa and FOG —A Couple???

Several times, the cruise staff, presumably due to the same last name and that they were sharing a cabin, thought that Mr.FOG and the Marquesa de Quejas were a couple.  FOG thinks of himself as a youthful looking senior.  The Marquesa is nearly eighty, significantly overweight, rocks side to side when she walks, and has a myriad of other health issues associated with old age.  Surely FOG doesn’t look as is he could her mate???  FOG may be due for some payback on this front, since in the past he has gotten the better side of the deal has been thought to be his daughter’s husband or his sons’ brother.

Lolito and the Marquesa

That left Fog with two conclusions.  He in fact looks older than he thinks and this is why the ship’s staff thought he was the Marquesa’s prince consort.  The other option, a bit better on the ego, is that the crew obviously used to seeing this before, thought FOG to be the Marquesa’s cruise gigolo.  It was the Marquesa who paid for FOG to be on the cruise, and not the other way around.  He was her plaything and admittedly FOG did feel as the Marquesa’s plaything at times.  FOG has seen older men with younger women and thought nothing of it.  The shoe is on the other foot, and FOG is now seen as a “Lolito”. But FOG is far too old to be a Lolito; a Gentleman Host sounds better.  Perhaps he should have brought and worn the Tropical Scottish Disco Pimp Shirt and truly accepted his role on this cruise.

Well enough revealing cruise stories.  What else happens on the cruise, stays on the cruise. 

We are back at the Marquesa's Villa.   With the bags not even yet unpacked, the Marquesa de Quejas is wondering where FOG will take her on the next trip.  No good deed goes unpunished, may be winning over "make someone happy".

MR. FOG FAILS CIVICS CLASS

You may remember civics class from your early school years.  It was a class that FOG vaguely remembers taking, perhaps once or twice a week.  The purpose of this class was to help instill the attributes of being a good citizen.  Well, apparently the class did not take in FOG's ase and he may now need to take a remedial refresher civics class.  Working America, a voter watchdog group, of sorts; gave FOG a below than average grade, due to his poor voting record.

FOG received his “voter’s report card” in the mail a day or so before he early voted, but did not look at it.  FOG focuses on the bills and checks that come in the mail.  He grouped this particular piece of junk mail with happy smiling children, likely from a dentist he thought, as another piece of trash mail to be perused when time permits and likely be discarded.

This year, FOG was proud of himself.  He thought hard and long about his election choices.  Although undecided for a long time, for the presidential and congressional races he had pretty much decided for whom he was voting.  But new to North Carolina,  there were so many other offices and people FOG had never heard of wanting his vote.  The candidates ranged from the Soil and Water Conservation District Supervisor to the dog catcher, it seemed.

FOG thought it a mistake to take the easy way out and make one check mark and vote along straight party lines.  Votes are cast for people, not political parties.   All too often, he opines, politicians owe their allegiance to a political party and serve their party, more faithfully, than the citizenry they represent.  FOG was not going to compound this problem by voting along party lines.  Consequently, FOG, a retiree, spent nearly a full day researching the various candidates on the ballot and deciding which candidates, regardless of political party, he was going to vote for.  He may have voted correctly, or he may have voted wrong; but he made a good faith effort to be informed and vote at least semi-intelligently.  If wrong, he reasoned, others doing their civic duty, would cancel out his vote.  He felt as if he had done his civic duty and earned a gold star, or at least a silver one.

The day after he cast his early vote, he got back to the set aside junk mail.  The smiling children were not promoting a dentist, but were a “feel good” ruse image for a more ominous message.  FOG learned that he had been judged to be a below average citizen.  No gold star for him, but a lump of coal.  Foolishly, FOG had been proud of himself in taking the time to learn more about the candidates and trying to be an educated voter in 2012; yet Working America said he was below average voter.  FOG received this failing grade because he had not voted since 2009 in at least five general elections.  He voted in the 2008 presidential election, but moved to Asheville in 2009, and although registered, did not make the time to vote in the many local elections and one congressional election.  He was not informed voter about the local issues and chose not to vote.  Admittedly he could have taken the time to become more informed and vote, so he may deserve a bad grade for 2010 election.  However, five general elections from 2009 to 2012 seems like a lot of elections.

The next emotion was outrage.  Who is this Orwellian Working America that would know if FOG voted or not?  Isn’t it also an American right “not to vote”???  However, according to the Working America report card:

 “Who you vote for is your secret.  But whether you vote is public record”.

 After the November election, FOG will follow-up with his County Board of Elections to determine if they released his voting information, what information is released, to whom and the rules governing the release of voter information.  FOG now fears Healthy America will also be sending him a report card for his old Personal Hygiene class if he doesn’t  wash his hands every time he goes to the bathroom.  How will they know??? Security cameras, perhaps??

Although the story could change as the facts come in, .FOG has learned or surmised the following,   Working America is affiliated with the AFL/CIO.  Since FOG lives in a heavily Democratic area, Working America likely did a mass mailing of “report cards” to the non-voters in FOG’s area to help get out the vote, which given demographics, should favor the candidates of the Democratic Party.  To be fair, Country Club America or various other organizations supporting Republican Party candidates is probably sending report cards, inflammatory statements, or something like it, to the non-voters in areas more likely to vote for Republican Party candidates. 

The Democratic Party did a very strong voter outreach effort for the 2012 election, and likely FOG got caught up in this effort.  FOG could accept his Working America report card chastisement with a little better attitude, and parhaps even contrition,  if had it been sent by an impartial organization, such as the League of Women Voters.  These organizations are apolitical and encourage people to vote and be educated voters.  Working America’s is a partisan organization whose tactics seem to be a thinly veiled piece of electioneering, disguised, to make it a more palatable “civic duty”; with a heavy dose of intrusion of privacy.  FOG does not like to be manipulated and values his privacy.  Working America violated both of these values.  He also remembers getting at least three visits to his door and two phone calls promoting Democratic candidates, and thinks the voter report card and door visits and telephone calls may be coordinated effort.  If he was on a mailing list, he could be on other lists as well.  Apparently Mitt doesn't care about FOG, so he must be in the 47 percent in the Republican's books. 

Surprisingly, FOG reflected,  the Jehovah’s Witnesses people have not visited him in nearly two months.  Perhaps they are smart enough to stay away during electioneering times.  FOG is glad the electioneering is almost over.  He would rather have the Jehovah’s Witnesses people coming to his door.  At least the purpose of the Jehovah’s Witness People’s visit is more altruistic.

This BLOG clearly falls in the “rants and raves” category, but was also posted to alert you that your voting privacy is probably not as “private” as you thought.

WINNING HALLOWEEN PUMPKIN

FOG's Winning Tongue Pumpkin

This year Halloween was a bit slow in Asheville .  The worst of weather had gone, but it was still a bit cool, which may have kept some of the kids away. 

Luckily, FOG started his Halloween early by entering a pumpkin carving contest at a local bar.  It was a charity event, but offered a $50 bar tab to the winner.  He decided to enter the contest.


Thankfully for FOG, the completion was not fierce; and FOG's entry, a pumpkin with its tongue sticking out, surprisingly won second place.   He took his time and let his opponents drink.  He remained sober and this may have given him a competitive edge. 

The winning pumpkin was an intricate carving of lines.  It was more artistic than Halloween, and FOG could not tell what was being depicted; but it was by far, the best carving work and deserved to win 

FOG's Tongue Pumpkin just made it to second place, beating out the Hangover Vomit Pumpkin, which was carved with less care.  No picture, but this pumpkin showed a lot of creativity showing what could happen to you if you drink too much.  A shot glass, sans booze, was a prop and the pumpkin insides of mesh, flesh, and seeds were used for the vomit.  It was a very clever depiction, especially for a pumpking carving contest being held at a bar.  If possible a picture will follow. 



FOG's Halloween Porch



As runner-up, FOG got a $25 bar tab and he donated an equal amount to the charity sponsoring the event.  This was the highlight of FOG's Halloween 2012.  Rick, an amateur painter from Melbourne, Florida, deserves credit for FOG's pumpkin, since he provided artistic suggestions and critique.  Surely FOG will share the bar tab with him.




FOG proudly decorated his porch with dollar store lanterns and his winning pumpkin, but those  pesky squirrels were at it again.  One of them stole the tongue from FOG's pumpkin, ruining the effect.  FOG had used a nice tasty morsel of pumpkin flesh for the tongue and it was held by a toothpick.  A squirrel tore the tongue from the pumpkin’s mouth and was eating it when FOG caught him/her in the act.  A brief chase ensued, but the squirrel was too quick, FOG too slow, and Ugly/Pretty Cat was no help.  FOG's poor Tongue Pumpkin now has a prosthesis made from a leaf, since no pumpkin tongue donors were available.  FOG's once proud winning pumpkin looks very miserable, with missing teeth where the tongue was and a leaf in its mouth.

Pumpkin with Tonque Prosthesis

FOG opted to be Super Mario for Halloween, a change from his usual choices of military or scary outfits.  He had a nice group of trick or treaters. 

FOG does not give candy for Halloween.  The kids have enough sweets, and the parents are supposed to feed their children.  Instead FOG gives school supplies and little toys for the pre-schoolers.  The supplies are upscale, including calculators and pencil bags.  The kids are not too disappointed, the parents are happy, and FOG feels better about not contributing to cavities and childhood obesity.

Super Mario with Fulton Street Trick Or Treaters

SMALL TOWN AMERICA

After the St. Simons Island wedding, FOG was not ready to call it quits and go back home just yet.  The stop was sort of on the way back home to Asheville; so he added a visit to small town North Carolina, home to Tom the lawyer’s parents.  Tom’s parents live where North and South Carolina meet the ocean not too far from Wilmington, NC. 

As many other American small towns, it is a place that has probably seen its best days already and is unlikely to ever see them again.  There is no industry to speak off, the few young people leave to go elsewhere for jobs, and the downtown is boarded up or under-utilized.  While all of this may not sound as a place one would want to visit; it was a fun stop.  Tom has really nice parents, and it is a quiet, peaceful place with wonderful people.

Kayak Hillbilly

The lead photo selected for this BLOG is entirely the credit/fault of Herman, Tom the lawyer’s Dad.  He wanted to put Eloise, his wife of 60 plus years, up on Mr. FOG’s kayak which was on the roof of the Honda Element, a la the Beverly Hillbillies, for a picture.  If it were not dangerous, he probably would have wanted to her to ride up there around town.  Doing this seemed totally inappropriate to FOG and it was not mentioned to Eloise. The trio compromised on a picture with props around the kayak and Honda Element, sans a Granny Eloise Clampett.  Fog thought that it could have been a Grandpa Herman Clampett on top and the effect would have been similar.

Herman cleverly thought of an intriguing image with the analogy of a rocking chair on top of an old truck; to that of a kayak on the top of the Element.  However, FOG subsequently wondered if Herman's comparison was insulting FOG’s Element and kayak combination as being hillbilly, redneck, or even white trash???   FOG thought he looked cool with kayak and Element, perhaps not??

As an aside, the Clampett truck, which is actually owned by Pearl, Jethro’s mother; is said to be a 1922 or 1923 Buick flatbed truck.

Elderberry Wine Anyone??

FOG’s first day in small town North Carolina was co-incidentally the third Tuesday of the month, fortuitously for  FOG.  This is the day the Elderberries get together for their monthly meeting.  The Elderberries is an amalgamation of Baptist, Methodist, and Presbyterian seniors who get together for camaraderie and fun.  They were meeting at the Chadbourn Baptist church, in the old sanctuary--for Catholics the old church--which became the fellowship hall--for Catholics the parish hall--, when the new church was built in the early 1960’s. 

Let this BLOG section serve as a warning, lest you make the same mistake when attending inter-denominational gatherings.  FOG, a vino-phile and proud of it, thought that possibly the “Elderberries” name might be wine related.  He remembered the old movie of Arsenic and Old Lace, where the elderly spinster sisters, Cary Grant called them "maiden", which sounds much nicer; served elderberry wine laced with arsenic to old men, whom they thought were ready to have peace their lives. It was a sort of Dr. Kevorkian, euthanasia, although Kevorkian’s “victims/patients” asked for help to end their lives, and these men did not.  A big difference.  Perhaps there was a subliminal  euthanasia facet to the Elderberries, FOG wondered.

To make small talk and satisfy his curiosity, FOG politely asked the Baptist church Secretary if elderberry wine had any connection to the Elderberries’ name.  He could tell from the expression on her face, that this was not a good question.  FOG then remembered, belatedly, that Baptists and Methodists don’t drink.  He is not sure about the Presbyterians.

Tom’s dad stepped in, to save FOG from the horrible vino faux pas, saying that Chadbourn, the strawberry capital of North Carolina, although now only a shade of its former self, was the source of the name.  “Berry” from the town’s strawberry fame, and “elder” from the senior title that its many aging members proudly hold.  FOG accepted this.  Thank-you Herman. 

With eternal spring optimism, FOG still hoped that elderberry wine, sans the arsenic of course, might be served during or after the meal in the Baptist Fellowship Hall.  Isn't elderberry wine sort of like communion wine. Water and tea, both sweet and unsweetened were served.   FOG chose the water which was very good.

Perhaps to make up for no elderberry wine, the Elderberries had a wonderful food.  A selection of homemade church-social foods was served, reminding FOG of a time gone by.  No fusion cooking, Rachael Ray, or Emeril here, but recipes from 20 or 30 years ago that one would find in the women’s magazines.  It was like stepping back in time.  One tasty offering was Ritz crackers crumbled into something with cheese.  FOG had two helpings this one.  He also had a green thing that he has not tasted in years, but his taste buds remembered tasting this one sometime in his life. The Elderberries do know how to cook. 

The luncheon program was combination of faith and fun.  The program director put together three videos for the day’s program.  The first, a moving spiritual about entrusting our lives to Jesus’s hands and the other two, featured a favorite, well-known North Carolinian story teller called Jeanne Robertson.  One of her videos was about taking a Baptist going to Las Vegas and another about a hussy.  The very provocative titles surely piqued the interest of the attendees, perhaps hoping for something scandalous.  For the December meeting, the Elderberries will take the church bus to Wilmington for a Christmas activity to be selected.  If possible, FOG will try to return to Chadbourn on the third Tuesday of the month when the Elderberries meet. Here is a link to Robertson and one of Mr. FOG’s favorites stories:  "Men Don't Know the Style in NYC"   Listen to all of of it.  The punch line is at the end.   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QNfzKiS-eTU&feature=relmfu

NOTE:  After doing chores later in the day, MR. FOG was still feeling short changed in going to an Elderberry function and not getting any elderberry wine.   He decided to have an especially generous happy hour to make up for this.  Things in FOG’s universe tend to balance out.

County Programs for the Aging

The next day included another free meal at the Chadbourn Senior Center.  A county supported program, seniors, regardless of income, are offered a subsidized lunch.  It provides a balanced meal, since many elderly living alone find it hard to cook.  The communal lunch also offers the companionship of others, including people he recognized from the the Elderberry luncheon the day before.  It is of course small town USA.  Jane, a neighbor of Tom’s parents, played the piano.  Since FOG is a country western music aficionado, and her repertoire included “Don’t Fence Me In”, this is what she played.   Fog and the other seniors used to know the words, but had somehow forgotten them over the years.  Good thing that for the most part,  Jane still knew which notes to play.

The trip to small town America ended much too soon.  While not its former self, small towns are getting by and still offer a peaceful oasis as alternative to city live.  One wonders how long they can last.