March 22, 2004

Dear Jimmy,

I hope things are well with you all. Tell all the other hot rod boys that Mama says “Hey”. We had some sad news last week, though. Your great uncle Cooter passed away last Wednesday. He was 97 year old and they said it was from natural causes, but I don’t know.

Somebody said one time that he was magnanimus. Can that kill you?

Anyhow, he had been down with a bad cold for about a week so, before he went to bed Tuesday, Aunt Creesy had smeared him up real good with Vicks pneumonie grease 'til he looked like a canned ham. She thought sure that'd break it up.

Well, come the next morning, she called him -- and he didn’t get up, and he didn't get up, so she just knew he was in there pouting about them pet pigs of hers, so in she goes and starts spraying hair spray at his pillow just to be mean and make him get up.

Of course he didn’t, having died and all and Creesy felt real bad about it later after she rolled him over and he hit the floor like a log with fish eyes. Jimmy, you just don’t know how hard all you men can be to get along with sometimes.

Well, it was a real pretty day for a funeral, if you have to have one. Songs was sung, prayers was prayed, and a whole slew of folks shared fond memories of Uncle Cooter. But nothing was shared that shouldn’t have been shared, if you know what I mean.

My second cousin Murine’s youngest boy, Postum, did the cosmotology for the funeral and I wish you could have visually seen it with your own two eyes. Cooter looked so life-like you almost expected him to just reach down and scratch or something.

Now, you remember Postum, don’t you? He’s been trying to find himself for about 20 years.

First, he took that correspondence course on playing the violin and then got all tore up and pitched a fit when nobody came to his recital at the Elks’ lodge.

Then he took the taxidermy course and did real good work, but kept getting the animals mixed up. However, I do think he ended up making a bundle off the Jackalope.

Oh, how your old mama does run on so!!

Then he woke up one day and knew exactly what he wanted to do. He marched right down to the community college and signed up for Mortuary Science. I guess, deep down, he had always wanted to work with people.

Murine has great hopes for him if he will just pay more attention. Bless his heart, some of his clients (that’s what he calls the departed loved ones) have looked a little “wild” and “gamey”, if you know what I mean.

Anyhow, Reverend Norman was by the house yesterday and he was asking after all you boys. Jimmy, I know you remember Reverend Norman Tabbernackle, he used to have that choir. I do know that he is the most dedicated minister I have ever seen.

We were on the front porch talking when I noticed a woman setting in the front seat of his car. I asked him who it was and he said that wasn’t a real person. He said her name was Jezebel and that she is an inflatable “surrogate sinner” that he practices baptizing with.

Have you ever heard of such righteousness?

But then I got to thinking in my mind that he’d have a hard time getting her all the way under the water, but he said he’s just wrestling with the devil. It sounds like hard work, but I reckon somebody’s got to do it.

I told the girls at the circle meeting about it and they all allowed as how we don’t deserve Reverend Norman.

Well, I better close and get supper going. Ficus and Waynette and all them younguns are coming over for supper and I ain’t wrung the first neck yet.

Jimmy, remember who you are and it’s alright to eat oysters this month.

Love,

Mama