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Humor September 2012

Puttin' on the Gritz

The Saving Grace

By Cappy Hall Rearick

A giggle sifts through the swell of noise from behind me. It is a woman old enough to be her own mother. The genius who invented name tags deserves a Nobel Prize. "Old age is when former classmates are so gray, wrinkled and bald, they don't recognize you."

My high school class reunion is in full swing and here I stand in the middle of the room surrounded by people I shared classes with for 12 of my much younger years. They are almost unrecognizable. Is that Annabelle Bolen? No way. She's too old and out of shape to be the Beauty Queen we loved to hate.

Bogged down on Memory Lane, I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around to find an old man way close in my personal space. He's grinning like he just discovered Viagra.

"Hey there!" I pretend that I know him.

"Gimme a hug, he says." His larger-than-life hands pull me into a Goliath Grip. "You look good enough to bring home."

Recognition hits. The old fool hugging the daylights out of me is Jimmy Clyde Lewis, the most unpopular, most obnoxious, most unattractive, least athletic, worst dancer and least likely to succeed in high school history.

He squeezes me again and he may have broken my rib.

"Lemme look at you, girl." He must have eaten all the deviled eggs on the buffet table; his breath smells like a coffin.

"Lemme see your ring finger," he commands, sounding too much like Fifty Shades of Grey. I'm glad I cleaned my wedding ring this morning. I snatch my hand away and dazzle him with a ten- karat smile. "Back off, Bubba." He blanches as though he's been hexed.

A giggle sifts through the swell of noise from behind me. It is a woman old enough to be her own mother. The genius who invented name tags deserves a Nobel Prize.

"Martha Linn?"

She giggles again and then opens her arms. It has been 50 something years since we've seen each other and I don't mean to be cruel, but it looks like the word diet was not her priority.

She steals the next half hour from me by relating every inconsequential thing her grandchildren have ever done or not done. Having to hear the Social Security numbers of all seven of her grands constitutes cruel and unusual punishment. In Martha Linn's case, TMI is a huge understatement.

When she stops to catch a breath, I jump in like Esther Williams in a 1955 swim film. "I call mine the grandkids from hell,” I say.

No sooner have the words left my lips when she jumps away like I'm breathing fire. Hands that patted me with warmth turn into fingers threatening my eyeballs.

"They gotta be saved," she shrieks. "The Rapture, don't cha know."

She took me seriously so I back away as though she has explosives strapped to her sizable waist.

"Oh, Martha Linn, let me explain..."

She covers her ears, squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head.

"I'm not listening to blasphemous words from your sinful lips." Her voice is a whisper. Then she opens her eyes. "I'll pray for the evil to be flushed from your soul."

Dropping to her knees, she mutters what I assume is a prayer, although I'm not sure because she's speaking in tongues. I need to get out away before she opens her pocketbook and brings out rattlesnakes. Could this be the same Martha Linn aka Martha Sinn? She was the only person who knew how to roll a doobie.

By this time, I'm in need of a dry double martini and I don't care if it surprises every snake handler in the Southeast.

There's David who was so quiet he was almost invisible. Now he's graced with large, sympathetic, Omar Shariff chocolate eyes and I'm torn between staring at him and finding the martini of my dreams.

My voice is steeped in angst when I say to him, "David, do you drink alcohol? Please tell me you do."

Laughing, he nods his head. "Like a fish so says my wife, Grace Ann. We were chilling out on the porch when we saw you getting a baptism by fire, courtesy of Saint Martha Linn. Grace Ann told me it was time for me to grab a slingshot and do my David and Goliath thing, so here I am. She's the one holding up the martini glass," he says, with a big grin.

I glance over his shoulder at Grace Ann and blow her a grateful kiss.

Like it says in the Bible, "By grace, ye shall be saved."

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