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Reflections August 2012

Puttin' on the Gritz

Take a Message

By Cappy Hall Rearick

“I just remembered Janice said the woman in question is a few peas short of a casserole. That’s pretty funny.”

“For three days after death, hair and fingernails continue to grow, but phone calls taper off.”
— Johnny Carson

Something is inherently screwed up in my husband Babe’s psyche. A math whiz and consummate bridge player, he has never even made a mistake balancing the checkbook. So why can’t he write a simple phone number on a Post-It note?

I arrive home from my high school reunion (not telling which one so don’t ask). Babe is waiting for me with a chilled martini and a hug. I embrace them both with more passion than he has seen in a long time.

I listen with feigned interest as Babe details every golf shot he took for the 72 hours I was away.

“… I took a divot on my first shot and it fouled me up big time. I bogeyed that hole and the next one, too. I was jinxed.”

“Uh huh. Those freaking divots!” I don’t know a divot from a diving board but I respond appropriately, as if by rote, while unpacking.

“Jack and I came in first at bridge. I bid and made two slams …”

“Great.” Before he autopsies every hand he played, I jump in. “Did I get any calls I should return before this martini kicks in?”

I look up to see his face frozen in time. Take off 50 pounds and 100 years and Babe could pass for “The Thinker.”

“Yeah … you got a call a little while ago.”

“From who?”

“A classmate.”

“And that would be?”

“Uh … a woman.”

“Her name?”

“Uhh ... it started with a ‘B.’ I think.”

“Think harder, Babe. I don’t know a Barbara, Betsy, Brenda or Betty Boop.”

“Wait! It wasn’t a ‘B,’ it was a ‘J.’ Like Janet.”

“Janice?”

“Maybe. Yeah, I guess so.”

Janice and I said our goodbyes earlier and promised to stay in touch. Why would she call so soon?

“Babe, what did Janice want?”

“Somebody’s missing or not missing or dead.”

I drop the suitcase and yell a stream of unprintable words. “Who died? Was it a wreck after the reunion?”

“Uh. I can’t remember.”

“For heaven’s sake, Babe. Janice said somebody died. Can’t you remember who?”

“Now, you said her name was Janice. I said it might have been Janice. It could have been Janet or Jeanette.”

“I know one Janet and she lives two blocks away; I know one Jeanette and she lives in Atlanta. It had to be Janice. Think, Babe. Who died? When, and how?”

“She, Janet or Janice or whoever, said that you listed her as address unknown and then somebody mentioned she might be dead, but Janice thinks she lives in Columbia and she’s Loony Toons.”

I’d created a class bio booklet to update contact info but some classmates had vanished since we took that ceremonial group stroll to “Pomp and Circumstance.”

“Loony Toons? But Janice said she was dead.”

“Janice isn’t dead. It’s the other one — the loony one.” He giggles; I’m thinking I’m caught in the middle of a “Who’s On First” skit with a Lou Costello look-alike.

“I fail to see the humor in this, Babe.”

“I just remembered Janice said the woman in question is a few peas short of a casserole. That’s pretty funny.”

“The woman in question … her name?”

“I dunno. It started with an ‘L,” I think.”

“What’s up with you and the alphabet, Babe?”

My mind races down the L’s and stops when it gets to Lorenna. No surprise with her. The cheese slid off her cracker back in kindergarten.

“Was it Lorenna Gaskin?”

“Yeah! That’s it! Lorenna Gaskin.”

There it was, miraculously unveiled in alphabetical order.

He’s suddenly alert, happy to have contributed. He chuckles. “Janice said she was …

“Yeah, I know. A few peas short of a casserole.”

He yuks a few more times.

“Babe, is Lorenna dead?”

“Ummm. I don’t think so. Naah. Just, you know … nuts.”

I gulp what’s left of my martini, then take Babe’s hand and lead him to the kitchen. Switching on the overhead light, I point to the wall telephone and the yellow Post-It pad just below it. I lift the large cup brimming with pens patiently waiting for a tender human touch.

I pick up a pen and bring it close to his line of vision.

“Babe, I never thought my mission in life was to teach you how to write down a telephone message using a pen and a Post-It note. Apparently, I was wrong. Now, watch closely because I’m only going to do this once.”

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