Now ppl just call her "sea hag"

Mike has the next bit of reminiscing horror 2 share w/U all:

April,

Formerly little sis. Believe it or not, I believe mom and Connie Poirier have decided to have a conversation reminiscing about age that may run on for the whole month. According to mom she remembers quite a few stories from back in 1979 to 1980 where she thought she was old. I said, “You mean like the one where you got upset when you found the first wrinkle on your face?” She said, “No, Michael. You couldn’t see wrinkles on my face in those days. I barely had a pupil in my eye. I couldn’t have crow’s feet for just a pupil.” I said, “You mean the one where your body made strange noises when you got up in the morning?” She said, “No, Michael. That was your father.” I said, “OK. Which one then?” And mom said, “Well, in the beginning I am looking at the meat selection in the grocery store.” I said, “No, mom. I know this one. It starts with the barber.” Mom said, “Grocery store.” I said, “Barber.” Mom said, “I don’t remember any barber.” Then I said, “Well, that’s because you’re too old to remember it.” Then mom started crying and I said, “Calm down mom. I’ll tell the story and we’ll start from the meat counter in the grocery store, and not the barber.”

So, formerly little sis. Once upon a time, in Milborough, mom was in a grocery store looking at a meat counter. The butcher was right in front of her, a bald man with a unibrow almost completely obscuring his eyes. He pointed to mom and said, “Have you looked after this woman yet, Jake?” Jake was a younger fellow with glasses, and I guess he hadn’t looked after mom yet. Needless to say, mom was deeply disturbed by the whole conversation, but didn’t say anything except to roll her eyes.

The next part I remember didn’t have anything to do with a barber. We were all walking together to the car from the grocery and I was licking a lollipop and I don’t know where that lollipop came from, except it wasn’t from a barber. Helping mom carry her groceries was one of these people who help people carry groceries, only this one was pretty stupid, because mom still had to push Lizzie in a stroller and carry groceries too. You would think he would just put all mom’s groceries in a cart, but this was back in the 1980s and people were stupider back then. In fact, this fellow said to mom, “-that your wagon over there, ma’am?” Not exactly a vivid description, but there was something about it which caused mom to stoop over a little bit more and make her left arm really long.

Once we were in the car, mom strapped Lizzie into one of those car seats which looked like a miniature trampoline. I suppose the springs around the side were supposed to help with the impact, if there was an accident. I don’t know. I do know it was fun to jump on, even when Lizzie in it. This was not my concern though. My concern was with the barber. OK. I can’t take it anymore. There was a barber. I got my hair cut. Mom was flirting with the barber in the way that she does, but the barber said to her, “Missus Patterson, that’s not appropriate behaviour for a married woman.” Mom wasn’t wearing her wedding ring, which is true for most people in Milborough; but the barber knew she was a missus anyway. So I said to mom, “How did the barber know you was a missus, Hey mom? Mom? Mom?” In the middle of that bad grammar, there was still that question.

Well, mom never answered that question, but years later I ran into that barber and asked him how he knew. He said, “Look, Mike. Your mom had 2 small children with her, her hair tied in a pony tail, she had a plain yellow scarf around her neck, and she was shopping in the middle of the day. It was pretty obvious she was a missus.” This was a silly argument because my lovely Deanna has 2 children, her hair in a bowl cut, and she does her shopping in the middle of the day, and that doesn’t mean she is a missus. As a point of fact she is a missus; but she could just as easily have been a slutty single mother, like Connie Poirier. So, what it boils down to, is the barber thought mom was a missus, because he didn’t think she could be slutty. When you think about it that way, it does seem like a logical conclusion.

That logic aside, mom started thought bubbling “Woman…ma’am…Mrs….What ever happened to ‘Young Lady’?” Yes, formerly little sis, our mother actually wondered when it was that men in Milborough started being polite and stopped using the old sexist terms like “young lady”, the use of which Canadian feminists had run out of town almost a decade prior, along with “girl” or “gals” or “chick” or “wench” or “coed”. I suppose it was being around dad all the time with his sexist language, which threw her off.

It was around this point in my story, when mom said, “No, Michael. I preferred to be called ‘young lady’ because that’s what I was called when I was younger. Those other terms like ‘ma’am’ or ‘woman’ or ‘Mrs.’ made me feel old.” Then Connie Poirier said, “Elly. The women’s movement made sure you were no longer referred to by that degrading language.” Then mom said, “It’s not degrading, if it made you feel young.” Then Connie said, “Treating you like you were younger than you were, was a way of taking power and respect from you.” Then mom said, “Taking power and respect was all right for me, if I felt younger.” Then Connie said, “Mike, I have a feeling this conversation may run all month. I think I need to explain women’s liberation to your mother.” Needless to say, I took the opportunity to leave, after I had eaten a few things out of the refrigerator, of course.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Reminiscing 4 a month? I believe it Mike. Hoped it wasn't going 2 B true, but totally believe it. After U left, Mom kinda grilled me abt if I liked being called "yung lady." I sed no1 callz me that, and that if I did, I wdn't like it, cuz it's insulting. Mom called me a Martian and told me 2 walk the dogz.

Apes