She was buried with her fishing pole and a pack of Winston Light 100s. My cousin took her fishing last week. She demanded they sit out the rain on the lake and she wound up catching the biggest fish out of all of them. My family all sat out on the porch the first night, they drank, we smoked, everyone told stories about Nana; condemming people at her nursing home who were Earnhart fans as "not real race fans", her iron thumbed rule and her Alzheimers intensifying for predeliction for swearing and blue humor . She was real judgemental, took care of you whether you wanted her to or not, told people to their face she was disgusted with them, her sense of humor wicked. My mom is my mother, but in many ways, I was my nana's child.
The service was bullshit. I said to Matt "The service was 89% about salvation in Jesus Christ and 12% about my nana." "Well, at least you got 101% of a service," he said. I think I am the only person in my family down with JC, and I was ready to give the pastor a curby against the casket's edge. The part that happens before they inter the casket into the grave was better, a poem she liked and balloons in IU red & white colors, a Bobby Knight joke.
There were hijinx and many many foods I could not eat including potato-chip, cheez-whiz hotdish and red velvet cakes and enough ham to pave all of the Kenneth "Baby Face" Edmunds Memorial Highway section of 65. My cousin took us off roading into the soupy mud of the woods in a beat up golf cart, til we got it stuck and had to walk back through the woods in the dark while it rained. Yesterday he gave us a tour of his deer stand after the funeral. We watched a deer and a fawn eat clover from a camofluage treehouse that seats three. He also showed us his weapons cache and explained bow-speed. I held a .357 Magnum, it weighed as much as my cousins baby.
I turn 30 on the 5th. My wish list now includes 100 acres of woods and a camo treehouse.Posted by Jessica at September 1, 2006 11:20 AM | TrackBack