Darn near every Sunday when I was a Smallfella I had the honor of accompanying my Mother to the Quality Flower Shoppe to buy flowers and then to the Cemetery to put those freshly bought fresh flowers on the growing number of graves that contained the growing number of our deceased relatives.
You can rest assured that I did not consider it an honor at the time.
There is no telling what my Mother could have been doing with her time, if she did not have to perform this time-honored family ritual.
If plastic flowers had already been invented, she and I could have made a single trip per deceased relative to the Quality Plastic Flower Shoppe, bought a bunch of permanent plastic beauties, gone and deposited them at the newest deceased relative’s grave and then gotten on with our lives.
I don’t mean we would have forgotten about the prior deceased relatives. I’m sure we would have glanced at the prior dearly beloved’s graves and their dusty but still beautiful (from a distance) flowers as we made our way to and from the newest deceased relative’s tomb.
Ah yes, it makes my aging heart jump with joy to picture my Mother on the family couch tweeting all Sunday afternoon. Now there is a worthwhile way to spend a Sunday if I ever heard of one.
Would I kid u?
Smartfella
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