Stories. I love stories. I love reading. I read fiction,non-fiction,spiritual,historical fiction,romance,mysteries and so on. I love to sit at a table and listen to a group of people tell stories. I will drill you. In the end, I just like a good story.
Recently, I had the pleasure of listening to a lot of stories. At a funeral luncheon. I know, imagine that? Oh, and let me back up just a tad bit. I am sure we made for quite a story ourselves. Leave it to my husband. Why oh why do I trust him? Our neighbor’s mother died. Our neighbor, Andrew,texted my husband, “Hey, my mom passed away we are having a luncheon at her Assisted Living residence you guys are invited, you don’t have to RSVP just show up if you can?” I asked my husband all the pertinent questions. “When did his mom die? When is the funeral?” His response, “I don’t know!” I continued, “Do you know his mom’s name and should we send flowers?” My husband responded and with agitation in his voice? “I have no clue, I didn’t text him back or ask any questions. He just said show up, I don’t think it is a big deal, just a little luncheon at the Nursing Home.” I said, “OK”
We went dressed for a casual Saturday summer luncheon. I know, s.t.u.p.i.d. I could have killed my husband. K.i.l.l.e.d. The luncheon took place after the funeral. Guess how everyone else was dressed? Yep, black,suits,heels,dresses and there were flowers. I believe I whispered, “I hate you!” as we walked towards Andrew who greeted us appropriately then he proceeded to introduce us to everyone. Andrew couldn’t have been more gracious.
We quickly sat at the ‘neighbor table’ which also included a lovely older couple from a neighboring suburb. Once sitting everything was fine. The stories began flowing. Oh, and not one person had their phone out. It was refreshing. But, make no mistake social media did come up. The oldest gentleman,Grandpa Jones, at the table informed us that, yes indeed, he has a Facebook page. He loves it!! Grandpa Jones uses it to talk to his grandchildren. He showed us the photo he has posted, it is a photo from 1950! Nice and handsome 
Oh, this guy was full of stories. His wife just smiled and rolled her eyes.
So Grandpa Jones and his wife were getting ready to leave and he decided he would tell me and my husband one more story before heading out the door. He grabbed my arm and said, “You know, you’ll like this story, you’re a nice Italian girl, right? Especially with that name?” I shook my head yes and then said, “Well, I married the name and he (pointing to my husband) is really Italian, his parents are ‘off the boat’” Grandpa Jones looked at my husband,smiled and said, “So you married a nice Italian girl?” I am 46 years old, it has been a day and forever since I have been called “a nice Italian Girl” but I wasn’t going to stop him. My husband smiled his wide grin, shook his head yes while letting the older man continue on with his story. “Well, you two will like this. You see this Medal? He held out the Medal of St.Christopher we got this while traveling Europe. Can you believe he is no longer a Saint? Can you believe that?” I shook my head no and told him my mother loves her St.Anthony medal. Now he trusted I was a GOOD ITALIAN CATHOLIC GIRL, so he continued. “Well, we went to the House of Virgin in Turkey.” (I must admit I don’t keep track of all the sitings of Mary, even though it is a Catholic thingy. I think the House of Virgin is where Mary lived at some point and it has healing powers?) Grandpa Jones is forging on, “While we were there we got the blessed holy water and we were bringing it back for our granddaughter’s baptism.” My husband and I did all the proper oohing and ahhing. We do know how to behave as Catholics. His wife seeing how impressed we were jumped in and said, “Yeah, but he drank the BLESSED HOLY WATER on the plane.” BIG EYE ROLL as she said it. You know, like, ‘What an idiot, so don’t be so darn impressed!’ We were both a little stunned and not sure if we were suppose to laugh. Grandpa Jones confirmed his wife’s statement, “Yeah, the container looked like a normal container and oh well, it was probably good for me, I am still here.” His wife rolled her eyes and at that point we laughed.
Ah, see how Grandpa Jones turned that boo-boo around? Just like my husband later turned our dressing disaster around, “You know Lou, it was hotter than hell and we were dressed comfortably everyone there was dying to be dressed like us!” Oh, so smooth, just so smooth!
This is why we all need our little hobbies,such as social media,knitting,golfing,etc… to give us space so when I show up at a funeral luncheon dressed in an inappropriate cute summer luncheon outfit I won’t kill my husband or Grandpa Jones’ wife didn’t throw her husband off the plane along with the empty holy water bottle! It is our solo hobbies that keep us sane and our significant others alive!
What do you think?
This post has been inspired by Rory from Time Out For Mom! Join us for Tuesday Coffee Chat! Men, and the Women who blog about Them!
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I completely understand not getting the wardrobe/flowers correct from your husband, (history.) I loved how your tablemates and the son were gracious to you even though your clothes were not typical for a funeral. But, I laughed out loud about Grandpa Jones drinking the holy water! At his age, you are a nice Italian girl ♥
My hubby is also completely clueless about getting details – I just laugh when he says “so and so had her baby” and I ask the appropriate questions (gender, name, weight, height, healthy?) he just says… I dunno… I think it’s part of their make up to be satisfied with the answers they get in social situations…
Love hubby’s perspective on the dress code!
I always see it as the important part is for the person to be there and show support. I do not really care how they dress. I care that they took the time to come. I guess it is just a different way of thinking.
Well, I happen to think you are a nice girl.. period. Italian or otherwise. and wardrobe mishaps aside.
and you have definitely hit on a point I was hoping Left Brain would make — had he written his part: blogging, or rather, the writing aspect of blogging keeps me sane!!! It’s my outlet; creative and otherwise. I don’t feel “quite right” if I have not let the words swirling in my head Out. Writing down the bones is my way of dealing with a lot of Stuff. Then I can talk about.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts on Chat today > you did awesome!!
Loved the stories! I believe everybody has made those “wardrobe” mistakes. Love the way your hubs looked at it and he was probably right.
If it’s something to do with going out. I never trust my husbs. I make sure to find out all the information! MEN!! Ooh gosh I know what you mean!!! But oh was he smooth and I bet they really were hoping they had dressed as you did
So glad Andrew was gracious though.
I’m still laughing at the drinking of the Holy water. I assume it was new and clean and not there for over a thousand years. lol
I love stories.
What a great story! My hubby does the same thing. If you are not looking him in the eye he misses the most important parts.
I totally get the hubby thing I think it’s in the DNA makeup that they are clueless most of the time. I love Grandpa Jones he is an interesting one. Loved this post was lots of fun to read and very enjoyable
Marc never gets dressed…. He would say the exact same thing as your hubby!
Grandpa jones sounds like a hoot!
I think you are so right. I’ll show up some place and feel like I’m overdressed or under-dressed and obsess about it in my mind. Sometimes, half the function has gone by and I have been worrying about something stupid. What matters is you went and were there for your neighbor.
“and not one person had their phone out. It was refreshing.”
Imagine that!
I would have killed your hubby too for showing up under-dressed, even though in the end it was okay.
Also, I <3 the Grandpa Jones story!
I hate to be underdressed too. I was under-dressed for an evening wedding reception. Fine for the daytime wedding but how did everyone have the patience to change for the dinner reception. Argh. Whatevs. We were headed on vacation and I was certainly not going to pack one more pair of shoes and a dress! HUMPH. What a funny story about drinking the holy water. Our husbands are comic relief indeed!
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