Cardboard and Mom

It's a huge joke in our family about mom and cardboard.  If mom has cardboard, she could build a house with it, make furniture, level a table, the possibilities are endless. "Don't throw that box away!  Mom might need it to build a city!" Cardboard and contact paper are like flour and sugar, the stables in life for Minnie Anderson.

When she moved into her new apartment a few years back, she proudly showed me the shelves she had made out of cardboard.  What was intended to be a broom cabinet, was now a tall, narrow cabinet with three cardboard shelves.  Lovely!  I tried to act appropriately impressed.  I should be impressed, I really should be.

Mom made my Barbie Doll furniture out of cardboard, covered with contact paper, and I was quite happy with the results.  It was like going to Goodwill and finding rich people furniture at poor people prices. It never bothered me to have cardboard furniture for my dolls.  If it bothered my dolls, I never heard them complain.

After Mom and I met with a representative from French's Mortuary to rearrange her pre-arranged funeral, I realized mom was going to be cremated in a cardboard box.  I was at mom's house later in the day, and when Aunt Mary came over for coffee and a visit, I had to tell them how ironic and amusing it was to realize that mom was going to be cremated in a cardboard box.  The three of us got a good laugh out of it.

You might think it odd, or at least disrespectful to laugh about something so serious, but it's not.  When mom and I were shown the options of caskets used for cremation, I made sure to get her input in what she would prefer.  Neither one of us could see the need to pay thousands of dollars for a casket that would be burned.  Since there won't be a public viewing, no need to spend the money to impress people.

Having said that, I still could not go with the genuine cardboard casket.  It looks like a long cardboard shipping box, and I just couldn't do that.  What if Fed-Ex or UPS came to pick up a package, and they mistakenly took mom along with them?  Who knows where she would end up!  We decided on a spiffed up version of the shipping box.  It's shaped like a casket, and here's the best part.  It's covered with contact paper with a wood grain pattern.

On the way home, we were going over all that we had decided on.  I asked mom if she was really okay with the choice of casket.  "Oh sure.  I would have just gone with that plain cardboard box.  It's only going to burn anyway."

The representative was talking to us in a very professional way, soft voice, etc.  He showed us several "urns" for the remains.  Again, mom and I both said, "Why spend several hundred dollars on an urn that will be buried?"  He told us that some people like to have the urns with their loved ones remains on the fire place mantel, or place of honor on a bookcase.  I looked him right in the eye, and in a very sure way, and a high pitched voice said, "I'm not having any dead person perched on my mantel!  Number 1, I don't have a mantel, and number two, she's not going to be perched on any of my bookcases.  She's got a perfectly good burial plot at Sunset Memorial, she can rest in peace there."  In his most professional way, and in his soft voice, he said, "That is certainly understandable." Poor guy.  I'm sure he felt like Stephanie Plum and Grandma Mozar had escaped a Janet Evanovich book, and landed in his office.  Mom just laughed and said she didn't care what I did with her ashes.  I said, "Well, we know for sure where they won't be!"

As we were leaving his office, and he was softly reassuring us that the best of care would be given when their services were needed, Mom turned to him and asked, "Would you mind if I straighten that picture on the wall?  It's been bothering me the entire time we've been talking."  Yep, she'll be fine in the cardboard box, decorated with wood grain contact paper.  I love my mom!

Poorly Rich

I often find myself wishing for things that will never be, like me being rich.  I know, money is the root of all evil, but I feel evil towards the lack of no money.  It's not that I want great and magnificent things.  Just a little extra cushion in the bank account would make me feel rich, rich, rich.

It's times like yesterday when Shana had a hard day, had to replace a tire, was told another tire needed to be replaced, that I wish I was rich, rich, rich.  It's times like today when I got the bright idea to clean the windows, and one broke.  How?  I have no idea. It just popped while I was holding it in my hand.  If I were rich, rich, rich, I would replace all these dirty, leaky, breakable windows in this house that we call home.

I remembered I had a mini blind in the closet, so I could replace the broken one in the den.  That's what started all of this. If you are going to replace the mini blind, then you need to clean the window.  I should just sit and stare out the dirty windows all day, and not start projects that frustrate and make me feel poor.

I know I'm rich in other ways, and I appreciate all that richness.  Still.....there are seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years......that a little bit of extra would go a long way.  Like buying a plane ticket for Sarah so she can come home for Thanksgiving.

THE END