OWENSBORO

My mother's uncles were in the funeral home business. They owned two mortuaries, I believe, and a cemetery. They had money. Death is expensive. Odder still they used to own the funeral home in Calhoun but sold it to my mom's friend Claire Marie and her husband. Going to Calhoun almost always involved a trip to a funeral home one way or the other. My grandmother had a huge collection of those fans on sticks from the funeral homes. Yeah, it was weird.

The first time I remember going to Owensboro to see Uncle Ham at the mortuary I had that moment, hour, day, of "I'm not going". Mom took it upon herself to explain to me that when she was little and the Glenn's owned the funeral home in Calhoun, Great Grandmother Glenn lived in an apartment above the funeral parlor. Mom used to spend the night there and it wasn't scary.

WHAT? How much creepier could anything be than spending the night in a funeral parlor? That is a frat hazing. My mom, who was afraid of everything in the world, slept in a building with dead people? No way, not going. I told her I would wait in the car.

NO, I had to go in and see Uncle Ham and then we would go to Sister's house to see her and Aunt Eleanor. No. Not going in a building with dead people. I was maybe 4 years old. NO, seen the scary movies. No, no, no, no. Dead people walk and kill you. NO!!!

About an hour later we walked into the funeral home in Owensboro. I shook like a leaf. Uncle Ham thought this was amusing. Uncle Ham, whose real name was Samuel, looked sort of like a ham. He was big and round, had friar Tuck hair and was always pink, like barely sunburned. He adored Dorothy Glenn and always called her Snooks. He sensed my fear and capitalized on it with a well placed "BOO".

He and his wife Eleanor were the elite of the family. They belonged to a country club which was unheard of to me. Aunt Eleanor was a Ballantine. It was like part of her name. "This is Eleanor Glenn, she is a Ballantine". As a young child I thought everyone was saying valentine and I found that weird. When I figured out she was a Ballantine I thought that was weirder. She had the highest arches I have ever seen. Her feet always looked like she was not completely in her shoes. The Ballantine arch, she called it. She was very, very proud of those arches.

We always gathered at Sister's house. Sister was the oldest of the Glenn children. She was a widow and lived in a huge house which later became Ham and Eleanor's. I don't know if they all lived there together but I never saw Ham and Eleanor anywhere else.

Uncle Ham would get me to say words like "rice" and "night" to hear my Texan. He would play croquette with us in their huge yard. He was a teaser. You never knew if he was teasing or being serious. Part of the Owensboro experience was eating mutton from the MoonLite. Mutton, for those who do not know, is lamb. Actually I believe it is sheep technically but barbecued leg of lamb, always referred to as mutton, is amazing. Not at all gamey and tough. I don't know what they do to it but even as a 4 year old I loved it. AND BURGOO. Burgoo is a stew made of everything. Beef, pork, lamb, chicken, any other meat, every single vegetable some seasonings and water. You cook it forever and then just moan with the yumminess of it.

Uncle Ham would say, "You know, Little Snooks, we're havin' nuttin for dinner". And I would say, "no, we are have MUTTON". He would say, "no, not this time, we're having nuttin". This would continue until I would really question if I was going to get the mutton feast.  He was such a sweet and funny man. When I would think of him working with dead people I decided that was why he was so fun. Work must be sad. The back and forth of the "nuttin" and "mutton" was more fun for him than me. And of course it was always there. The feast. Delivered by employees of the MoonLite. Uncle Ham was somebody too.

When I was finally considered an adult by my parents they told me their favorite Uncle Ham story. Mom and Dad married in July, 1945 right at the end of the war. People were marrying everywhere. Men were still going overseas to keep the peace. My dad was one on these men. They had to get married fast. They turned to Uncle Ham to cut through some red tape. He took them to get their blood tests and license in one day, usually a three day process. Blood was drawn to test for STDs prior to a marriage. It was a requirement in many if not all states. Dad was relieved that his bride to be had an Uncle with connections. Mom was 19 and excited about being married.

They got their blood tests and headed to the county office for the license. Uncle Ham was driving. As soon as they were in the car Uncle Ham told them mom had tested positive and could not marry until she had the treatment. He told them it was just a few shots and that mom should be OK by the time dad got back from Japan. Well, Dad was speechless, his virgin bride had what? I don't think Mom even knew what an STD was and when Uncle Ham told her she burst into tears. They got to the license office and Uncle Ham said he was just kidding. REAL FUNNY. Not then. It is now.

I barely remember Sister who was my mom's favorite Aunt. They had a special kinship as Sister had no children. She claimed Darden, as mother called herself as a toddler, very early in mom's life. Sister's house was so cool to me. She had a TYPEWRITER. Wow, I could spend hours punching those keys on paper. I couldn't spell many words but I thought I was amazing to be able to type.

The most amazing thing about Sister's house was the bathroom. We were expected to really behave in front of Sister. It was very important to mom that Sister think her a great mommy. The first time I asked to use the bathroom mom pointed and said "upstairs right there at the top of the stairs".

I walked into the bathroom. The walls were mint green and black tile. The fixtures were all black. The sink, bathtub and toilet. BLACK. I didn't know there was such a thing. I called for mom. She came up stairs. "Can I pee in here?" "Yes, it's the bathroom". "It's black, the potty. I didn't think I should use it". "It's OK".

Really? Cool. Wonder if I could get a bath out of this deal. I stared at those black plumbing fixtures forever. These people must be very special to have a shiny, black toilet that you could actually use! At our house I feel certain a shiny, black toilet would be off limits to all but company.

I have one vivid memory of Sister. One afternoon she finally offered Brother and I a soda. At our house  we called everything a Coke. It was our main source of soda pop. We might have Nehi Orange or Grapette but the question was, "Do you want some coke? Of course. We have Coke, Grapette, Nehi, etc. When Sister asked if I wanted a soda I knew that meant Coke. Yes, please. May I have a coke. Brother too.

She brought us Ginger Ale. I never seen or heard of Ginger Ale but I hated the name. This is NOT coke. Disappointed. I was not going to like Ginger Ale. I took a polite sip fully prepared to make that face that says, yuck, gross, please don't make me drink it. And then I said..."it tastes like mommy's beer".

Silence

More silence.

I looked up and apparently someone had hit Sister between the eyes with an invisible bullet. My brother looked scared. The grandparents were in shock. Uncle Ham was about to split a gut NOT laughing. Mom was WHITE and dad's face said, "uh oh".

I didn't know drinking beer was a secret. No one said, "don't mention the beer". LADIES do not drink BEER or walk with a cigarette, ever. So, I let the cat out of the bag and at the same time announced that I too was familiar with the taste of beer. Mommy's beer. That made her so happy.

I believe I was quiet until after Sister died.