New Jersey diner

Vonnie with Aunt Marie

     Vonnie, Rose and I drove from Maryland to New Jersey to take Aunt Sister and Aunt Marie out to lunch.  Although their grief at Uncle Flurry's death was close to the surface, both women teased and joked with Vonnie with light,  quick responses that I haven't seen from them in years.   Vonnie has been their rock (as she is so many people's rock) during the years of Uncle Flurry's illnesses.   I expected to see the aunts depending on her, but was surprised and happy to see them having fun with her.

Aunt Sister plays with Mickey, her parakeet

     Both Aunt Sister and Aunt Marie had their gloves, scarves, and purses near the door ready to go when we picked them up.  Aunt Sister also had ready a bag of mysteries to pass on to Marie's daughter-in-law and a big tub of Ice Melt , "Because Marie has all those steps."  We followed Marie's clear and perfect directions to the Allwood Diner.
      I helped Marie up the stairs and through the heavy doors of the diner, and then the audiences began.  The host, the waiters, the busboy, all stopped to talk to Marie and give her their condolences.  As we made our way slowly to the large booth in the corner, an elderly man sitting at a table with a woman in a purple turban asked Marie how she was getting along. "We went to grade school together, " the turbaned woman told me,  "I meet him here every week.  He makes me laugh." They looked like they had settled into their table for hours. At another booth, a woman in her 60s was sitting with her grandson.  Marie knew both the woman and the grandson, and asked about his college studies.

Allwood Diner, Clifton, New Jersey

     The waiters and waitresses at New Jersey diners  could give lessons to casual dining staff across the country. They are  familiar and friendly, but with perfect timing when taking orders or serving or refilling.  None of this "I'm Chad, and I'll be your server today."  They just serve.  Our waiter asked, a little hesitantly, "I don 't mean to be personal, but it looks like you are part of the same family." He took a bad photo of us, and agreed silently to hold the check for Rose and me so that there would be no struggle over it at the end of the meal.
      It took even longer to leave the diner that it did to go in, because Marie had thank-you notes to give to the employees who a gone to Uncle Flurry's funeral.  We took Marie to her house, and then Aunt Sister to hers.  They live 15 minutes apart, but will have trouble seeing each other now, because neither of them drives.

Lookin' good at the diner

     As Vonnie drove the 4 hours back to Maryland   ("I know you're a good driver, but I like to drive.  I've made this trip  many times in the past few months.")  we speculated about what it would be like to  be  old and frail and maybe forgetful and living alone.  How do habits help when you have dementia?  If you make your bed every morning and clean your house every Saturday now, will that help ground you when you feel fuzzy about what  day it is?  And, how is it that we and our friends grew up in families of 6, or 8 or 9 children, and yet there are so few grandchildren?  How will we fare?
     At one point we were counting our blessings.  Our children are thriving, we have good marriages, it looks like we will  all be able to retire.  Then Rose began. "I almost hate to say this.."
From all corners of the car came,
"Don't say it!"
"Don't say it!"
"I won't say it!"
 It is very bad luck, at our ages, to talk about good health.