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{Straight From the Heart} *Grandma's Last Dance* 12/28/00
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Before we get to today's mail: The wrong email address was listed yesterday for
Patricia A. Kellemeyer. If you enjoyed her poem "Saved by a Gibson" you can contact her at her correct email address of: pkellemeye@aol.com
An extra "r" got stuck on the end of her screen name....
My apologies to Patricia...
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Grandma's Last Dance
By Joni Sralla Turken
As I stood alongside the casket of my grandmother, my eyes locked onto the
dance ticket stapled to the sash of her dress. Others mourners surely caught
sight of the "Admit one" ticket pinned to her dress and wondered just what
kind of sense of humor the Sralla family had. Despite the tears in my eyes, I
had to stifle a giggle at the thought.
Just the day before, I had been at home on my boat at the Fort Myers
Yacht Basin. It was the first rainy morning in months and I was about to
run up to our ship's store for a cup of coffee when the phone rang. Bad news,
my mother said. "It's Grandma." The funeral was scheduled for the following
day, and that evening my husband and I were on a plane leaving rainy Fort
Myers, headed for Texas.
My grandma was not a subtle person. She would grab my brother by the
ponytail and threaten to get the scissors. She wouldn't hesitate to mention
your recent weight gain, to point out that your casserole was salty, or to drill
home the fact that if you didn't hurry up and get married, you were going to be
an old maid for the rest of your life. She hated to see her grandkids and great-grandkids throw out perfectly good clothes, so you might see her wearing a
rock concert shirt and a pair of Converse sneakers with the usual pedal
pushers she donned for years. And even far into her eighties, she still liked
to go to Czech dances and do the polka to the accordion, fighting the other
widows for a chance with the few exhausted men who never got to sit out a
number. And yet still, she never forgot Grandpa. Though he died in 1979, I had
seen her burst into tears at finding a long lost photograph of him.
She was 91 when she passed away and having been sick for several years,
most aspects of her funeral had been decided long ago. One of the few
unknowns left was what she ought to wear. The hastily convened funeral
committee, made up of my parents, aunts and uncles, looked at a variety of
dresses suggested by my oldest cousin Linda, until one of Grandma's favorites
was found. It was a dress that bore witness to her passionate nature, for aside
from the beer spills and perspiration stains that were no doubt hidden in its rich
burgundy folds, there was a ticket to a local dance event stapled to the sash.
Before anyone could tear the ticket off, Linda intervened. "Going to the Czech
dances was something Grandma loved, why not leave the ticket be?" What was
not said was surely a thought in everyone's mind. Had this ticket been from Grandma's last dance?
When we look at a person like my grandmother who lived a long full life, we are
tricked into the belief that we have plenty of time to live out our desires.
Retirement will be the time to finally do the polka, or write a romance novel,
or go to Siam. How many people do you know who dream of building a cabin
up in the woods, who save their pennies for an RV so they can see the country,
or even those who dream of coming to Florida to live on a boat? Everything is
going to work out later, they say. Well, what if later never comes?
Lately, down by the river, this question has come up a lot. Last year, in a matter
of seconds, we lost a young friend from the Yacht Basin to a careless driver.
Joe was in his thirties and one of the most jovial and caring people you'd ever
want to meet. What did he do for his last dance? He volunteered at his church,
he drove a school bus, played in a jazz band. He had recently completed a
college degree that would allow him to teach music to kids and he lived on a
sailboat named after his mother. He affected so many people that his funeral
was standing room only.
One day I noticed a familiar boat for sale at the marina brokerage. It belonged
to a couple we had met in Tarpon Springs, so I asked the boat salesman why
they were selling it. "The husband got bone cancer," he said. "It only took
three weeks and he was gone." Yet still, I pick up boating magazines and I see
Bill's byline. As a former ad man, he was delighted by his new hobby of writing
stories and selling them, and judging from the stories that have appeared even
after his death, I can see he was prolific, and probably tickled pink to
have placed those stories.
Joe and Bill were enjoying lives they chose for themselves even before they
knew their days were numbered. But sometimes, there is warning. Another
friend told me he is living his life in "fast forward." He says he doesn't have time
for naps anymore, there is too much to do. He lives his life in 90 day intervals,
the days between mandatory doctor's visits that tell him if the cancer is still gone,
or if it has spread. In the past 90 days, he flew to the South Seas, he bought a
bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle (in which he's been caught drag racing down
Route 41), he flirted with dozens of women half his age, and he tried a bidet for
the first time. He may live to be 91, or he may not, so he is doing what he
would want to be doing if his last day on earth were approaching. He is, of
course, dancing his last dance.
We all are. The difference is, he's had his wake up call.
I think we all recognize where this is going, so I won't bore the readers with spelling out the moral of the story, I'll just ask you to consider the following question:
What will you be doing for your last dance? This could be it.
Joni Sralla Turken
Jafalyn@aol.com
Send Joni an email and let her know what you thought of her story!
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Joni Sralla Turken lives on a sailboat in Florida with her husband Jeff and dog Jafa. She's been writing since she was a little girl growing up in Texas, but most recently has been published in sailing magazines and local papers. Joni and Jeff (and Jafa) have camped, hiked and RV'ed their way through 49 states and Canada. They plan to visit Hawaii too, just as soon as the bridge is built.
This article was first published in Fort Myers Life Magazine in May 2000.
More articles by Joni Turken
http://www.themestream.com/authors/213444
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REQUESTS:
From: emh67@hotmail.com (Montie Hickey)
I would like to ask prayer for my wife and her family. Her aunt and uncle
left my in-laws house on Christmas night to go home. They live about 40
miles from here. They were involved in an accident. My wife's aunt was
killed and uncle is in critical condition. This has really put a damper on
the holiday's for our family. Please pray for strength for my in-laws.
They have to drive down south to go to the funeral. The weather is bad all
the way, and I would also like to ask prayer for a safe journey for them.
Also my parents are leaving here today to go 500 miles north. Please pray
for a safe journey for them.
Thank you,
Montie Hickey
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Thought For The Day:
"The world is moving so fast these days that the man who says it can't be done
is generally interrupted by someone doing it." - Harry Emerson Fosdick
Verse for the Day:
"For nothing is impossible with God." - Luke 1:37
Kid's Thought For The Day:
"Sometimes you have to take the test before you've finished studying."
Parent's Thought For The Day:
"Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have
never failed to imitate them." - James Baldwin."
Coach's Thought For The Day:
"If you set a goal for yourself and are able to achieve it, you have won your race.
Your goal can be to come in first, to improve your performance, or just finish
the race--it's up to you." -Dave Scott, Triathlete
Deep Thought For The Day:
It's weird when pregnant women feel the baby kicking. They say, "Oh my
goodness. He's kicking. Do you wanna feel it?" I always feel awkward
reaching over there. Come on! It's weird to ask someone to feel your stomach.
I don't do that when I have gas. "Oh my goodness...give me your hand...It won't
be long now..."
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_
/_/\/\ MICHAEL T. POWERS
\_\ / THUNDER27@aol.com
/_/ \ "For I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but
\_\/\ \ Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body I live for the Son
\_\/ of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me." Galatians 2:20
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