Disclaimer: This blog is in no way meant to offend anyone, it is just reality as I, Ira Mae Busybody perceives life, and my personal opinion. Places, names and faces have been changed to protect the cantankerous, mean spirited, nosey, bitchy and innocent.
Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…
Hello Bloggers and Followers,
Thanksgiving Day, USA, my thoughts mellowed a bit allowing you to see into a smidgen of the life of my friend Mr. Roy, our first meeting, how we made the holiday special for each other in our instant friendship. I would not be true to myself had I not laced it with a dash of humor which involved the Manor’s “chicken house conversations” and the shock of most of the ladies by taking Mr. Roy to my apartment for a goodnight shot of “Jack”.
This action added further complications to the Warden and Mouth’s circle of gossipers, as they now had to add into the mix that I may “like” men!
This misconception came into play at God’s waiting room, as I like to call it; the metaphor for the name came about when the “Over 55” housing suddenly filled with “Over 85”, most nursing home situations from all over the tri-county area. With Rosemary Wilson’s inability to fill the apartments she begin to advertise the Manor as an alternative to assistant living or nursing home accommodations with the tenants needs being met by an outside nursing care agency from Clinton. The Manor filled fast with only a few who were independent and I (still trying to figure out why I am there).
However, that piece of information needed revealing before I continue with the ongoing mystery of; is Ira Mae a “Lesbian” or is she “straight”? Moreover, that gives you the answer to their shock when Mr. Roy and I proceeded to my apartment.
Only weeks, after I had moved into the Manor, all the while trying to remain detached from the gossip, coffee klatches and eat-ins, I did make every effort to be friendly to everyone when I would pass them in the hallway. I lady I will call, Faith (changed to protect her as she is one of the innocent ones) and a very nice one, a loner like myself said her neighbor whom I renamed inside my head, “Smelly Bob”, was in the Clinton Hospital with a leg problem that may put him in a wheelchair.
Since I went into Clinton three days a week to the a fitness center, she ask if I might be willing to stop by and say hello, apparently Smelly Bob, seventy years old had no nearby friends, his children lived several states away and he was alone. I said that I would the following day.
Wednesday of that week I stopped by the hospital on my way to the gym, I failed to ask Faith his last name and I did not think it appropriate to go to the information booth and ask if they could give me the room number of Smelly Bob! I described him, where he was from and his condition, apparently they knew Smelly Bob.
When I walked into the room, he was in a lounge chair, hospital gown and blanket over his lap. I reminded him of my living in the Manor; he smiled and acknowledged me as a tenant. I went over and looked out the window making a comment on the view he had of a small lake. When I turned around the blanket was lying on the floor, bandaged legs exposed, gown pulled up to his hips, the view…pitiful! I quickly excused myself saying I was late to a gym class and I had promised Faith I would stop by, wishing him well, I bolted from the room. Not a pretty sight.
One week later, the Warden and Mouth came to my door saying that the gathering room was “a buzz” as they called it, with my whirlwind romance with Smelly Bob. Keeping a straight face, I told them that I would meet them all in a few minutes and share everything! They rushed away no doubt anticipating more gossip to spread.
When I got there the room filled with several old women and one man, I stood before them as if I was conducting a management seminar, which I had done often in my working days. The one man said that Smelly Bob had approached him saying that I had drove all the way to Clinton just to see him, confessed that I had a crush on him (god…old fools) and when he was dismissed from the hospital that we went to lunch, to a local motel and burned up the sheets. Now, I would definitely have burned those sheets!
At that point, to try explaining that Smelly Bob was lying and that I had no interest in him would have not been believed. Instead I stood feet planted firmly on the floor, raised my hands in the air and said, “My fellow Manor tenants or inmates as I like to call you…since I am certain that each of you have already formed your own opinion let me say this, when spreading this gossip ask yourself this question, are you assuming that I like men? Mouths fell open, and I walked out of a very quiet room.
This brings me back to Thanksgiving with Mr. Roy, I am certain that I have them totally confused as to my sexual preference. But, when I walked to the elevator going back to my apartment I heard Mouth say, “Well, do you think she’s “Bi”, we don’t like people who are not straight”, the silence broke and the clucking begin. Old people and most are younger than I am, you gotta love them!
Well, dear bloggers and followers, I must close the shutters on today’s. Writing… until tomorrow, remember a shot of “Jack” a day will keep the doctor away, and if you are a senior citizen just keep telling yourself… breathe damn’it.
Ira Mae Busybody
Crawfish Creek Manor
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