Mrs. Spartano is no longer alive. The poor women died in her sleep soon after I moved out and came up here to Our Lady’s. I was allowed to go to her funeral. I wore my good monk’s robe, the one I call my Prom Robe. My comical mother gave me the robe in a strong thick box and called it my trousseau. It's final use will be that of a shroud, just like the suit we kept for Dad to wear in his casket.
The robe is of fine wool and I have seldom had any occasion to wear it. But I suppose it will help me look my best someday when I’m standing around outside the pearly gates waiting for St. Peter to bring the keys.
I don’t remember my short life with Mrs. Spartano to have been all that pleasant, but if the Brothers and I get kicked out of here, I would be happy to go back to such a place. A simple room is all I need. I’ve been without personal possessions now for so long that I would find them a bother. I'd like shelves for books. I would like a car, if I could afford one. Maybe I could get by with a bicycle. However, my balance may no longer be good enough for riding a bike, come to think of it. If I can afford a car I can drive upstate to a shrine I’ve wanted to visit for many years.
I never spent much time thinking about the future, but these days I do. It will not be pleasant to have to live anywhere but here at Our Lady’s. When thoughts of our future eviction come to mind, I feel hurt and resentful. I’d like to take a boat over to Ireland and give those idiotic men a piece of my mind. I’m sure they’d be impressed. They’re not the old guys I remember from almost forty years ago, however. There’s a new breed over there. Maybe they’re MBA’s and they probably have everything figured out. To whose benefit I don’t yet know.
I don’t remember my short life with Mrs. Spartano to have been all that pleasant, but if the Brothers and I get kicked out of here, I would be happy to go back to such a place. A simple room is all I need. I’ve been without personal possessions now for so long that I would find them a bother. I'd like shelves for books. I would like a car, if I could afford one. Maybe I could get by with a bicycle. However, my balance may no longer be good enough for riding a bike, come to think of it. If I can afford a car I can drive upstate to a shrine I’ve wanted to visit for many years.
I never spent much time thinking about the future, but these days I do. It will not be pleasant to have to live anywhere but here at Our Lady’s. When thoughts of our future eviction come to mind, I feel hurt and resentful. I’d like to take a boat over to Ireland and give those idiotic men a piece of my mind. I’m sure they’d be impressed. They’re not the old guys I remember from almost forty years ago, however. There’s a new breed over there. Maybe they’re MBA’s and they probably have everything figured out. To whose benefit I don’t yet know.
Merle Haggard
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