Stories From Under A Bootheel (Rants, Laughs, and Tears)

Tribute My Sister

My sister passed away at the young age of 68 after a very full and successful life. I would be remiss if I did not have a complete chapter dedicated to her.

My first memory of my sister was the day I came home from Sunday School with a gold star for something we had done in class. I don't remember what. What I do remember is my sister convinced me my gold star was actually silver and that her silver star was actually gold; so, hers was better than mine. For the next several years I thought the color gold was silver and the color silver was gold. By first grade I learned the truth about the colors and about believing everything my sister told me.

Still, my sister who was four years older was my primary source of information about just about everything. Once a couple of friends of my Father and Mother came over to our house. They had brought their dog who was an exceptionally trained German Shepard that had served with my father's friend while he was in service. Everyone was in the kitchen while I was playing with the dog in the front room. My sister had told me about this wonderful dog as she had seen it when she had been over to their house. She told me she had even ridden on the dog's back. Naturally, I had to try this. I was only about four, but still too heavy for the dog. I still remember the poor dog's yelp as I tried to mount him. Fortunately, the adults came to the rescue before either of us were hurt. The memory still upsets me.

There are many more stories like this including when she taught me the card game "Flim-flam" which I soon learned was a game with ever changing rules that seemed to only benefit my sister. And of course, there was the putting-the-turtle-in-my-mouth incident which I've mentioned elsewhere. You see I always learned from my sister even if it was just to always be skeptical.

Unfortunately and unexpectedly, I got the last laugh. I had to pick out my sister's coffin. My wife and kids were helping. We were having trouble deciding when it occurred to me that we had to choose the silver one. My wife and children who knew the story all smiled. I had to explain to the funeral director I chose that one so that when I died, I could tell my sister I had buried her in gold.

My sister had many dear friends one of whom just passed which prompted another friend of hers to send me a poem she wrote about my sister. This prompted me to add this chapter. The poem was written many years ago. I'm including it here with my sister's last name replaced by "XXXXX" to maintain my Anonymity. So here is the tribute to my sister Ann.

Pat H. wrote this late one night after seeing an interview that a Tennessee reporter had done with Ann about the festivities for President Clinton's first election. It was before e-mail so she faxed the hand-typed copy to the campaign to share with Ann. Pat told me she still misses Ann, especially when it comes to putting together weddings, funerals, and great parties.

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE...

Twas the night before victory and all through the Arkansas House,

every creature was stirring -- no rest for the mouse.

The banners were hung out front with great care,

knowing our President soon would be there!

Meanwhile over in Nashville, Tennessee

I was surfing the channels, as calmly as could be,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear

but the face of Ann XXXXX - who we hold so dear.

She was dressed all in casuals - which I'd recently seen,

and her voice and demeanor were calm and serene.

Reporter, Dennis Ferrier, from our own Channel Four

was quietly explaining Ann's monumental chore......

To throw a GREAT PARTY with friends galore

to welcome home the President and VP Gore.

Ann went straight to her work as the camera rolled on --

(She knew if this continued, she'd be there til dawn!)

Our last glimpse of Ann was from the top of the stairs...

but I know this story doesn't end there.

She encouraged and cajoled and called them by name,

"Now Bobby, Now Henry, Now Andy and Tremayne,

Thanks Becky, and Linda, and Sweet Little Jane -"

From the top of the stairs to those out in the hall,

She smiled at and spoke to volunteers, one and all.

Ann and the "Type A-s" will work through the night

with sound checks and light checks til dawn's early light,

"Where are the potties?", "Who's meeting the plane?",

"Where are the faxes?", "What if it rains?"

So much to do and so little time to do it --

by this time Ann is chanting:

"Don't worry -- we'll get through it!!"

And I know she exclaimed as she finally drove away:

"Thank the Lord, There's just one more day!!!"

Thanks Pat. We are framing this poem to hang in our house.