Monday, January 7, 2019

Scott attends the funeral of Carol Rohrer, his bro/law - Poem: Goodbye Carol

Here's Carol Rohrer's obit from the funeral home.

So Scott would have picked up his mother and driven her to the funeral home in NJ.


At a little after 6 a.m. on January 7, 2019, I went downstairs, opened the front door and saw a planet 

shining in the still-dark sky. It was shining for Carol, Carol Rohrer, of that I’m sure. I didn’t know 

her very well. I always looked forward to our holiday get-togethers. Gone were the days when Carol, 

her husband Steve, and the many family members would gather in the den to laugh, share stories, 

check on the dog and cat, and simply have a grand old time.

After a while we’d go outside. Danny would have the grill going. Sometimes the wind blew and 

you’d have to hunker down the paper plates with salt and pepper shakers. My, that food was good. 

Steak, hot dogs, nice and brown, a real summer-day picnic.

Rita’s Water Ice, Watermelon, and something more delicious than anything I’ve ever tasted.

Carol would bring a special plastic carrying case, unaffected by the winds or the falling leaves, or 

Matt jumping on the trampoline. Whatever could it be?

Deviled eggs. Smooth, creamy, melt-in-your-mouth like chocolate pudding. Deviled eggs. Who, at 

the time, realized this was it. The last of Carol’s Deviled Eggs we would ever eat. Or the last of 

Carol Rohrer we’d ever see.

Eighty years old she was. And you can bet that those eggs are dancing around heaven, Carol 

Rohrer’s best deviled eggs, with tiny bits of relish. Shining on that small planet up in the sky. 

I'd been talking earlier today to Ellen Rosenberg - nice of you to call - and we were discussing phone calls. How boring they are bc all we do are talk about ourselves.


We were discussing Ellen's CRPS, I think it's called. View it here.     


I tell Ellen what I feel like eating, me, with my diabetes. But, I say, I don't want Scott to know about it so I've gotta leave before he gets home.... but it's such an ooky day, no greenery, so I'm not gonna leave home.

She tells me to go!

I do, sniffing freedom as I step outside on the front porch.

At the Starbux cafe at the Giant, I buy a small size Peppermint Latte with whipped cream. I cannot stop drinking it, it's so delicious!

I ask Valerie, the barista, if she thinks this is like an ice cream sundae.

She shrugs and says, I spose so.

Then I get a chicken leg and whipped sweet potato. Last night we were watching Kevin Belter ? a Louisiana cooking show and he makes sweet potatoes.

And there they were at our Giant.

Oo-ey, were they ever delicious.

Now it was freezing outside but I sipped on that cold drink all the way to my car.

When Scott got home he came right over and found me upstairs on my computer.

They loved your poem, he said. And asked me how my job was today. That's my volunteer job with the elderly.

First of all, I said, I drove over and found a parking space. That's the worst problem, but there was plenty of room.

Then I said there was a lot of commotion at the place, too many people, moving around of the chairs.

I got thru the Bingo fine. I played with 5 boards for someone who was wasn't feeling good, she has bronchitis and should not have been there.


Missing:  Has anyone seen my remote? 

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