The Savannah Drafts...

I've been in Savannah since Sunday night with my family. As you read, my mom's husband passed away, and I've been helping out with arrangements and stuff like proofreading and rewriting obituaries, cleaning out the garage, playing with kids, and just serving as general interference for the crazy that accompanies funerals. Lots of stuff has happened, but I havent had the time or energy to write about it all. Well, I started a few, but never finished them. Here are a few incomplete posts from this week.

Going Green... (Tuesday)

Savannah is crazy for St Patrick's Day. I think they have the worlds second biggest parade after New York. Every thing is green here: Green beer, green grits, green water in the fountains, hideous green blazers on the news anchors. Even the local newspaper went green. As in it was printed on green paper. If I hear one more thing about a leprachaun or pinches for not wearing green, I'm gonna lose it... (That's as far as I got. I was gonna tell a story about how I used to pick peoples pockets at the St Patrick's Day Parade or how when I was 8 I found out I had some Irish in me, so I had a Shamrock pinned on my jacket.)

The Savannah High Doppelganger (Wednesday)

Remember a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about how I have a twin in Atlanta, that people seem to know, but can't remember his name. Well, apparently I have one in Savannah as well. I went to get my haircut today, and deliberately went to a shop that I've never been too. I wasn't in the mood for a reminiscing session. Anyway, as I'm sitting in the chair, one of the barbers asks me: "Did you go to THE High?" (THE High = Savannah High School.) I didn't, and I informed him that I didn't. You know the next question out of his mouth... "Are you sure?" I didn't even say anything. Then he remembers more about this person he thought I was. "Yeah, you kin to that cop that comes in the shop." No, that's not me. I don't have any police in my family. I think I would know what high school I went to, and if one of my relatives was 5-0. (That's as far as I got...)

You Know What I Don't Care About??? (Wednesday)

...your church. I don't care that you want to talk at the funeral, but have to clear it with your pastor first. Just do it. I'm not gonna make any donations, just to get you on the program. If you feel like you have something to add, then do it, but don't try to extort any loot. That's not only distasteful, its revealing that you have an overly inflated sense of worth. One monkey don't stop no show. Be out for all I care... Also, I'm not gonna mention the name of church next to your name on the program. Let's do that at your funeral. When you die, we'll shout out the name of church. Why do you think that is part of your title. Like Pastor Jenkins ain't enough, I got to call you Pastor Jenkins of the Mount Ebeneezer African Baptist Church of God and Jesus in Calvary... (Then I stopped because I was getting worked up and was about to be ugly to the church going folk.)

Thanks, No Hugs Please (Thursday)

Yo, one of the worst things about funerals is all the hugging. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind my mom and my grandma hugging me, but all these extraneous people that I don't know trying to embrace me??? You can have that. I'm just not one for strangers and virtual strangers touching me. (You know what.. I think I'll finish this one. I have some funny sarcastic comments and stories to tell on this one...)