At White
Mountain Community College in Berlin, the stories were like grapes on the vine
– ripe for picking. Thanks to many of my old friends, who I met while
working on the Telling Our Stories Project in 2007-8, for coming out on a cold
drizzly night.
Here’s a story of Yankee practicality and sense of mortality:
Mother was 94 when she died. Several years earlier, in 1999, she was in her rocking chair on a sunny afternoon. She announced, “I’m gong to die this year.”
“Mother! Why would you say that?”
“I have to, the 19 is already engraved on my stone.”
In fact,
Mother lived until 2005. The 19 was smoothed away and the 20 put in its
place. So Mother needn’t have worried.
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