Lunch with Jeanette

I lived at the top of my old road for twenty eight years. Jeanette lived at the bottom most of her life. She called on the new owner of my old house and told her what to expect, and to be prepared to tell her if the mail has been delivered in the winter. Jeanette has a long lane and cannot see her mail box from her house.

Then Jeanette headed off for my house. The lovely new lady of the old house called and forewarned me. 

I like Jeanette. She's self entertaining; she talks all the time and seldom expects an answer. She had two invitations to lunch sponsored by the middle school (where Laura was just last year), and the person she always takes is feeling poorly, so, of course, "I thought of you right away." And off we went.

Heading to be served our Thanksgiving dinner. The little face over Jeanette's shoulder is leading us to the head of the line. I apologized to the youngster in red shoes for cutting in, and he said, "No, please, you go first."

The string ensemble played, and probably well, but could not be heard over the lunch room din.

My place mat. I considered obliterating the name at the bottom, but on consideration I think the lovely little saying may be one of those ubiquitous Irish proverbs, and is cited as Ireland, County Derry. If some parents with the surname of Derry chose to name a child Ireland, Hooray! I am descended from County Derry.

Jeanette's plate.

My plate. Same as above, without turkey, shredded, and dessert. From six o'clock around, one ice cream scoop of Stove Top stuffing, extra salt. That large, horrid canned corn. One melon scoop of sweet potatoes, extra sugar, oatmeal topping. One spoonful of apple pie filling. One serving of jellied cranberry sauce. One ice cream scoop of instant mashed potatoes, extra salt. I'm still waiting for the salt and preservative induced skull splitting headache to subside. 

We were constantly attended by seventh graders who wondered if the food was good and what did we have for family Thanksgiving. When their shift ended, they disappeared and were replaced by new caretakers. It was all too sweet, and Jeanette had someone to listen to her for an hour.

Jeanette's bumper sticker. She said once she got out of her car and found a perfectly coiffed and well dressed woman reading it. When Jeanette came back to her car, she found a dollar bill under her windshield wiper. It said: "I am rich, but I will help you." Jeanette pulled it out of her purse and showed me.