A Little Ashtray

February twenty eighth marked the three year anniversary of my Mom's death.  I felt she had lived a long life;  since my Dad died at forty six, eighty nine seemed a really decent age, especially for a life-long smoker with dementia.  All in all, I felt accepting about the inevitable and I wasn't sad, not really.

I do wish my kids had known her longer, she was quite a character and they might have benefited from knowing her later in their lives; or not.

As I said, I was fine about it all.  Then my daughter's boyfriend, who was helping her clean up her stuff, brought down three packages of tea and a small glass dish.  I could barely speak and tears welled up (I suspect he thought I was a bit nuts); it was one of my Mom's ashtrays (I think it is actually a coaster, but she used them as ashtrays). She loved smoking.

I could see her sitting in her recliner, cigarette resting next to her blue glass of ice coffee,

head bent over the ubiquitous book.  She read, on average, one book a night.  I wish I had her aptitude for reading; my brother got that trait. I just missed her at that moment of that ashtray's appearance.

My Mom was superstitious, which is so funny for a psychiatrist.  My friend's mother is also superstitious and is amazed that I know so many of these worrisome practices.  Some are just intelligent: Don't walk under a ladder (duh).  Don't open an umbrella in the house (duh) -  I had to onstage once and it gave me such worries.  Don't put a hat on the bed (duh - think about it).

Do not whistle in a dressing room (?) - I have no idea about that one, and the whole black cat thing is just stupid. Saying "bread and butter" if you and  a friend go around opposite sides of a pole or you will have a fight(?).  Getting out the same side of the bed as you got into it (hence the right side rather than the wrong side of the bed (?).  They go on and on; guess who taught me all those.

Some I think she invented, she was very upset when some of our trees started to die, fearing that it was a bad omen. We even brought the stump of a dead tree from our old house to our new one, for good luck (?).  We put the Halloween pumpkin on it for years, until the stump finally disintegrated. Owls were not welcome near our house, she made loud noises to drive them away; in some Native American traditions owls are harbingers of death.  She was an interesting conglomeration of facts and worries. Being well read can have its' pros and cons.

She kept the "Handbook for Poisoners"  next to her cookbooks, which I always found amusing, especially since she was not fond of cooking, though she was a pretty good, if nervous, cook.


Mom introduced me to:

Charles Addams cartoons



and the engravings of Gustave Dore,
 

for which I will always be indebted.



Funny what one little ashtray can do.  I put it in the china cabinet for safe-keeping.