Even the most confident among us have to eventually succumb to death. I could reference so many metal songs on this theme. As I recently became (newly) immersed in Powerslave by again, Iron Maiden. Even its pharoahs pass on, though being sure eternity is theirs.
As they, both now and then, may go way too soon. Good character withstanding.
Read on below this brief …
— But for just a moment, speaking in a lighter tone on a demise of sorts and no disrespect intended, as I was trying to find a way and a space to fit this segment in anyway — what’s bing dadda boom dadda … bow?
That darn small light pole, in sorta the striped colors of Waldo and where he is … more on that and my red and white shirt in a later post … the pole of four feet is now bent over at 45 degrees, and its hard plastic would not save it.
It was well onto the median, several feet, that lies even as parking lots between County Market and Green Mill, and am I spending too much time there, like many do?
Its been in this writing that’s basically a post-post, or you could say in old newspapering terms a brief and as such rather off-topic, in such a mal-shaped position as a post for a few weeks, and before that was laid — or lain, should I say? — completely flat for a couple of months, then propped up again. Somebody must be driving a bit too erratically, and I just saw in a police report, while doing “research” for another post or should I say a piece, that somebody just got flagged with a ticket in the vicinity.
The last bit withstanding, I think Mary would appreciate the humor. As the apparent mishap was very near to her workplace, though she had nothing to do with it. —
Still, Mary was a little lamb. She needed to be. But strong too. Both.
This clerk at Walmart was there as long as I’ve been shopping there, but still against all odds looked youthful, and had a substantial number of typical working years ahead of her. She chiefly manned the photo development shop, back when plastic cannisters of rolled-up film were actually developed. There was no digital. But there now were photos of her, as prints, shown about a bigger than usual card table as soon as you walk in their door.
Then immediately other two store visitors, making three of us total, discussed something that can sometimes be painful and awkward to bring up. Mary suffered from a slew of medical problems, but there was one that stood out, showing itself immediately upon meeting her.
And the other two at the table, especially, said she always kept a smile, although walking a mile. There was joy shown in those pix, such as when tooting a celebratory party horn. As persuasive as an emoji.
Mary had a number of fatty tumors, on her legs mostly, that — can I say it — were almost the size of footballs. Yet Mary was very confident and not lacking self esteem, as was shown by the fact that once in a while she would blow me off and just kept the conversation at hello, sometimes barely that, although when Target called and there were gaps in seeing me, she’d show a lot of glee with me as the target, and I’m sure other regulars. (Or was the occasional brush-off shown not one of confidence, but a partial mask to deal with her very unfair life circumstances, as we all bear such masks, ala The Stranger by Billy Joel?)
As I guess confident myself, I will take the former approach as one of my memories of her, as I consider that well-retained-self-esteem so cool and impressive. (She had very far surpassed Cross-Eyed Mary.) That someone with such medically related, or should I say directly caused, difficulties regarding appearence would not mean she’d just take attention anywhere she could find it. (So in memory, Proud Mary, in a good way, will still keep on …) Thus with that old bugaboo, dealing with body image, so many of us could take a lesson from her.
Taking who you are, and just being who you are.