Dear Mom,
I’ve learned so many things from you over the years about being prepared for all sorts of events occuring while out in the world: whether it be bringing a light sweater with me to all places in the summer in case the air conditioning is too cold, or knowing to bring business cards to an event at your work where there might be someone who could become a client, or making sure to pack all the right things in the cooler while heading out for a weekend at the lake. But none of those lessons are more valuable than your constant belief in the power of the tissue – and how every single pocket of every single outfit you’ve ever owned is stuffed with kleenex. Kris and I used to laugh at this until we needed a tissue when we had a cold or in a moment of sadness when we might need to use it to blot a tear. But, we still couldn’t help ourselves by making fun of this habit of yours and always asking if the tissue was clean, to which we always received the same answer: Of course it is! This usually was accompanied by your famous ‘look’ that says much more than words could ever express. How dare we even ask if it was a snotty dirty tissue. Rude!
However, the reason I’m writing you today is not to discuss the cleanliness of your tissues, your love for stocking up on kleenex and your preference of them over Puffs or any other brand of the special ‘facial tissue,’ I bring it up today because I had the need for a tissue and what I’ve learned from your habits over the years saved me.
It happened at Cedar Point this weekend. Yes, I went on a whole bunch of rollercoasters, tried to relive my childhood and just had a grand old time of having the crap scared out of me on these super-fast rides. Yet, I digress.
There was a group of six that met there – James, Adam, Jen and I from here and Gina and Julie from Detroit. We arrived to pouring rain but after the journey to get to ‘the Point’ there was no turning back and we piled on our raincoats and put up our hoods and went directly to the nearest bathroom. Since this was when the park opened at noon, we were lucky to discover toilet paper. The rain stopped after a while and we didn’t need to do too much stopping to dry off, but I did start stockpiling paper just in case. Later in the day, on visit 8 to the bathroom as it was 10pm at night , it was going to be a struggle to find a stall that looked even slightly clean and more importantly had a healthy supply (or any) toilet paper.
I thought to myself about the option of ‘dripping dry’ as I am no good in waiting in lines for the bathroom, even though I easily waited in line for the Magnum for one hour! Ironic, yes? Important to the story, no.
But alas, during one of our many meals during the day in the park, I had stocked up on tissues and napkins (really the same – both bad quality and thin) and didn’t have to wait or choose a dripping option. Mom to the rescue, in the form of my thoroughly stocked bag of tissues. On a side note, James at one point made fun of me saying I had a funny looking bag, but on yet another thing I learned from you, pack what you need and leave space on an adventure like Cedar Point, and be comfortable in what you are carrying. Plus, my bag is from Red River and my trip with Lairy and Carol last July 4th (2007) and that always holds happy memories for me so I’m using it whenever I can!
Again, I digress.
But tissues didn’t just make their appearance recently in my bag at Cedar Point. Unfortunately, in going through your clothes, trying to give them away to friends and family who need them and trying to figure out what you would want me to do with all of your beautiful objects, while trying not to cry because of how much I miss you, I have come across a mountain of Kleenex. Really, I should be getting some sort of award from them for the family that had the most ‘pockets full of Kleenex, ever’ in one home. Pocket by pocket I’ve gone through and made a pile of tissues and know that you loved always being prepared for whenever the need for one of those babies became apparent.
I’ve gone through a box during your two visitations and your services in Cleveland and even more while in Gibsonburg, where we said goodbye to you yet again in a service in the church where you grew up. I even noticed that even though we all knew we needed the tissues, I somehow was the only one who remembered to bring the little pocket packs, that went to Wendy and Anna immediately, along with being shared among the rest of the family. I know you don’t want us to be sad and cry for you, but I can tell you this: Too bad. At that time and now we miss you and we will always miss you. There is going to be crying, and, thanks to what I’ve found in your pockets over the last to months, I’m stocked up on tissue!
I love you,
Mary
