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Cheryl Hughes: Friendliness

On Saturday, October 1st, my sister, Lorrie, and I took my stepmom to the Apple Festival in Paintsville, Kentucky.  Mom will be 90 years old on October 15th, and she still gets around pretty good with her cane on even ground.  The ground at the festival was anything but even, however, so we decided to rent a wheelchair for the day. 

When we arrived at the festival, Mom balked at the idea of being pushed around in a wheelchair.  “I think I will do better walking,” she protested.

“Mom, you will do better in this wheelchair,” Lorrie said.

“I will get run over,” Mom said.

Mom has a touch of dementia and a very strong will.  Lorrie is a lawyer and has a very strong will, as well.  I just stood back and waited for a resolution.  The smart money was on Lorrie.  I shudder to think how it would be to go up against her at trial.  In the end, Lorrie ended things with a firm, “Sit down, Mom!” and we were on our way, but Mom was not happy.  I started pushing the wheelchair down the sidewalk as Mom gave me instructions not to roll her out into traffic and not to dump her out onto the sidewalk.  

We went through the first tent of crafts with Mom telling every vendor that she was perfectly capable of walking, but her daughters insisted she be pushed along in a wheelchair.  As we moved on down the street, we met another woman in a wheelchair.  She smiled and waved to Mom, and Lorrie said, “See Mom, she’s in a wheelchair and she’s happy.”  Mom didn’t say anything.

The next tent was huge, width wise and length wise.  There were lots of wood crafts set up on the tables, and Lorrie stopped at one that sold Lazy Susans.  Mom and continued on down the way, and I stopped at a table with wooden hummingbird houses. 

“Those are just beautiful!” I told the vendor.  “My mom and I both love wood.  My dad ran a sawmill, and she worked right beside him till they retired.”

“I can walk,” Mom said, “but my daughters made me ride in this wheelchair.”

“I’ve run a sawmill, and my wife here was my offbearer,” the man said.  “If you did sawmill work all your life, you deserve to be pushed around in a wheelchair.  Just enjoy it!”

We all laughed, and suddenly, you couldn’t shut Mom up.  She talked about how she had been right beside Dad, turning posts, and how they had gone to the woods together and pulled out logs with a team of mules.  They swapped stories for at least 30 minutes.  

That one exchange with the birdhouse couple caused Mom’s whole attitude to change.  I could’ve kissed the guy and his wife too.  As we continued on through the tent, she smiled and waved at people.  She saw a ceramic pig, wearing a blue bow on its head.  “I really like that pig,” she said.

“Then you’re going to have that pig,” I said.  The vendor wrapped it in newspaper, put it into a bag, and we rolled on.  

We stopped at a table where a man and his wife were putting pictures on lockets with chains.  Natalie had just sent me the best picture of my granddaughter, Sabria, so I sent the picture to the man and ordered a necklace for Mom.  He told me to come back in two hours for the finished product.  Lorrie had caught up with us by that time, and we decided it was time for lunch.

We got barbeque chicken sandwiches at the Pig in a Poke food truck, then took them to a picnic area near the river that runs through Paintsville, a fork of the Big Sandy.

After lunch, we went through a few more areas then returned to the tent for my necklace.  Lorrie took Mom to the table where she bought her Lazy Susan, because that man also ran a sawmill, and they talked while I picked up Mom’s necklace.  By the time I caught up with them, the man was wrapping up a wooden pepper mill (all metal gears) for Mom, and we were all ready to call it a day, but not before buying two giant bags of kettle corn.

When we got back to Lorrie’s house, I put the necklace around Mom’s neck. When Lorrie’s husband, Charles, came home, Mom showed him the necklace.  “This is my great granddaughter,” she said, “Isn’t she beautiful!”  That made me so happy.

“Didn’t we have the best day!” Mom said to Lorrie and me.

Never underestimate the power of a smile and a friendly word.

 

 

 

 
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