There is a lady I know who’s got blue hair and two cats. She’s old and crazy or so they think—until you find a peony in your macaroni and the crazy lady don know want to think. She once saw me put a mitten in with the kittens and jolly good time had we, when with a ferocious pounce a tiger took up the score. We have our little tricks. We have our little giggles. And then sometimes we laugh till our sides hurt.
I met this old lady one day as she guarded the door of the elite corporation. I had come to bid the special services of the king. He had extended his scepter. Yet, lo and behold, this woman bared the way. She did not stick out her foot or hit me with her purse. Yet, the old lady Maxine on her purse leaves fair warning of unpleasant possibilities. The look behind her eye told me something yet deeper stood inside, the funny lady mask. She asked me silly old lady questions while she sized me up, before sending me back to the king. How ingenious, I thought, to dress the terminator in an old lady suit. But it wasn’t them who’d thought of it. It must have been the higher-up guy that did it.
This is to my old lady friend who has been the most loyal friend of mine for the last 6 years. I guess she grew up when they taught you what loyalty was at that school you had to walk to uphill both ways. She’s lasted through thick and thin. And I drink heartily from the wealth of her wisdom of many years hard lived, while the rest of the world is preparing to park her at the nursing home. It’s such a shame. She’s got more sense and more spirit than any young women I know. Yet she keeps praying and working her troubles away. Must be that old lady mask hides a young woman too. She’s more than earned a granddaughter in me. And Amish granddaughters take care of their grandmothers. They make them sit at home and crochet afghans and stitch. Guess she might prefer bridge with the ladies society or using that purse to knock some sense into the stupid people of the world.