ROSE...A CHANCE MEETING...

The Mrs. & I had just finished grocery shopping this morning at Wal-Mart. She had gone to push the cart back to the corral (we are good citizens of the Wal-Mart), and I was about to get in the car.

I heard a car drive up behind me, and a voice. "Bwwwooooooooyyyyy, don't you git in dat caaaah!" I was startled, and figured I was about to be mugged, and was sure hoping that The Mrs. would get back quick! I wheeled around, and sitting in the passenger seat of a white Ford Focus was an old black woman with a huge smile on her face...but not as big as the smile on mine.

It was Rose. I hadn't seen Rose in a few years, and she was a sight for sore eyes. Rose half-raised me and my brothers and sister. For most of my childhood, Rose worked for my Mom & Grandmother as a housekeeper. Momma hated to leave us kids, (seeing as we were such a joy to be around) but Daddy needed her to help him in his business. So, Rose was almost as much a mother to us kids as Momma was while we were growing up.

The girl that was driving the car pulled in, and Rose got out and gave me a frail-81-year-old-lady hug that sure felt good. Man, the memories...

My older brother made her belly-laugh once when he was about 5. She was ironing and he reached up and licked her right on the arm and began to cry. She asked him why he was bawling so. And he said through his tears, "I thought you'd taste like chocolate!" She laughed and laughed. She got on the phone laughing to call Momma and tell her.

But it wasn't always funny when Rose had to call Momma. More than once it was, "Ms. Anne, if you can't come home, I'm gonna havtu beat dese chirren!" Evidently Momma couldn't come home and gave her the go-ahead. Actually, I was glad because Rose was Momma-lite when it came to spankings.

She was my friend. Actually Momma told Daddy that she couldn't work every day anymore after I cried to go home with Rose when I was about 7. But Rose was with us a couple of days a week after that, and I sure was glad. I could ramble on forever with stories, but they wouldn't mean as much to y'all as they do to me.

Rose is old school. She never asked anybody for anything, and made it on her own. She only went to school for a couple of years (she was from down in the country), but managed to raise a daughter, and buy her own home...on her own, cleaning other people's houses (and spanking loving other people's children).

The last time I saw her was right after Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, and evacuees were all over Shreveport. I was driving her home from the wedding of my niece (she never got a drivers license...always rode the city buses), and she was just selling those "worthless negroes" down the country for sitting around with their hand out. She was preaching in the car about some "worthless negro" she saw on the news complaining about how his FEMA check had run out. She said, "How 'bout you git youseff a jarrrrrrb!" (she always talked to the TV...especially to the Soap Opera villains on her "sturries")

Rose told me & The Mrs. that she had had "cansuh." "Sure 'nuff they had to take my whole breastist off back in May!" But her prognosis is good...no sign of any cansuh now. She said the worst thing was the radiation..."just burnt my chestes all up."

Anyway, we had a good visit, and she was glad to hear how our older boys were doing, and what they were doing. I wish I could tell y'all how much fun we had visiting & hee-hawing, but it was one of those "you had to be there" things.

We visited until she was finished, and we drove away. She's old and frail. I hope I see her again...but I guess I shouldn't rely on chance.