ELDER DAUGHTER AND THE BIG BLACK LIMO

It was back in the mid-1980’s – back when we were living in Atlanta the first time around – that Elder Daughter learned of the existence of Limousines.

One of her regular babysitters had turned sixteen, and the happy teen’s parents celebrated the occasion by hiring a limo to haul her and her friends around town. Overkill? Perhaps...but it made a deep impression on Elder Daughter. She became obsessed with the idea of riding in a limousine.

Maybe “obsessed” is too strong a word. Regardless, she made it known, right then and there, that that’s what she wanted for her birthday on that far-off, distant day in 1995 when she would turn Sweet Sixteen. And, like the good Parental Units we were, we stuck the request in that mental file where we put all the other Items That Do Not Need To Be Acted Upon For An Exceedingly Long Time. Things like “make a will,” or “schedule a colonoscopy.” [That latter item, I should point out, was a loooong way off at the time.]

Time passed, and we moved away from Atlanta, settling in Connecticut thanks to a transfer at the heavy-handed whim of the Great Corporate Salt Mine.

Then, in early 1988, my mother died.

A silent killer struck her down: chronic active hepatitis, the same condition that affected country singer Naomi Judd some years back. At the time, nobody could identify the specific viral agent – nowadays, it would probably be ascribed to Type C – but no matter. Somehow, possibly through extensive periodontal work, the hepatitis virus had crept in several years prior and had begun its quiet, undetected work, destroying liver cells. In late 1987, when Mom noticed her abdomen filling up with fluid, most of the damage had already been done. Cirrhosis, followed by kidney failure, carried her off a scant four months later.

And the family gathered at Dad’s house on Long Island – alas, no longer “Mom and Dad’s house” – to get ready for the ride to the funeral home.

At the appointed time, the limos showed up, and as we trudged out the door, the realization struck Elder Daughter that she was actually going to ride in one of those big, black, shiny cars. Her eyes grew wide, and she was practically ready to burst with excitement! and anticipation!!!...until that little light bulb flashed on over her head and she remembered just why she was going to be riding in that limo.

Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Ohhhh...shit.

Gawd save us, but SWMBO and I nearly laughed out loud despite our otherwise gloomy mood. The irony of it! The long-awaited limo ride...was to Grandma’s funeral! How perverse was that?

I am pleased to report that Elder Daughter eventually did get her Sweet Sixteen limo ride - a happier occasion seven years farther down the road. Meanwhile, we still think back on that day in Spring 1988 – a day fraught with terrible memories, but with one bright flash of humor, a gift of the human ability to be distracted by the desires of the heart.