Friday, November 16, 2012

No good deed goes unpunished

I collect jewelry and one the types is gutta percha. It is commonly mourning jewelry from the Victorian era made of early resin. I read something recently that reminded me of a lovely gutta percha brooch I gave my mother for Christmas one year. This was before she became a born again Jew and stopped celebrating pagan holidays. Anyway I called to ask her if she had kept the brooch.

Well, she was not at home as she was running the kitchen for the bingo game in her neighborhood. Mr. RV answered the phone and wanted to talk so I listened for quite a while. No skin off my nose and he seemed to want to talk to someone new. Today is a big day for them, he is going into the hospital for a real crappy test so I said don't worry about me, tell mom to call me this weekend.

Mom called anyway. We chatted about the brooch, yes she has it. Then the line went dead. I did not think much about, it happens once in a while. There is something wrong and we never have figured out the problem. I locked up and went on to bed. Big Daddy was in Chicago so just me and Sammy home alone.

I awakened suddenly to a loud knocking on my front door. I am terrified, who is knocking on my door at 9 pm. I went into the living room and there is a man staring into my house, he is standing on the front porch. He sees me and then shines a flashlight onto his police badge. I have to go turn off the alarm and I opened the door to this nice policeman who knows my name (probably from last time) and he asks if I am okay. You see, my mother called the police to tell them my phone quit working and told them to come to my house and see if I am okay. Yep, mom called the cops.

I called my mom and explained to her about calling on my mobile phone if she was worried. For some reason she lost the number. Though it might not have mattered, remember when she called the land line and screamed to answer (thinking it was the cell phone) when she was lost in New Orleans?

At least the police did not break the glass out this time.

There is no read more, I hit that button wondering what it would do and I can't get rid of it.


  1. This reminds me of the term "Yiddisha Mama", although I'm not sure whether it applies to born again Jews like your mother. Actually, I'm not quite sure what it means. Very good of the police to put her mind at rest!

  2. Only in Grosse Pointe do the police have nothing better to do than deliver messages from mama.