So I'm heading north Saturday and I call my Hoser buddy Wilx and I'm near Dwight, Ill. While I'm talking I get off on the wrong exit.
"You know your mother is laughing at you right now," Wilx says.
You know he is right. She was horrible at directions and always getting lost. One time when we lived in Montreal she took a wrong turn and we were halfway to Toronto before she stopped and got directions to turn around.
So whenever I get lost .... thanks, Mom .... I hear her laugh and it makes me feel better.
So today I'm in GR and go to the cemetery, but there's four inches of snow. I've been here four or five times but not that familiar with the area and I kick around for a few minutes but CAN'T FIND MOM.
At one point I stick my big boot into the ground and it sinks six inches into the soil. Much to my horror I see a big snow-covered pile of sod a few feet away. Great. Looking for mom, digging up a Grand Rapidian instead.
I'm about to give up when I give it one more kick and boom, there's Virginia Coray Hart.
So the moral of the story is .... don't kick your mother when she is in the ground, but do kick the snow off her grave until you find it.