Journal of a Living Lady #163
Nancy White Kelly
The strangest things happen to me. Our son, Charlie, and
fiancé, Tori, are getting married next month. Tori’s mother requested our guest
list for wedding invitations. Between chemotherapy treatments, I managed to
pull together a list of close friends and relatives. There will be a general
invitation going out to our church family and a couple of other small group
“Ya’ll comes.” Since the wedding will be in middle Georgia, I suspect not too many will make the long
trip from the mountains. However, I am an inclusive person and would never
leave out anybody who wanted to attend. Tori’s parents understand that and are
adding extra water to the wedding soup for the reception. Both families are
making calculated guesses as to how many will actually attend.
When Buddy and I married, our parents didn’t do too well in
the guest estimation department. My Aunt Anne catered our wedding reception. In
a panic, she sent friends to the grocery store for extra ginger ale and sherbet
after hearing that the police department had taken upon themselves to direct
traffic in front of the church. Secluded in the bridal dressing room, I had no
idea there was the semblance of a crowd arriving. I was so numb that I barely
remember anything, but I do recall hoping that somebody had come to the
wedding. I have thought of that day many times since when my confidence has
waned.
Friends are the binding cement of a good life. I came to know the Clevelands through the
Internet. Bob and his wife, Peg,
traveled from Alabama to visit me while in the hospital some time ago.
They had been reading my columns on the web site and wanted to meet me in
person. Later, Bob wrote a personalized poem which was read at the infamous,
pre-funeral, family reunion held at Brasstown Resort, compliments of the Making
Memories Organization.
Bob and I have corresponded ever since. His wife is also a
breast cancer survivor. Buddy and I welcomed them to our home last year while they were on
vacation. Though the Clevelands didn’t
get to meet Charlie who was then away at college, Bob sent me an email last
week asking if he and Peg were invited to the wedding. I was thrilled that they
wanted to come and sent the following truncated response:
“You are invited to the wedding.” I followed with a
paraphrase of the real invitation, “The parents of Tori Danielle Hooks and
Charles Edward Kelly, invite you to celebrate the marriage of their children…” along with all the accompanying
details…”June 29th, 3:00 p.m. at Southside Baptist Church in Warner
Robins, Georgia. Reception immediately following at….”
As is the nature of the roguish Internet, this particular
email went astray and apparently was delivered to several hundred people.
Perhaps thousands. Maybe millions. I
received some interesting responses, including
a terse, “Thanks, but I won’t be there.”
I have not been able to trace exactly how the email response
went astray, but a particularly nasty cyberspace virus is suspect. I replied to most of the unintended
recipients who had graciously notified me of the error. It seems that several
of those who did respond attended Southside High School in Memphis, my alma
mater. It appears that the Internet server intercepted, among others, email
addresses from a member of Classmates who had previously sent out an email
notice of condominiums for rent in Florida.
As a result I have caught up with some old friends who are
now retired. I haven’t seen any of them since high school graduation. One
former classmate wrote: “This must be a God thing, Nancy, our connecting like
this. I still remember telling on you on in the seventh grade, not realizing
that I was getting you in trouble. (I
forget the teacher's name.) I thought he had a better sense of humor. Anyway, if for no other reason than
this, I am thankful that I at last have
an opportunity to tell you that I am sorry for being such a nerd!”
I did remember the incident, but wasn’t aware that she was
the informant. It didn’t matter. I hold no grudges. No doubt some of my early
teachers, and many of my former peers, would not believe that this mischievous
class jester grew up to be a semi-responsible adult.
nancyk@alltel.net http:/www.angelfire.com/bc/nancykelly
