Things Mama Whispers During A Southern Funeral
A Southern Mama is one opinionated creature. Mama has a clear sense of right and wrong, tasteful and tacky, raised right and hooligan. Never is that more evident than when she puts on her black, navy, or chocolate funeral dress and sets off for the church. Everything from the sprays to the preacher's tie selection falls under her scrutiny. And if you happen to be next to her when she pays her respects or takes a seat in Her Pew, well . . . you're gonna hear some stuff. And it goes like this:
"Did you get a program? Go find an usher and get us one."
"Doesn't she look natural?"
"Doesn't that look just like her?"
"I'll bet you anything that's a Kasper suit she's got on. She just loved shopping those Belk sales."
"I hope they remembered to get her some Silk Reflections and spritz on a little Shalimar. She'd just die if she had to walk through the Pearly Gates bare-legged and unscented."
"Wonder why they buried her in her glasses? Surely she doesn't need bifocals now."
"I noticed they're not burying her with her good jewelry. I imagine that oldest daughter has her eye on the diamond watch."
"Why on earth is Mavis Haygood carrying on so? She's barely a third cousin. And she's got no business pushing in to be seated with the family."
"Reckon who did the flowers? That blanket cost every bit of $700."
"They say her son's giving the eulogy, but he's a lawyer so he ought to have sense enough not to ramble all over the place."
"Come help me find our flowers. There better not be any carnations in that arrangement."
"I hate there's only summer colors in season right now. Remember when she had her color palette done back in the 80s? Wouldn't get within a mile o' yellow once she found out she was a Winter."
"I can't believe her mama made it to the funeral. Poor ol' thing—looks like she's got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel."
"Are y'all going to the cemetery?"
"Oh, look who's singing. Get ready for chills when she hits that high note on 'How Great Thou Art.'"
"I'm so glad they had her old preacher come back and do the message. That new one's good enough to salute the children and grandchildren, but he's too fresh out of the seminary to preach the message."
"Please tell me that's not a plastic telephone I see stuck in that gladiola spray—and that I'm not looking at a banner with 'Collect Call From Heaven' written in glitter. Please tell me that.
Can you even imagine a Southern Mama's instructions when Junior is accompanying her to a funeral at the church? Heaven help him if his tie's not straight or he thinks he doesn't need to shave.