Cackling

It was an “Old Country Buffet” day. All the older women of the church meeting for lunch. This lunch starts at 11:00. They are feisty and laugh loudly, as if telling dirty jokes. We do not arrive until nearer to twelve (my elderly companion and I) and this is what we hear as we enter – the dirty-joke-laughs. The women causing them are not just feisty but gleeful, as if they say, “Here we are…sure of ourselves at last…and no one around to tell us what to do.” Some tables look like “Lonely Hearts Clubs.” Not this long one where the women gather close to the food and cackle.

Two hours later I’m a little frazzled. I am seriously too young for the group. I do not fully cackle just yet. I excuse myself, and walk out into the sun feeling happy to be released from the ice box chill and the noise. I meander down two doors to the pet store and buy two cans of dog food. I meander slowly back.

Like musical chairs the women elders move around. There’s a slightly different configuration when I return, but no movement toward breaking up. A bit later I tap my companion on the shoulder and suggest it might be nearly time to go. I feel cruel, but not so cruel as an 85 year old who keeps threatening a 92 year old with having to walk home because of her sass.

When I get home myself, I’m relieved beyond measure. I pick up my mail and head out to the cabin. One of my Norwegian friends has sent me quotes from Sri Sri Ravi Shankar:

Gayatri: If our intention is authentic and yet our actions are not skillful, what should we do?

Sri Sri: Carry a handkerchief.

It sounds like something the women would have said. Then they would cackle.