CELL PHONE PACKING MAMA

                                        CELL PHONE PACKING MAMA


                                                                                    T. Wieland Allen

     Okay, so I slid down the basement stairs on my tummy without a sled several months ago and all of a sudden I’m accident prone to my loved ones. It wasn’t a legitimate fall, just that the house slippers went out from under me as I ran down the stairs to the basement to get something.
     It’s not like I’m a decrepit old lady who falls all the time and needs to be monitored by one of those Life Line necklaces. I’m healthy. I mow and manicure my huge lawn, take care of a big house and pool, run a business and write several blogs. I’m young for my age, which is 77 years old. The slide down the stairs resulted in a broken bone in one foot and a broken big toe on the other foot, plus a few bones broken in the smaller toes. I have quickly healed from that unfortunate occurrence.
     Since the day of the fall, all of the people who love me are concerned about me and have been talking about making sure I don’t go sledding unintentionally again inside the house without a sled and break a hip, a leg or an arm. I genuinely appreciate all of the concern.
     I knew after the fall that my adult children were secretly thinking about assisted living places for me, even though they didn’t voice it to me. I told them that I would move to an island and get me a hunk of a native guy and let him wait on me the rest of my life before I moved to an assisted living complex while I‘m still totally active. In one of those complexes I wouldn’t have dirt in which to dig. I haven’t decided whether I’m part gopher or part horticulturist, but digging in the dirt seems to be my favorite past time.
     Don’t tell anyone, but maybe the hunky native guy is not too far fetched now that I just returned from a cruise and found the perfect island. I’m keeping that secret from my adult children lest they keep closer eyes on my traveling.
     I really do appreciate the efforts to help me in my active life. I have been advised many, many times to carry my cell phone with me at all times in case I fall again. See, they seem to think that I make a habit of falling. Heck, anyone can break something. My precious young niece merely stepped up on a curb and broke the same bone in her foot.
     Please don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to know that so many people are concerned about my safety.
     Carrying the cell phone from room to room and outside became a burden to me since I’m not really a phone person.
     I’ve worked 40 years answering a business phone at all hours of the day, so a respite from that seems pleasant to me. I understand the concern of my children and grandchildren. They are interested in my well being.
     Lord, deliver me from trying to remember to take the cell phone from room to room. It was always in the previous room in which I was engaged in either working or cleaning. However, when it was in another room, I’ll have to admit that I felt a little insecure without it being in close reach.
     One of my sisters graciously suggested that I put the cell phone in a fanny pack and then it will be accessible to me at all times. Well, Sister, you know me well enough to know that when I put a fanny pack on my waist that my buttocks grows about five inches, sticking out in all directions. I told her, after eating all the great food on the cruise, that I felt like if My derriere got any bigger I would topple over backwards because of the unevenly distributed weight gained from all the fabulous food. I don’t know why it always goes to that region of my body, but it does. So the fanny pack is out. My fanny is packed enough.
     It finally came to me that I can use the slender and small passport holder to hold my cell phone, keeping it close to me. It has a shoulder strap that goes over the head and rests on the other shoulder. It’s not burdensome or heavy and certainly doesn’t call attention to the area of the body which has become popular to highlight in the past ten years. There was a time when the backside of a woman’s body was girded-in by a tight girdle. I’m still locked into that ‘50s and ‘60s thinking related to fashion acceptance. No bells or ribbons on the real “bottom” for me. Mine doesn’t need to be spotlighted.
     After three days I feel relatively used to the cell phone being cradled in the passport pouch which is hanging around my neck at all times except at night. Then it rests on the night stand next to my bed in case I need to call someone for assistance.
     Do I feel more secure? Yes, I feel more secure, but I also feel like a mailman with the pouch hung around my neck and hanging loose at my side. I think of myself as Mailman Meme, Mailman Grandma or Mailman Mamma.
     I thought about referring to myself as US Postal Mamma, but that might be misinterpreted as me being a pistol packing mamma. I’m absolutely not a gun toting mama. If that’s your current identity, bully for you. I’m just not prone to use guns for protection when I know that the name of Jesus carries more power than any assault rifle. I read in the Bible that every knee in heaven and earth will bow at the name of Jesus. I had a friend who was being restrained by a man who was going to rape her and she merely said, “In the name of Jesus,” and he pulled up his pants and drawers (her word for underwear) and ran out the door. So I have more confidence in that name than I do in guns. If your confidence is in artillery, who am I to advise you to the contrary?
     So today I do feel like Mailman MeMe or Mailman Grandma with the cell phone hanging around my neck. At least I know where my cell phone is when I need it. Only problem is, the only calls I’ve gotten on it are from a security company who wants to put a system in my house and the other call came from a charity, of which I’ve never heard, who wants my money. Lord, deliver me from those kinds of calls.
     So my children and my other loved ones knew best. I do feel more secure as Mailman Mama with the cell phone hanging around my neck and down my side, ready to answer if someone calls and ready to use in an emergency.
     It’s really wonderful to be so loved and protected, but I’m still waiting to find the hunky native guy to wait on me hand and foot. I wonder if he would wear the passport pouch with my cell phone around his neck instead of me? I don’t plan to let him out of my sight once I locate that island again and find him. I know the cell phone holder will fit perfectly around his neck. He will be cheaper than any assisted living place. He will be better to gaze upon than the old skin which my brother-in-law correctly named which was abundantly displayed on the bodies that we observed at the outdoor pool on the Lawrence Welk cruise.
     Please, Lord, also deliver us from having to again look at bikini clad and Speedo clad proudly displayed “old skin.” Yuck.