They’ve put duct tape over my name at Union Mission.
Pretty funny, huh?
I suppose it is akin to trying to blot my name out of the “Book of Life” and there is no doubt that there are those, including a former Board chair who chooses to remain anonymous, who would like nothing more than that!
But, seriously … Duct tape?
There is a sign in my old parking space. It was a gift of love of the Health Services staff and it had my name on it, proclaiming my parking space and that it was a gift of one of the staffs. It’s all still there except there is the Duct tape over my name.
It cracks me up!
I hope that whoever did it used their own Duct tape and NOT the stuff that Charles uses to patch his pants. For more than a decade I was the principal care taker of the six-foot-four, mentally ill, African-American former bank robber and I still love him still as much as I’ve loved anybody. Though Joy and I controlled his money he somehow had a never ending supply of Duct tape that he used to patch his pants, put Christmas decorations on trash cans, and leave notes for me on my door.
Then again, Union Mission is a much different place than when I was there. I would go nuts if I saw signs taped to anything! It’s just not professional. Even if it was the clear tape that grows yellow over time. You’d never see that stuff in bank. Well … maybe the one that the former Board Chair who chooses to remain anonymous ran for eighteen months.
Though I must confess I’ve grown to appreciate Duct tape. It first happened in St. Martin. I forgot why but Conner and I were in serious need of the magic stuff. I think that we did a hostile takeover of the fitness center and needed to shut Nathalie up so we needed to Duct tape her mouth. Nathalie works at the fitness center even when she is hung over (see you in a couple of weeks!). I remember wine and cheese and a Norwegian being involved.
Now we’re in the Caribbean and Duct tape is hard to come by. Then Lynn O’Quinn says “I got Duct tape.” Then she goes through the forty seven storage bins that she had, one of which was filled with Duct tape and hands Conner and I roll still wrapped in the plastic stuff that it comes in.
We tell her thanks and then start to search for a knife.
“I got a knife,” she says as she opens another storage bin and pulls out a knife like the Jason used in those movies. “This is the one that I was planning to use on my husband but you can borrow it for a second.”
Conner and I both kind of just stood there … neither one of us wanting to get that close to Lynn who was holding a knife.
But we kept the Duct tape.
Now I make absolutely certain that I have Duct nearby at all times.
If you come to my house you will see my refrigerator which is covered with “Jesus” magnets holding up pictures of people whom I love, one wearing yellow boots for some reason.
Anyway there is one of Jenny Orr and me with Roma in the middle. Roma’s mouth is Duct taped shut. Jenny and I are smiling. It’s the only time that I ever remember that Jenny and I talked without Roma saying something.
So I’m done with this blog.
It’s kind of held together by Duct tape anyway.
My fingers are sticky.
