ONE OF MY MOST-SATISFYING MOMENTS.
In 2012, DYS-- Division of Youth Services for the state of Arkansas -- with offices in Little Rock-- offered me a position as their Special Education Director. I accepted the position and immediately resigned my teaching position in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. On my final day of teaching, I took a late lunch break and left school early.
Before leaving town, I chose to drive past a few old landmarks for a final goodbye; to say one last “thank you” to my hometown, the city that raised me. Driving through the city’s abandoned down town, I remembered the crowds that once gathered there to shop; to meet with friends; to watch the frequent parades; and to stop for the many trains whose tracks once intersected with the town’s Main Street.
Driving down the Martha Mitchell Freeway, past the town’s oldest cemetery where many of Pine Bluff’s well-known and familiar now resided, I felt the urge to turn into the cemetery gates. Perhaps I needed to visit with my brother who’d been buried there since 1994. Jerry’s wife buried him beside her father and grandparents and, in 2012, joined them. I decided-- long ago-- not to take-up residency in this cemetery. Instead, my ashes will be spread on the Great Wall, a much-happier place for me.
I parked the car, and walked among the headstones until I found Jerry’s grave. It was February, 1994, when Jerry died. My wonderful Father had also died in February but--six years earlier. I talked with Jerry for a while-- shared a few memories and a prayer then-- feeling a little emotional-- I knew it was time to "keep moving forward."
Many in Pine Bluff are afraid to visit the town’s largest cemetery--- day or night. These days, Pine Bluff resembles a war zone of drugs, killings, robberies, and there are no longer any safe places. Looking around, I was the only person in sight; there were no cars, bicycles, or pedestrians in any direction.
The afternoon was sunshiny and bright with a slight breeze. I felt completely safe and perhaps that’s when I got the idea and--the courage. Who knows why an intelligent woman-- like me--suddenly loses all dignity and good sense--to commit an absolutely-reckless act of “temporary insanity.”
I knew exactly where to find my ex-husband. I’d been to the family plot for the graveside services of his mother, father, and nephew. Driving there, I felt excited about my decision.
Stepping from the car, I took my time walking to his grave. Finding his marker, I positioned myself over the spot where his head rested. With one last look-around and seeing no one, I pulled down my pants and squatted--- like I’d seen Chinese women do--for an enjoyable pee- pee. I peed so much and for so long, the artificial flowers near his headstone appeared to "perk-up" with new life.
For most of the ride back to Little Rock, I alternated between laughs and giggles. I haven’t felt that wild since the one and only time I got tipsy on Champagne---back in 1960--climbed on a table at The Trio Club, and did a naughty-girl dance.
Through the years, I’ve been accused of being impulsive--but never impulsive and wild --at the same time. More than a few of my critics will be shocked to read about my cemetery actions.
Still laughing-- the “little girl in me” takes full responsibility.