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Mike
Moser
"I Say"
Published Aug. 15, 2003 |
Little lady with the hat
has left us
I walked into the funeral home and spotted poor Howard, one
of the last of the true gentlemen in this world, sitting sentry
near his beloved Martha's casket. His tired and weary hands rested
on his cane as he spoke to visitors and well-wishers, one by
one.
I waited my turn and when the family friend who knelt by his
side for 10 minutes and smiled and hugged him, I stepped forward.
"This is Martha's boyfriend," Howard introduced
me to a friend. Then leaning forward as if to share a secret,
Howard confided, "You know, she was never really mad at
you for writing that column about her." He grinned. And
then we shared some happy moments about the little lady with
the hat who used to come into the newspaper, just to give me
hell.
Howard loved Martha so much. There were times I am not sure
he had a choice, but I know it was a true love story and as bad
as he will miss her, he knows in his heart she'll suffer no more.
Martha Elliott, not the one on Lantana Rd., for we really
are blessed with two Martha Elliotts in Crossville, but the one
from the Homesteads, the one who would never be caught in public
not wearing one of her famous hats, died Sunday morning after
a cruel and horrible bout with cancer.
She was an 89-year-old fireball who was never shy to let a
newspaper reporter know what she thought of his work, or anyone
else, for that matter. To know Martha - really know her - was
to love her.
Despite her gruff demeanor, she didn't have me fooled for
one minute. I knew she was a sweetheart, no matter how much she
denied the fact.
One of her friends, Mrs. Walter Morris, asked me Tuesday night,
"Are you going to write something about Martha?"
"Of course I am. I will finally get the last word in,"
and everyone around chuckled because they knew, that was just
the way of Miss Martha.
Couldn't count the number of times she would call me up, put
me on the carpet about something I had or hadn't done, and when
she was through, would say, "Bye." The next sound I
would hear would be click.
She was such a character, I wrote a column not long ago about
her. She feigned being angry with me and it took her days to
call me. She knew the anticipation was killing me. When she did,
she asked innocently, "Mr. Moseley (she never pronounced
my name right), why would you want to write something like that
about me? I'm mad at you. And what is this business about poor
Howard? There isn't anything poor about Howard."
Click.
Days later she called and asked, "Mr. Moseley. These
people keep calling me up and saying something about reading
that piece you wrote and then they start laughing. What's that
about?"
Click.
It took Miss Martha about three weeks to come in to see me.
"Where is that old thing," she boomed into the news
room. Before I shared with the staff that she really was a sweetheart,
the staff actually felt sorry for me, for they would witness
some of her beratings. I have to confess, she had me fooled in
the beginning, too.
She then entered my office and launched into me about what
I had done to her life. But she wasn't fooling me because I saw
the twitch in the corner of her mouth caused by her fighting
to keep me from seeing her smile. The she slipped me a card in
an envelope and told me to take my bride out to dinner with the
$20 bill enclosed inside.
I'll will truly miss Miss Martha. There is nothing else I
can say to amplify just how much I will miss her. But, even with
her passing, she has made me smile. You see, I finally got the
last word.
Click.
I know she would love this.
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Mike Moser is the editor of the Crossville Chronicle. His
column is published periodically on Fridays.
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