My great-grandmother was a small wiry woman.  She seldom smiled it seemed to me but maybe, I thought that was because she had outlived her entire family.  She had a large humped over back due to severe osteoporosis.   However my mother constantly used that as the threatening outcome for me not standing up straight. I called this little woman Mama Ernie.   And yes.  Ernie was her real name.  Actually it was Ernie Autense Johnson Cross.  I mean….what was her parents thinking?  As if Ernie wasn’t bad enough …let’s throw in name that NOONE else on earth has ever been named.  Autense.  It almost sounds like an insult of some kind.  But take into consideration that she had three brothers: Truman, Autrey and Osborne. And then old Ernie.  My great-grandmother.

Well, Mama Ernie was a little bit of a hypochondriac.  She basically caught sicknesses over the phone.  Sometimes even just by knowing someone who knew someone who had been sick.  Maybe it was a way to get attention.  Or maybe she genuinely thought she was sick.  Whatever the case it became a family form of entertainment.  My uncle, however, had to be the meanest son ever.  Oh, I’m sure he loved his mother, but he had the least amount of patience with her never-ending illnesses .Like when she called him up and very matter-of-factly admitted that she felt like she was coming down with something.  My uncle didn’t take the bait.  He continued talking about how he and his neighbor had been arguing over their property line.  But Mama Ernie wasn’t having it.   This was very serious, she assured my uncle.  She felt sure she had “the aids”.  My uncle wasn’t sympathetic nor did he offer his condolences.  He calmly asked, “Well Mother, have you ever been with a homosexual before?” (keep in mind this was back in the 80’s)  And my grandmother, Mrs. Ernie Autense said very seriously, and with much dismay, “No, but one did work for your father a couple of years back at the garage.”

Fortunately for Mama Ernie and the rest of the world, it wasn’t that easy to get Aids.  As a matter of fact, she lived to be the ripe old age of 87, outliving her husband, all her siblings, and most of her cousins.

I’ve often wondered how tiring it must have been for her to think and feel like she was sick all the time.  Barely getting over one illness, but to find that there was something new.  No hope or thoughts of the future.  Just living in her current maladies.

Well, I don’t know about you but I’ve been there-despairing in my situation-my sickness.  But thankfully, I have learned to look to the bright tomorrows instead of the gray skies of today.  I’ve learned that to look on the bright side requires strength and effort. But its an effort I’m willing to put forth every day….Unless of course, I develop a rare incurable strain of smallpox….you know I did travel out of the country back in 2010………..