The End of an Era.

On Thursday, January 19, Elizabeth "Betty" Curran departed this world. She was the mother of my high school friend -- JoAnn. The funeral was on Saturday and many of the old gang from Regina H.S. showed up. That’s the amazing thing about a funeral—amidst the grief there is the joy of seeing old friends. A weird sort of reunion celebration.

--Let me tell you something about Betty and all the other Moms of her generation: Simply, they don’t make ‘em like that any more. Strong women. Beautiful women. Post-war marriages to their soldier boys. Amazing mothers. Whatever-it-takes kind of women. Behind the scenes partners to their men who were out there working their asses off to support growing families.
--Case in point: Betty and Mike Curran started the south Minneapolis landmark, Curran’s Drive-In, on 42nd and Nicollet. Just blocks from my high school – Regina -- the place loomed large for our crowd. After school we would schlep up 42nd street to catch the #18 bus on Nicollet Avenue and get to our part-time jobs by 4:00. Many a Regina girl earned her tuition working as a carhop at Curran’s. So the drill was: stop for an order of fries, a cigarette, trash talk the Nuns and the underclassmen, then grab the bus downtown. JoAnn’s dad, Mike, knew us all whether we worked for him or not. We’d crowd around the small inside counter and JoAnn’s dad, Mr. Curran, aka Mike, would come booming out of the kitchen and give us a hard time. He was social, boisterous, charming and never judgmental as the Tareyton’s dripped from our lips.

--Betty and all the other “stay-at-home” moms gave the feminists something to rebel against. After all, how satisfying could that life be? I’m guessing, that for the most part, it was pretty eff-ing good. (Yeah, I know there was the whole John Cheever, waspy unhappy housewife thing going on, but I’m talking South-Minneapolis-cradle-of-tribal-family-territory-thing.) I’d like anyone to try to keep up with any of our old-school moms for even a day. I dare you! Double dog dare you! You’d be crying on your knees begging for mercy!
- No microwaves or designer kitchens
- No convenience foods
- No disposable diapers
- No Target! In fact, NO SHOPPING ON SUNDAYS! For the love of Gawd.

Here’s to Betty: one of the happiest, joyful women on earth. She actually planned her entire funeral liturgy before she died. It was like her: strong, confident, and not sentimental.

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Listening to: Mahalia Jackson -- it's Sunday morning, baby!
Eating: Banana muffins and high-test coffee
Preparing for: another Sunday @ work!