Remembering Mama Cathy.

The other day I asked Fiona if she remembered visiting Mama Cathy and Papa Joe when we were in St. Louis. “You remember,” I prompted. “She gave you a ride on her special wheelie chair.”


“And she sang that song to Bianca? You know, the one that went “Oh Bianca, oh Bianca, you’re so beauuuuuutiful.”


“Remember? She’s married to Papa Joe?”


She looked at me with her little brow furrowed, thinking, remembering. Suddenly she lit up. “Oh, yeah! I remember! She had cookies at her house in a jar! They were those bird cookies.”

“Bird cookies?”

“You know, the kind with chocolate on the outside and cream on the inside?”


Sleep well, Mama Cathy. Thanks for the oreos.


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