Barbara V Evers

A True Snow in 2011.  All Rights Reserved. It started snowing about five hours ago.  Before any accumulation, before most could even see the light, scattered drifting snow, people in my area started updating their Facebook statuses:  We've got snow! If you don't live in the Southeastern part of the US, you probably don't get our frenzy.  It makes no sense, afterall, you live with snow most of the winter.  What's the big deal? Why can't we drive?   Why do we buy out the bread and milk?  Why do the schools close? Let me explain. Why can't we drive in the snow? We can drive in the snow. We can't drive on ice, and we get ice.  It's rare that the white stuff falling from the sky is snow (although today it appears to be a wet snow).  It's usually sleet or freezing rain.  During the day, it melts, and at night it refreezes into this horrid thing called black ice.  You can't see it! It blends in well with the snow, or if the roads are cle

The line of people appeared endless.  I wanted to speak to each one, thank them for joining us as we honored my mother's memory, but I wondered how many more people remained in the line.  The woman who approached me next had a familiar face, but I had to ask for her name.  Not the first or last time that would happen. "I love what you said about your mother.  Please send me a copy of it." Honored at her request, I agreed, wondering how to manage it.  Yes, I had spoken during the service, but I worked from a list of key thoughts.  I didn't write down what I said word for word.  Plus, speaking and reading are very different.  If I managed to put the words together as I said them, this friend of my mother's would be missing all of the nuances of body language, tone, and pacing. I managed to compile a close version of what I said, and, since others have expressed an interest in reading it, my memorial to my mother appears below. Please keep in mind, th