She was a friend. She was a mentor. She was a gift. As her sister, Nancy, said at the hospital, "it is hard to think of Bernie in the past tense." That it is. For so long, she has been woven in the fabric of our lives, but just because she has finished this leg of her eternal journey does not mean her presence will unravel. She will continue to weave memories in our minds ~ her beautiful smile, that mischievous gleam in her eye, a delicious meal graciously served, an unexpected "bawdy" remark.
My first remembrance of Bernie was an invitation to lunch after church. Marshall was a babe in arms. Unbeknownst to me, Ken had accepted the invitation with the caveat that we could come, but Kentucky was playing basketball, and he would need to watch the game on TV. We sat down at Bud and Bernie's beautifully set table, enjoyed a lunch of stuffed peppers (I had never had such a thing - extraordinarily elegant to me), and before dessert Ken was up from the table watching the little TV in the sitting area between the kitchen and dining room. I was mortified. Bernie was, from that moment, enchanted by Ken. She had found a kindred non-BSer, and she loved him from that point. Oh, and dessert was the most wonderful meringue tart with ice cream and fresh berries, Wow, could she ever cook.
She loved to tell the story of when Marshall, "just a little fellow" came to her house selling popcorn or candy or some such thing for Cub Scouts. It was a Saturday morning, and when she invited him in, he looked around, slack-jawed, and asked, "do you live like this all the time?" He meant, is your house always this clean and straight? It was a concept with which he was most unfamiliar. What I love about her reaction to that interchange was in some way, in her unique Bernie way, it made her love us more, not judge our slovenliness.
When our first dog was hit by a car and died, Marshall was inconsolable. Buddy had just had to have a beloved pet put down. We asked if Marshall could come and visit with them, and maybe Bud could help him through his grief. Bud and Bernie welcomed him, not as a child with childish pain, but as a peer. There is no way to know the number of people whose lives they, as a couple and as individuals, touched with grace and beauty.
I have so many memories of time spent with Mz. Bernie. Perhaps, the best one was our adventure into the world of tattoos. It was the result of a Ladies' Luncheon at church. We were seated at tables with those with whom we had some oddity in common. Bernie was at a table where everyone had a tattoo. The problem was only two of them actually had tattoos, and the rest had been given fake ones. Well, there was nothing fake about Mz. Bernie. After the lunch, I was helping her put some items in the ThriftSmart bin when she lamented her displeasure in having a fake tattoo, and that she thought she would like to get a real one. I told her that I had always wanted a tattoo. She said, "what's stopping us?" I replied, "nothing!" So, a plan was begun. I am not sure that this was the intended outcome of the church ladies' lunch, but then again, it is Otter Creek.
I was in charge of finding the proper tattoo parlor, suitable for two good C of C "girls." We picked the Christian tattoo parlor in Downtown Nashville...right in the middle of Fan Fair. We excitedly arrived, giggling, a bit nervous, pondering what masterpieces we would have forever stamped on ourselves, and where exactly we would put them. The one thing we did know was that if we were going to do this thing, we would not be embarrassed, and we would not put it in some unseen place. She chose her ankle. I chose my foot. She chose a nail cross. I chose a Celtic cross. Sheri came and giggled with us and offered moral support, being a tattooed girl herself, she knew the ropes. People from all over the place were there, getting their Nashville Fan Fair tattoos. The children of the owners were selling bottles of water to raise money for a mission trip. People were asking us where we were from and had we ever been to Fan Fair before. We explained. They were fascinated by the 80 year old, Nashville native getting a tattoo. She was a major attraction, and just possibly the thing some of those tourist would remember most about their trip to Nashville that year.
When we were driving home, Mz. Bernie said,"well, when I die, and I'm laid out on that table, they're going to know I was a lively old broad." And, that she was.
Mz. Bernie was in our house often. She was included in all invitations to the Inner City Catfish dinner, Southern Living Home events, Tupperware parties, Home art sale parties, etc.....I could always count on her presence and her rave reviews on the food, no matter how mediocre it might have been. She called me (and everybody else she knew) Honey, and would often refer to Ken and me as "you kids." She once said that if I invited her to my house and was serving "cow patties," she would come. On occasion, she would give me the greatest compliment of them all ~ "you remind me of Nan." Nan, her beloved, talented, gifted, beautiful daughter. There was no higher praise coming from Mz. Bernie. I feel compelled to add that her thinking I was like Nan is a testimony to the rose-colored glasses through which she viewed me rather than any true similarities. I haven't in my entire body a modicum of talent that Nan has in her pinky finger.No one was any prouder than Mz. Bernie when Ken was given a judgeship. The last time I was with her, she commented on how beautiful Mary-Pullias was and is. She loved well. She felt deeply. She grieved with those she loved, she rejoiced with them as well. She was a little, feisty, sometimes bawdy, funny, talented, gracious, wise woman with a servant's heart. I loved her. I will miss her, like so many others. I do not really know what happens when this leg of our journey ends, but I will rest in the hope that she and Buddy are having a most spectacular reunion.
She left this realm yesterday, quietly and peacefully, with her family "singing her out." Just how she would have orchestrated it ~ perhaps, she and her Father did just that.
For today, I wish you
blessings
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