All my life I have believed in good. Bad sometimes prevails, but I have always figured if I hold on long enough bad will fail in the end. Lately, it has gotten more and more difficult to hold on to the good. Sister Paula Merrill was murdered on Thursday. She was a nurse practitioner who dedicated her life to providing health care to people in the poorest county in Mississippi. I knew Paula Merrill. We went to St. Pat’s in Stoneham together for eight years. We went to Fenway Park to watch the Sox. She went to one high school while I went to another, but when my family was moving to the Cape, Paula offered a room in her house so I could finish high school where I started, but we lost track of each other sometime after high school. I didn’t even know she had become a nun. When I visit my sister, I go by Paula’s family house, and I think Paula Merrill lived there. I go by another house and think Dennis McCarthy lived there. Paula Tague lived in another house I pass. Marilyn Rich lived on that street and David Coleman on another. Patty Hurley still lives up the street from my sister. They were my classmates for eight years and are part of my history. When I drive by their houses, I remember each of them, but they are frozen in time. Paula Merrill isn’t any longer. I mourn her death despite the years since we’ve seen each other. I firmly believe, though, that despite all, Paula would remind me to hold fast to the good for all I’m worth.
Posted tagged ‘murder’
“Writing in English is like throwing mud at a wall.”
November 7, 2015Yesterday and sometime during the night it rained. The wind was so strong my deck, my lawn and my driveway have disappeared, buried in fallen leaves and pine needles. The sky is still overcast and the day is damp and cooler than it has been. Yesterday was close to 70˚. I even had windows open including my bedroom all night.
A loud noise woke me up last night. When I turned on the light, I found Gracie had rolled out of bed to the floor. I hurried to check her. She seemed fine and had no problem jumping back onto the bed. This morning I checked her again, and she seems fine. I suspect she was as shocked as I was. Fern looked, didn’t move and quickly went back to sleep.
Yesterday morning there was a head-on collision on the Sagamore Bridge. The front page of the Cape Times had a blurb which said the driver of the box truck was seriously injured. The inside, more detailed article, quoted the CEO of the company saying the driver was injured but was okay. It wasn’t the fact of the accident which caught my attention but rather the cargo of the two trucks. One carried fish and the other cranberries. I have to think the cape would be just about the only place where fish and cranberries would be involved in the same accident. The driver was concerned about his two beautiful bluefin tuna. The description of the accident by a police officer in Bourne gave me a chuckle, “Cranberries were observed covering the entire roadway in either direction on the bridge.” After the offending cranberries were removed, the bridge was reopened.
I do love reading my papers, but I often find the language wanting and sometimes even silly. Sadly a woman’s burned body was found on Wednesday near railroad tracks in Bridgewater. Her hands and feet were bound. According to the article, police speculated this was a homicide. There were a couple of quotes from people living in the neighborhood. This was my favorite and clearly indicated the author was starved for copy, “It’s very disturbing to have a dead body dumped next to the house you grew up in.” You think?
keepthecoffeecoming.blog 