Humor writer, Erma Bombeck could take an everyday event and turn it into an essay that made readers laugh out loud. Sure, sometimes the laughs were at the expense of her family, but everyone could relate. When I was a young mother, I couldn't wait to read her newspaper column. I can remember relishing the early morning, my alone, quiet time. I would ease out the front door, sit on the porch and try to turn the newspaper pages without making a rustling sound for fear of waking the kids, three rooms away, because those little darlings could track me down like bloodhounds.
I looked like a spy in a 1950's cheap film when a neighbor came out his or her door. I'd raise my opened paper forehead-high and keep my head buried. I'd lower it an inch at a time past my eyes to make certain that Joe, the friendly, old scrubby Dutchman didn't notice me and shout, "Ahhh, goota mahning! When is your husband going to mow the lawn?" I didn't want the cop up the block heading to the precinct to wave and bellow louder than his car horn, "Moooornin'!" And that old gossip woman two doors up, well she was so nearsighted that she mistook a morning wave for a come hither motion, and once she opened her mouth, she did her best to tell the worst about each neighbor on the block. I avoided those early risers who could raise my ire, and my kids from their lairs before I was ready for them.
I actually mourned Erma's passing when she died from complications of kidney disease.
I came across a book recently by Alicia Alvrez, The Ladies' Room Reader, The Ultimate Women's Trivia Book, (2000) in which she claims Erma Bombeck wanted to keep us laughing even from the grave. She requested that her epitaph read, "BIG DEAL!" I'm used to dust.
Erma Bombeck was my hero. Did you read her columns, books?