January 7, 2017 – The morning we left Delaware

          We had friends that were one of those unmatched couples.   She was a tiny thing that we called “little biddy” or “biddy” – we hardly never used her given name - and her husband Palmer, was the tall John Wayne type.  My husband and I both pronounced his name as “Paah-maah” much to his amusement.

          They were Eastern shore naturalists.  He raised beagles which I endearingly called “rabbit hunting dogs”.  I burned lots of 35 mm film on them and one was called “Mud Pie” who had spotted front paws.  He kept chickens, he crabbed in the summer and farmed and fished and hunted in the winter.  He lived off the land, while his very educated wife worked in an office.

          One day on our visit to their house where we met to go off crabbing, I stepped into the kitchen and the biddy is just finishing up wrapping the warm-from-the-oven Sweet Potato Biscuits. [I promise I will fish that recipe out and share it with you.]

          I glanced down and viewed a dead, wild rabbit laid on end table going into the living room.  I acted like I hadn’t noticed it.  I knew they lived off the land.

          The Biddy had finished packing the biscuits and as we were heading out the door when she remembered the rabbit.

          “I need to care of this before we go.”   She handed me the bag of biscuits and she picked up the rabbit by its ears.  We walked out towards the wooden picnic table.

          I stopped short and watched from a distance.  Biddy cut and dressed it. I was surprised it was all done in the matter of maybe 1 ½ minutes with the fur coming off in one smooth piece.  I was fascinated that this well-educated woman knew how to do this.   She returned to the house to put it in the refrigerator.

          They were the most interesting couple we ever made friends with.  They were seriously down to earth.  We had so many good times with them.

          When we left Delaware to go to Minnesota we arranged to meet them the day we were leaving.   The movers had been there earlier in the day, we had our car packed up with the last of our luggage and the cleaning aids that the professional movers never pack.

          We had sold our house privately and had exchanged papers and keys. I had finished washing the kitchen floor and was finalizing the vacuuming.

Due to limited space in our vehicle, I was wearing a dress and heels that I would need in Minnesota when we arrived.  It was one of my favorite dresses that I had made.  A taupe colored boat neck dress that had a floral border print at the neckline and at the hem with taupe 4-inch heels.

          My last step was putting a bit of shine on the kitchen floor with “Brite” floor wax so that the young couple who had bought the house would have a fresh, clean, shiny kitchen floor. [I was always obsessive compulsive about the cleanliness of how I left an apartment or house every time we moved.]

          Palmah carried out the vacuum cleaner and came back in.  I had spurted the Brite floor wax and was sweeping it smoothly over the floor with a clean mop that I kept solely for waxing.

          “I h’ain’t ever seen anyone mop a floor in high heels.”  Palmah announced and then he giggled and cackled and called Biddy and my husband in to witness this.

          Palmah laughed and laughed and got us all laughing.  It was a darn good thing, because when we went to hug each other goodbye – we all wanted to cry.

          Anytime we telephone to connect with them over the years – he always jokes,

“Do you still mop the floor in your high heels?”