Bloggin' Umholtz

More on Miss Muldoon

Last night, when I sat down to compose my blog entry, my mind was a complete blank. Almost immediately, upon picking up my keyboard, a thought of Miss Muldoon floated across my tired mind. I decided to write her the letter you see as yesterday’s entry.

Now, I remember Miss Muldoon as being around my Mom’s age, maybe slightly older so as I wrote the letter I felt sure the odds of her still being alive were pretty slim. My Mom is 81. (Don’t tell anyone, she’ll kill me for telling her age.) I let my mind drift and I typed out all the things I would like to have told her if I had had the opportunity. By the time I finished the letter I started wondering. (That’s a relatively dangerous position for me to be in.) If my mom was still living, well just maybe, Miss Muldoon was also.

I picked up the phone and did what any good boy does when he wants a question answered. I called Mom. The conversation went something like this.

“Hi Mom, how’s things going.”

“Hi son, pretty good, we’re just sitting here watching TV.”

“Did you guys get any snow?”

“Nope, not yet. You?”

“Yeah, we’re getting a dusting or so. Mom, do you remember Miss Muldoon?”

“The name sounds familiar.”

“She was the librarian. I was wondering if she was still living.”

“Oh my, I haven’t heard of her in years. Why do you want to know?”

At this point, I stumbled for words to explain why to my mother and said something like,

“I was just working on something and I thought about her. Just wondering I guess.”

“I could find out if you want.”

“That would be great, Mom. And Mom, could you get me her address if she is?”

“Sure.”

Now you have to understand something about my Mom. She is command central for the greatest phone network of family and friends that you’ve ever seen. I feel certain the Pentagon has probably studied her network to improve upon their own communications. I talked with my Dad for a while and then hung up.

About ten minutes later my Mom called back to tell me that Miss Muldoon was indeed still living, and here’s her address, and do you want her phone number also?

I thanked her, hung up the phone and sat there with a huge lump in my throat, tears in my eyes and an ache in my heart.

In tomorrow’s mail, there will be an envelope with a very special letter. It will be addressed to Miss Ann Muldoon. In that same envelope there will be something else.

Two years ago I took a number of my short stories and turned them into an Ebook. I gave it to family and friends for Christmas 2004. At the same time, because I knew my parents wouldn’t understand about reading a book on the computer, I printed three copies of it, and with the help of Staples had them bound. One I gave to my parents. One I autographed and gave to my wife. And the third?

Well, that’s what will be with the letter to Miss Muldoon.