Folks, this the truth, the whole truth and nothin’ but the truth.

I moved here to Henryetta about 10 years ago. Before here, I was living in Kansas near my daughter. In conversation with

In conversation with her, I told her, don’t spend good money, if I die here, taking my old dead body back to southeast Oklahoma.

Just have me cremated, put my ashes in a coffee can (now it would require one of those big coffee cans, because I ain’t no skinny-minnie). Anyway, just throw me

Anyway, just throw me in the trunk of your car, along with a shovel and bury me there alongside your daddy.

I went on to explain that you don’t even need a permit to do this in that little community cemetery.

My desire is to be buried there beside the love of my life and the father of my children. There too, beside my mother and grandmother, great grandmother and great-great grandmother as well as my dad, but only two grandads, aunts and uncles and even a baby brother.

Sadly, I do not know where my great grandad is buried as I never asked and now there is no one to ask.

My great grandmother came as a widow to Oklahoma from Texas, shortly after Oklahoma became a state.

I thought, well that is taken care of!

In all sincerity, I don’t care what my family decides to do with me, ‘cause I will already be living on the Hallelujah side!

I thought that was the end of the story.

However, my niece heard this and suggested another plan. See, she lives only about 20 miles from that cemetery.

She said there was no need for my daughter to make that long drive from Kansas with my ashes in a coffee can. She suggested for my ashes to be put in a Ziploc bag and be mailed to her and she would bury me. (I am wondering if a gallon size will hold my ashes).

Now this became a family joke.

So now I have moved closer to that cemetery.

Then my son asks, “Mother, what do you want me to put your ashes in?”

I suggested a big tea pot and it must be a big tea pot and I pointed it out to him there in the China cabinet.

You see, I was privileged a while back to spend some time in London, England where my romance with tea pots started and continues.

Later, he brought up the subject, once more. “Mom,” he said, “I am not comfortable putting your ashes in that tea pot. What if I stumble and drop that tea pot and it breaks all to pieces?”

He’s got a point, don’t you think?

So, at this present time, the question remains – what to do with poor old mom’s ashes?

Again, I say it really doesn’t matter to me for I will already be livin’ on the Hallelujah side.

Let me explain. I plan to be running down those streets of gold – yelling to the top of my voice – Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

So if you hear a commotion outside your mansion door – it’s just me rejoicing that I finally made it home!

I heard two old fellas talking. First man: “I’ll tell you

First man: “I’ll tell you something, friend. Graveyards are getting’ too full! Soon they’ll have to start buryin’ people perpendicular, standin’ up, to save room.”

Second man: “What they’ll have to do, then, is put out a sign – SRO – Standin’ Room Only.”