Way Corp group(s) I was in
9th
About Me
4 children, Boys ages 10,18,20,21
My Interests
Marathon running
Swimming
Guitar
Piano
Employment or Career
Registered Nurse -- Obstetrics
Music I Like
Eric Clapton
Allman Brothers
Keith Urban
Television I like
Dog Whisperer
The Office
Fox News
Comments
Remember visiting my high school friend, Pat Smith, and his girl friend at a bar in Ann Arbor, MI? They're married, have five grown children, and he's an extremely successful orthopedic surgeon and team doctor for the Missouri Tigers.
Let me fill in some details about the whacky lady that you may have forgotten (or psychologically blocked out of your concious memory). Lisa thinks it's so funny we should incorporate into a movie about the 70's cult thing.
We're at my parent's house, after a day of painting Mary Hickey's house, my former neighbor accross the street, now widowed, and living about a 45 minute drive from my parent's new house. The phone rings at my parent's house...I answer it, and there's no voice on the other end, so I'm saying "Hello...hello...hello", and am just about to hang up when the most gawdawful, hideous, Stephen King book type scream decalcifies my spinal cord. I'm petrified. Screams continue, and are finally accompanied by words indicating that Mary Hickey has someone (thing, maybe) in her house trying to kill her. Jeff and Leslie, eager for spiritual adventure, assure Mary that help is on the way...and we are.
We pull up to a completely dark house on a completely dark street around midnight. Doorbells are rung, no response. Knocking at all doors commences. No response. Pounding on doors, looking for an open window, no response or success. We're sure things have become "fubar" (military term for f***** up beyond all repair) when we find an unlocked rear door. Entering, and wandering through a totally pitch black house, looking for a lightswitch and not finding one for what seemed an eternity while calling for Mary Hickey and not getting a response, we're now quite convinced that things have indeed become fubar, then, the same gawdawful scream heard over the phone an hour ago that almost caused me to soil myself, was, with NO WARNING in our faces at MAXIMUM bloodcurdling volume. Finally, the lights come on, Mary Hickey is alive (though extremely drunk), shaking like a leaf, and blabbering about people (or other, more dangerous beings...we secretly hope) trying to kill her.
Well, the paint job was completed, we each made $800.00, which, after a $20.00 a month stipend to live on for a year (I cheated...didn't you?), was an enormous amount of wealth.
The last day was determined to be "The Casting Out of Spirits" day. A splendid scenario from which to spring into life at Emporia, Kansas the next day could have never been better planned. We were at the kitchen table, face to face with one of Satan's minions, sparring at first with appropriate chapter and verse until we were ready to move in for the kill, the very excorcism itself. When I demanded a name, apparently I missed the mark a bit, as she responded with "Mary Hickey", with a look of drunken bewilderment that indicated she thought her former accross the street neighbors, Jerry and Betty Mackay, raised a son a beer or two short of a sixpack. Not to be daunted I (we) repeatedly demanded that we were not addressing Mary Hickey. After several failed attempts to draw a different response, she (it) finally produced another name...paydirt!!! (sorry, can't remember the name...work with me here, but I immediately knew that it wasn't one I hadn't learned in "The Advanced Class for Power For Abundant Living"), which added to my intrigue and determination. I was already thinking of how I would outshine Dick DeNenno, Lennie Hopkins, Ann Marie Foise, and even Eddie Lemos at nightowls atop Wierwille, with spiritual insights (Didn't know them yet, but, yeah...you get the point) as I repeatedly cast the foul thing back to the fires of Hell Itself. After five or more minutes of this, you nudge me and inform me that the name (of the vile spirit tormenting her and propelling me to the spiritual hall of fame)...was her maiden name. She couldn't figure out just what in the hell she could say her name was, therby shutting me the f*** up, so she went for the only other option she could think of...her maiden name.
I'm pretty sure you managed to do that with a straight face.
The 65 foot fall is another story for another day, I'm getting carpal tunnel.
How's your sister Debbie? And your parents and brother? I remember meeting them all, but can't remember their names.
Hope I didn't bore you to tears, but to get to re tell that story to you (anybody else would think I'm embellishing, but you were there and could probably add a bunch to it) after all these years is a hoot and a half.
Marathoner? Cool deal.
Wish you and your family nothing but the best. My next contact will be more normal, I promise.
Thanks honey, I have been thinking of you all the weekend! Glad that all went well. It is a great achievement to accomplish that Marathon. Sure preoud of you girl! Thanks for keeping me in touch regarding Laurie. She remains on my heart and in my prayers. My love to ALL your men!!!
Luv--
Jeff Mackay
enjoyed talking to you last week. I hooked up w/ M. Paynard via this site, we are going for coffee or lunch or whatever on Fri., she's got a daughter in Chicago,will keep you posted.Davis loves ya!!