Sunday, February 27, 2011

Nancy Jean Fish a.k.a. Pansy Palmetto


Well, after my last entry I decided to rename it and just call it Nancy Jean Fish a.k.a., Pansy Palmetto. Why? Because this is my Blog and I can do whatever the hell I want with it. Besides, who wants to read something with a title like “Fuck Forever” anyway? I guess I felt a little guilty because the last one, and it will stay part of this one, was just a little too… say…close to home, or selfish as I look back on it. I mean I really didn’t even mention why, or who I attributed the entry. So, with this meager attempt, I’ll try and put a few words down so that “Fuck Forever” makes some sense.



Her name was Nancy Jean Fish, or Pansy Palmetto for those so fortunate to call her their friend. Why Pansy Palmetto? Hell, I didn’t even know why until her memorial service. Pansy Palmetto was her Porn name. WTF? Porn Name? Yeah, that one hit me as well, and you wouldn’t even begin to understand why unless you met this full-of-beans icon. Pansy, as I understand it, was the name of her first dog, and Palmetto street was the name of the first street she lived on. Hence, her Porn name. Me, mine would have been Manfred something or another because I can’t remember the first street I lived on. So, Manfred Blank…catchy uh? Sure wouldn't win me any movie parts, now would it (Oh, no pun intended! Hahaha!) Anyway, now you get the idea.

Nancy was the epitome of life as it should be lived, period. There aren’t really any other words to describe her; although, I’ll try to make a worthy attempt here in a few short words. She pushed through every moment with a grace that was full of abandonment. Nothing, and I mean nothing, stood in her way! If you were lucky enough to be standing at the station when her train came whizzin’ by, you were snatched up, loaded, and strapped in before you could utter a word. You were along for the ride baby, and she didn’t care if you liked it or not. I actually think she was like that her entire life by the tall tales and colorful comments from friends and family at her memorial service. My cycling friend Curt once said this about her, “Ya know, there aren’t too many people who are like they appear to be on the internet, but Nancy is exactly like she appears to be on the internet.” As I reflected back on Curt’s comment, I realized more and more that he was spot on. All you have to do is read her blog and you will get a picture-perfect look into the persona of Pansy Palmetto.

I could go on and on about how she affected my life and what I think she left behind, but I’m not gonna do that here. My meager words wouldn’t do justice to Nancy’s own narration of herself…and, if she ever found out that I had even tried, she would have beaten me like the red-headed step child that she always thought I was anyway. I’ll just leave you with her blog, and I will guarantee that once you start reading, you won’t be able to stop. Without question, everyone that I directed to her blog, came back and said, “Who the hell is that woman, she’s hilarious!”






I tried this several times once before but my fingers remained motionless…the cursor flashed in a white sea of emptiness…I walked away. I guess now that the words have been said, the slideshows played, and sympathies passed along, I could finally put a few things down on this blog that would help me move on.

I had a co-worker tell me once, “Mozam, love them while they are here, ‘cause once they are gone, it is forever.” Well, I guess that is true in one sense of the word, but I rationalized his statement, thinking that you can always have their memory, right? I guess it is the finality of it all that fucks with your head more than anything. To be honest, I hate these kind of things because it just plain hurts. A bit selfish I know, but it just hurts.

I’ve had to say goodbye to a few friends who one day were here, and in the next moment, splattered their entire existence across a landscape while preparing to defend the foreign policies of this great land. The finality of watching their family receive the flag that once draped over their casket, kicked me right up side the head, and it hurt. It’s the final thought that remains: the flag will be placed in a case, along with medals of service, on a mantle of honor – a final resting place – that stuns you.

Walking past the pictures, smiling and occasionally laughing at the captured moments in time, I stood there admiring the turquoise boots, helmet, and jacket. Somehow, I suddenly realized that I would probably never see these again…so I moved on and smiled. So…it is true: once they are gone, it is forever. But, and there is always a but! I’ll take the memories and FUCK forever…I choose to put off the finality of the moment until the end.

1 comment:

ScarletAnne said...

Your words sink deep into my soul.
Thank you