28. On the passing of Mrs. Lillie Chandler

First, it has snowed some more. The snow started around 4 am and continues at this point. It is scheduled to end later in the day. Hopefully, it will end before nightfall, as I have a funeral wake to attend on W. Broadway at G. C. Williams Mortuary. The deceased was Mrs. Lillie Chandler, 73, an African-American woman I have known for several years, meeting her first because she lived across the street from my friend, the former Louisville alderwoman and councilmember Denise Bentley, who is herself best known for supporting Anne Northup in her various races for office, including her most recent one losing to John Yarmuth last November, and by such support causing a truce to be drawn between she and I so as not to discuss the race and thereby endanger our relationship. Denise and I made it amicably through the election. Mrs. Chandler allowed me to place one of John Yarmuth's yard signs on her property, as she has done for me with other candidates I have supported, among them Ken Herndon, whose 2006 sign for re-election as the Jefferson County Judge/Executive also found a home in Mrs. Chandler's yard.

Over the years, I had done a few odd jobs for Mrs. Chandler including moving some furniture and mowing her lawn. But Mrs. Chandler made her mark in my book by her cooking. Knowing I was a bachelor, and admittedly not much of a cook, Mrs. Chandler would often call over to Denise's if my truck was in her driveway, asking if I had eaten or not. To be honest, Denise has fed me pretty well at her house, as she also has at home a 16 year old son, who is a star player on his high school football team, and thus requires a substantial amount of food which Denise readily maintains in her cupboard. Nonetheless, whenever Mrs. Chandler offered, I accepted, usually taking the food home in some container for later enjoyment. Rather like a corner diner, the take home meals consisted of an entree, fried chicken especially, and two or three veggies, one of which was always green beans, cooked with plenty of bacon fat, and a healthy dose of onions. Then, there was dessert. Cobblers, pies, and some cake, although I'm not a cake eater, I never turned any of it down.

One of Mrs. Chandler's sons, Todd, who is my age, is a driver for Louisville's sanitation department. Todd, Denise's son Marcus, and I once moved a large television set for Denise from Old Louisville to her house off 34th Street near New Zion Church. With Todd at the wheel, the trip was made as if on one of the Sanitation routes, through sides streets and alleys, as opposed to the main streets one would normally travel. I usually see Todd, as I did this year, at the McDonald's before the Martin Luther King motorcade begins each year on King's federal holiday, dressed to the nines.

I do not know what Mrs. Chandler did in her work life, if anything. I only knew her in retirement as the lady across the street from Denise, who could cook for an army. Her funeral is tomorrow at 11 a.m. at her church, King Soloman Baptist, 1620 Anderson Street. She will be buried in Green Meadows Cemetery.

On a different and unrelated note, yesterday I ranted some about America and its handling of immigrants, both legal and illegal. Today, I read a story, which I have linked below, which only makes me madder. We, that is, our country, which effectively is you, me, and the other 300 million souls who are residents of our sovereign Republic, have created a sort of holding prison in South Texas, where we house, sometimes for months and maybe years, illegals of non-Mexican heritage. These people are treated the same way as terrorists and murders. While agreeing they have entered illegally, this kind of treatment is wrong. I could go on, but I wont as it would require popping another blood pressure pill. Just read it for yourself.

Happy Ground Hog Day.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/02/01/AR2007020102238.html?nav=hcmodule