Monga drove (and treasured more than she did some people or even her diamond rings) a black '78 Cadillac Eldorado with white-walled tires, black leather interior, 8-track player, power everything, sunroof.
She was in love with a man not her husband who lived in Spokane. Frequently, we'd drive up there to see him--my Grandpa Lucky (his real name was Bruce. I don't even dare ask how he got the nickname)--my mom's dad. In the summer on these trips, Monga would open the sunroof and let us wave our hands in the air to "Jailhouse Rock". When we got older, we'd take off our shoes and stick our naked toes out into the wind.
Monga always "joked" that when she died, she wanted buried in the Cadillac--fill in the pool with dirt, her, and the Cadillac.
While Monga sat in the nursing home forgetting how to talk and eat, the Cadillac was sold and the pool removed; including the concrete framing the pool that held my infant handprint.
[handprint]
Jodie Anne
1974
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