Went to the funeral home this evening, and it was a surprisingly healthy atmosphere with plenty of wonderful stories about Dolores from various eras of her life. There was even a photo of her at my house on one occasion when J.B. decided to check her out. He's sitting on her leg, and both have these startled looks on their faces.
It reminded of me a wonderful story she told of life back in the days when she shared an apartment with three other young girls. It was during WWII, and she was taking business classes. She had taught school for a year, but back then, women teachers could not be married and she didn't want to be an old maid, so she turned her attentions to shorthand. Anyway, whenever the phone at her apartment rang, she would answer it with the following: "Hello, this is heaven. Which of the angels would you like to speak with?"
