The Begging Is The Hardest Part

Foreword to our readers, March 6 2019:

Your favorite blog now has a new title.

This blog started its life titled "My Sister Sashes." That being "my sister's ashes" with the apostrophe removed and the "s" pushed one space to the right. (That's her in her new forever home at the right of our banner, having made an ash of herself one last time.)

When MSS began to morph into an account of our sincere and monumental hatred for the city of Port Huron Michigan, Your Bloggers decided that, because Sis' story had run out of material, we needed a name change.  That's how writing works sometimes. The original title of "Mein Kampf" was "Four And a Half Years Of Struggle Against Lies, Stupidity, and Cowardice." Too long for a dust cover. 

Inspired by der Fuhrer, we came up with a new blog name: "Fourteen Months Of Struggle Against Port Huron Assholes, Fuckheads, Cat Ladies, Cunts, Liars, Faggots, Cowards, Pussies, And Snowflakes." Too wordy. It would never fit on a banner, and its URL would break a world's record.

Our next choice, "Fuck Off Port Huron Michigan" would probably get us removed from Google search results. 

We thought some more, and settled on "The I Hate Port Huron Michigan Blog."

In writing, short, sweet, and descriptive work best.  We shortened, sweetened, and came up with something descriptive that would fit on a banner and be searchable. We hope you like what you find in our pages. Bookmark us, and come back often. You may be offended -- actually, we're sure you'll be offended -- but we assure you this: you won't be bored.

And now, let's back up to when this all started; January 23 2018, over two years ago. Let the storytelling begin.

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My sister died on September 11 2017 (almost five months ago). I didn't find out until November 30. She was five years younger than me (two months away from 59) and the last living member of my immediate family circle (both parents gone, no other siblings). 

She died without a will but made arrangements to be cremated and have her ashes interred in the same plot with her (our) mother. More on that later.

The memorial service takes place on Friday, February 2 (ten days from today) at Flint Memorial Park in Clio (Michigan). The cemetery had been droppng hints. "Have you scheduled a service yet . . . . . . ?" They need the space for someone else's ashes, you understand, there's a need to keep the line moving even in the dead -- no pun intended -- of winter, and I've been stalling them until I can find transportation to the cemetery and back. 

So: Groundhog Day it is, date chosen because it can't be put off any longer. Now, all I need is a way to get there.

I spent all day yesterday (Mon Jan 22) BEGGING St. Clair County (Michigan) social service agencies tasked with filling such needs, for transportation to the service, and to her estate's probate lawyer's office in downtown Flint to pick up some family documents.


                              



After the first 45 or so minutes of BEGGING, it occurred to me that a narrative of said BEGGING might be an interesting read, especially since, every time I turn around, I'm reminded of what a great place St. Clair County Michigan is to grow old in, and the abundance of resources it offers to seniors.

However, with attention spans being what they are, I don't want to dump it all on You The Readers in one long post. So consider this the prologue of what I'm sure will be a fascinating and enlightening story.  

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Next: "Salvation Transportation"