Pat Henkelman

2005

I get up at five a.m. My son—he works as a prison guard—stops by for breakfast every morning. He usually wants Cream of Wheat or oatmeal. Then I say my morning prayers, take a bath and eat breakfast. After that, I clean houses. I come home and have lunch, usually a sandwich and a cup of green tea. I watch TV, usually CNN. Sometimes I take a nap.

In 1940, Harry and I were working at a bee factory in Harlan, and when I came back from lunch one day, he was filling my jars. That night we met at the county fair and had our picture taken, and that was that.

In 1985, after forty years of marriage, he left me for a another woman. I didn't know who the woman was, but everyone else in town knew. I would have felt better if she was young and beautiful, but she wasn't. They used to play euchre at the legion hall. My faith helped me get through. I don't have malice or anger. You have to forgive. For a while I thought I hated him. But that stopped.

Jesus died to suffer for our sins, but you're still responsible for the sins you commit. I think the instant you die, you step out of your body. You have to be perfect to go to heaven. If you're not you go to purgatory. I suppose some people like Mother Teresa might go directly to heaven, but almost everyone else goes to purgatory.

There used to be a hat store in town. I wish it still was here. I love hats.