The Walmart Saga

My respect for the elderly was deeply ingrained as a child. There's no way to politely walk away from an eighty-seven year old woman in Walmart with the scary ability to latch on like an octopus and force a twenty minute conversation upon my person. What exactly stood out about me that begged this woman to flag me down? Mums. Chrysanthemums. The kind that appear on my porch annually within the first week of September (because September 1st is reserved for hanging my fall wreath on the door-- and don't think I'm obsessive about my seasonal ornamentation, this only happens in September). But back to the mums, two small pots-- of the burnt orange and yellow varieties-- and they were chosen proudly by Paxton who had begged go along for the trip (something about being out of milk for two days and not trusting me to deliver and further impeded his desperate need for cereal). The dairy section of Walmart is where I was backed into a superfluous, one-sided conversation.
Here is what I learned from this little old lady with thinning white hair and oversized, cat-eyed sunglasses that were so dark I couldn't even make out her facial features.

1. Mums return every year, and if replanted will come back and multiply. I've never had this experience. I generally kill them (accidentally, of course), before December 1st. I was hoping she'd tell me how not to kill them, but it was a repeat of the comment "But they are hardy." Apparently, there's no helping me if I kill the hardiest plant (named a HARDY mum) known to man. 
2. She let me know that lilies were just as hardy, and the ones you get from the store at Easter-- EASTER LILIES (now I think she's questioning my intelligence since I obviously kill hardy mums) can be replanted as well. Her grandfather owned most of the county I live in and parts of two others and along the fence row to the home place were planted lilies. They came back every year. She always wanted to know what kind of lilies they were (I almost suggested the Easter variety but that's pushing the limits of what I would ever say respectfully to a woman of her age), but it was the Depression and she was six years old trying to feed her family. I stalled on the bit about being six... maybe I misheard her? But that was a time most people didn't experience childhood the way we think they should-- and it fits her mid-80s range of life. But the lilies. I should try lilies, she says, unless I think I'll kill them, too. (More than likely.)
3. She volunteered with the Optimist Club for 63 years and that's saying something since the organization is only 100, and she learned the value of sports. She pointed to Paxton and wanted to know if he was in sports yet. She informed me that boys not kept busy with sports ended up as drug addicts and he needs to get involved straight away. Oh, and not to let him play T Ball because that makes boys scared of the balls. He needs pitched baseball. Remember pitched or thrown balls keeps boys off drugs. They are too busy chasing the balls to be idle.
4. She and her husband had a good life, but then he got sick and died. She had to bury him in her coffin because they thought she would go first and hadn't bought his yet. And it's the fault of the Affordable Care Act and that President Obama. She didn't vote for him. She voted "Christian" unlike the people that voted for all the crap and ruined her life. I may have zoned out a bit after that. I'm always struck by how black and white people take life and use labels to identify an obvious conservative as the Christian vote and make the "others" fall into an evil category that borders on Satanic, as it's clearly the opposite, as liberals are bad. It's a long history.
5. Her health woes continued. I was desperate to move on. Paxton was agitated. He was speaking to me in full on burp sentences. "Let's gooooooo..." in burp is quite impressive and adamant.
6. She was adept at blocking my retreats and following me, her conversation never letting up as I attempted to maneuver myself away. We were blocking a good chunk of aisle that people were actively perusing. She has mad skills. I kept telling myself she was probably lonely and had no one to talk to. But seriously... twenty minutes. And I said nothing after I told her I killed mums, other than to nod and mmmhmmm noncommitally.
7. The girl who delivers my mail walked by me three times while the lady continued to drone on. I made eye contact and tried conversing with her, trying to give the old lady the hint that it's been fifteen minutes now.... But the mail girl didn't get the hint. She's dead to me now. I don't care how nerdy her shirt is when she delivers the mail tomorrow. I'll be wearing a plain t-shirt and there will be no geek out comparisons.
8. The old lady knows all about the medical system in northwest Arkansas and how bad it is. And her pacemaker is faulty. She KNOWS because she heard it from the physician that Vice President Dick Cheney (such a good man) saw when he was in office. She tried to switch to him, but that Affordable Care Act wouldn't let her switch doctors. He told her so.
9. I seriously need to learn how to politely make people stop talking. I don't even talk to people I like as much as these random people that assault my being with their verbosity.
10. I would shop somewhere else besides Walmart, but it's northwest Arkansas, and I do enjoy running into most people I know. It's just these people I don't know that are killing me slowly with unsought conversations. Maybe I should go at midnight.