Agnes Diggs

Picture of Agnes Diggs
Agnes Diggs
April 25, 1949 – Nov. 27, 2005

I loved her column and her imagination (which I felt was just as overactive as my own) and now she is gone.

Here’s to you, Agnes. I feel like I’ve lost a good neighbor.

So, there I was, being swept along in this herd of heifers who had dressed themselves to attract attention of any and all kinds. I have never seen so many Women wearing white dresses and no underwear in my life —- and I have lived in Los Angeles.

The issue of undress must be addressed,” July 27, 2003

One consolation for me is that my routine is so basic and uneventful that by now, if something is watching, it is grinding its teeth with boredom.

Inside that cash register, someone is watching,” Aug. 3, 2003

What is the deal on having food-scented soaps and candles in the bathroom? Chocolate-brownie-scented candles in the bathroom. How is your digestive system supposed to act when you’re signaling it on both ends?

Assault on the scent-ses is food for thought,” Aug. 23, 2003

I guess men are entitled to equal time with women. After all, the gamboling guys are no worse than the ad showing a girl wrestling a dispenser for a tampon.

Or the woman who is apparently out on a romantic date in a rowboat on a lake when the craft begins to sink. She conveniently —- and, amazingly, to me —- whips a 24-pack box out of her purse and uses one to plug the leak and save the day.

Now there’s a romantic setting. You, a gorgeous date and a bloated feminine product squishing at your feet.

Erectile dysfunction ads elicit horror, humor,” Mar. 27, 2004

Once, while on assignment, I tossed my purse down on a chair and moved away. A lady asked me, “Aren’t you afraid someone might grab it and run?”

No worries. First, I seldom carry money in it, other than the aforementioned change. And second, I believe it would be easy enough to find the perpetrator. Go directly to the nearest hospital emergency room and ask for a man who recently arrived stooped over and complaining of a severe hernia, and voila, we have our guy.

At home with her purse: Always room for one more,” Sept. 25, 2004

Well, laugh all you want to. But remember this:

There are three kinds of people in this world:

People who believe in werewolves.

People who don’t believe in werewolves.

And werewolves.

When the going gets scary, there are rules to be followed,” Oct. 30, 2004

And then there was the time another sales associate, who was apparently more interested in associating than making sales, stood chatting on the phone until a customer —- other than myself —- walked up. The clerk rushed over and offered to help the newcomer. I turned to the recent arrival and said, “Excuse me, would you do me a favor, please? Would you look to your right and see if there’s a tall, queen-sized black woman standing next to you?”

The Invisible Woman,” Jan. 3, 2005

Lord have mercy.

The Girl Scout cookies have arrived.

Judging by the rapidly growing pile of boxes on my desk, I must have said yes to everyone who asked me.

Cute kids bearing cookies – who can resist?,” Mar. 2, 2005

“You know, mom,” I said. “Just because I’m on my own doesn’t mean you can’t give your opinion about the things I tell you.”

“You’re grown,” she said. “You don’t need me to tell you anything.”

“It’s like this,” I said. “My life is like a corporation. I’m CEO now, but you’re not fired. I’m kicking you upstairs. You can be the President of the Board of Advisors. I expect to consult you on all important decisions. I’m the major stockholder, but I’ll always at least listen to your opinion.”

She was thoughtful for a long moment, then said, “When you get to Montreal, don’t share a room with (so-and-so,) and you stay with the group, you hear.”

I was tempted to laugh, wondering how she had held it in for so long.

“Yes ma’am,” I said. “I’ll be careful.”

Think twice before firing mom from your life,” May 4, 2005

Mindful that these concrete parking mazes are favorite hideouts for werewolves and vampires, I dug out my keys as soon as I got on the elevator.

As I walked toward the space where I had parked, the ceiling light over it promptly went off. Apparently, it was the kind that polices itself to conserve energy.

Or maybe that’s just what The Boogeyman wanted me to believe.

You say paranoia, I say vigilance,” May 16, 2005

Now remember, you’re talking to a person who firmly believes that camping out means staying in a hotel room with no coffee pot.

She decamps in the hunt for comfort,” June 4, 2005

Suddenly I was struck in the face with the equivalent of a horse’s tail.

I turned to my right in time to see a young blonde gathering her locks for another shot.

Running her fingers through her hair, she gathered strands in her fist, wound up her neck, flexed right and —– thwack. Pop goes the Agnes.

Public grooming’s a flipping nuisance,” July 23, 2005

I’m not saying it’s a bad thing to do.

It just looks funny, that’s all. And highly entertaining.

I can hardly wait for the trend of chest-bumping to gain popularity.

You can’t deep-six the high five,” Oct. 24, 2005

Suddenly this fool leaned into the open roof of the car and grabbed my purse. In front of a police station, no less.

Don’t ask me why, because I’m sure I don’t know —- I grabbed the front of his shirt and held on.

She powered through the gears and took off, with him flailing in the opening like a hooked trout. I was afraid to let go lest he fall and be killed by the oncoming traffic. I was angry, but not that angry.

She didn’t drive far. Just enough to have him hollering for his mama.

Darkness brings danger,” Nov. 7, 2005


Andrew Phelps
remembers Agnes.

Agnes’ LA Times obituary.

Is this a hug or am I being squashed like a bug? (a tribute by former coworker Scott Reeder)

10 Replies to “Agnes Diggs”

  1. Well, heck. She was funny. Never heard of her before. I wonder, does she have her writing compiled somewhere in a book-thingy?

  2. I don’t think she has one now, but maybe the newspaper will put something together for her, perhaps with the proceeds going toward a college scholarship in her name. Helping kids get into college was a big interest of hers.

    What breaks my heart, though, is this line in her obituary:

    Neither police nor newspaper officials have been able to confirm next of kin.

  3. What a great woman she was. I can see why you idolized her. You both are/were hilarious! Thanks for visiting my blog. I swear you are one ot the funniest bloggers I’ve seen so far. Oh, and BTW: You’ve been tagged. Mmmwhaaahahahahahaha

  4. Wow, I knew who she was, but I hadn’t read anything by her in a year or so. I’m sorry that she’d gone! It’s just by accident that I caught this post….I’ve got to put you on my Blogarithm list. I thought I did it before, but I’m braindead.

  5. Thank you, Bonnie, for this poignant memorial. I appreciate anytime a journalist, or any writer, is remembered for posterity.

  6. Those of us in Massachusetts are just finding out that Agnes is gone. Everyone who knew her here has fond memories of her. Unfortunately, she only kept sporadic contact with us. The last time I saw her was at her mother’s funeral.

    She turned me on to black & white movies. We would watch them back-to-back for hours! And, she made the best lemonade! This is uncanny…two nights ago, I was reframing a drawing I made years ago which she wrote the prose for. We thought we were going into the card business then. I guess that was her message to me…The title is “Triste.”

  7. Agnes was a dear friend during her time in Atlanta. We watched countless hours of ALF and Star Trek: TNG and laughed over the phone as if we were sitting on the couch side-by-side. She had a thunderous laugh and wit that should have been on the stage. When she moved away, we lost contact, but I thought of her often and smiled. I was just watching an episode of ALF and wanted to find her tonight and laugh. Facebook search resulted nothing. If anyone would be on Facebook, Agnes would surely be there dispensing her wisdom to her friends. When I did not find her there, my heart sank and broader search to the web made my heart sink at the thought that I would discover news of a different sort. My heart is aching over this discovery that she is gone. Now I must live with the memory of her laughter and broad smile and wipe the tears. I hate i waited this long to find her, but glad she was once my friend.

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