on the home front by peggy mason 1617 lee road 12, …
TRANSCRIPT
ON THE HOME FRONT
byPeggy Mason
1617 Lee Road 12, Lot 125Auburn, AL 36832
Phone: 334-209-1179
2
Hearing Them Fight
Ma and Peggy put finishing touches on cleaning the kitchen after supper,
ending by sweeping the bare pine floor and putting out clean towels. They worked
in silence, listening, yet not wanting to hear the argument going on upstairs.
***************
A Couple Disagrees
“Mobile?! No way were you going to Mobile to work when the mill was
begging for hands.”
“Mobile was begging, too. There was plenty of boys my age from here went
there.”
“Well, you’re no boy. You’re 25 years old with a wife and child. I work in
the mill. Why can’t you work in the mill?”
“The same reason my daddy didn’t. We’re Masons, not Buckners, and the
only thing that’s gonna get me to cross that river is a boat to check my trot line.”
Margie pretended to ignore his insult. “You’re frolicking around with that
boat when you could be bringing home money. We need lots of things.”
That was true, Margie thought. Her husband did have fun with his boat,
though he rarely ever caught fish, just as his hunting trips seldom netted any
quarry. Since he had lost his eye building a birdhouse, the depth perception was
3
affected. A nail he had been driving shattered and a fragment flew through his
right eye. That’s why everyone was so surprised the day he came home from a
turkey shoot sporting a tom and a hen.
“I want my own house,” Margie was now yelling into Ben’s face.
“What will it take to make that happen? Ben was calm in his question.
Margie didn’t hesitate. “Find a job,” her voice exploded.
“Wait a minute, Margie. If you hadn’t kept me from going to Mobile, we
might have a good start on a house to ourselves. You ought to let me go where I
want.”
Margie’s feet hit the floor as she quickly came to her feet. “I want you here
with us where you are supposed to be,” she screamed.
“Supposed to be, supposed to be,” Ben mocked. “Everything with you is
supposed to be.”
“That’s right,” Margie’s voice was sure. “I know better than you what to
do.”
“If you know better, then why did Pa have a heart attack and die listening to
you yell at me about our turkeys?”
Margie’s steps were heavy and fast as she crossed to the corner of the room
and grabbed Ben’s shotgun.
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Then Ben’s voice, “Stop!”
BAM! The shotgun fired.
***************
Ben Storms Out
Peggy moved like lightning to her parents’ room. She stood in the open
doorway and watched sheet rock dust from the ceiling settle onto her mother’s
cedar chest at the foot of the bed. Her mother stood at one side still holding the
shotgun pointing upwards, eyes now closed and breaths coming heavy from her
heaving chest.
Until Ma came running into the room, Peggy stood stock still. Ben reached
for the shotgun, taking it from Margie and then releasing it to Ma. As Ma held the
gun, Peggy went to her mother. She reached around her mother’s hips and held
her face close as tears of terror mixed with sadness to see her mother shaking and
the huge hole in the ceiling. Peggy couldn’t stop crying. Then Margie started
crying, and they both hugged each other and cried for a long time.
“Peggy, go back to your room, honey. Your mama is all right,” Ma told
Peggy.
Peggy heard her father’s truck leaving. She knew he was alone and that he
would be back sooner or later. Old for her years, Peggy saw into her parents’
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struggles. She knew her mother would soon fall asleep as much to prepare for
tomorrow as to escape the nightmare of her relationship with her husband.
Waiting for sleep to come, Peggy thought about tomorrow and how she would
help Ma in the garden. Just before falling asleep, she heard her father’s call above
the wind. It was an owl-like whistle, deep and hollow, that Peggy recognized as a
signal of his presence nearby. With this comfort, the little girl drifted off to sleep.
***************
A Mother-in-Law Wonders
Peggy’s 58-year-old grandmother, Ma as she was called, stood at the open
back door and watched her granddaughter sitting on the doorstep smearing her
only pair of shoes with a piece of biscuit left over from breakfast. In the early
spring sun, the patent leather gleamed greasy, black and shiny as a wet watermelon
seed. Satisfied with the shine the biscuit gave her shoes, the eight-year-old
stretched as she stood and walked through the dry dust of the back yard. The gloss
faded from her shoes and their buckles dangled unfastened about her ankles as she
trotted slowly through the garden toward the barn.
On this Saturday morning Ma went to the kitchen window facing the barn, a
glow on the window sill from an already blazing sun streaming through the trees.
She looked out over fields that were backed first by thickly overgrown woods and
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then an old growth mixture of hardwood and pine. It was the edge of those woods
where Peggy was headed. Ma knew this as sure as anything. She knew Peggy
would not stop at the oak tree swing between the garden and the chicken house
near the barn. Ma found herself wishing she were not so right about what Peggy
would do. It had been too long since the little girl had played with abandonment
and enjoyment. Since Pa died, nothing was the same, though. Tensions were high
in the diminished household of four, and Ma realized that times would be
unsettled until ....
“Until what?” she said to the dishpan. “Ain’t nothing going to bring Pa
back, and he’s the only one could have made Ben build a coop for them turkeys.”
Ma remembered how she had waited in vain for Pa to return to his usually
productive activity the months before he died.
***************
Margie Wonders
“Who are you talking to, Ma?” asked Peggy’s mother, Margie, looking
around the kitchen as she walked in. She probably won’t answer, Margie thought
as she reached into the bag of dried apples hanging on the back of the wood stove.
“Here, smell these,” Margie offered Ma her hands. “Let’s make some pies
for tomorrow.” Holding her cupped hands near Ma’s face, Margie examined Ma’s
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profile.
“Where’s Peggy?” Margie asked.
“Where’s Ben would be more like it.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Margie’s impatience registered in her voice.
“How would I know where he is? He never tells me anything. You’re the one
ought to know where he is. You’re the only one he ever talks to around here.”
Margie’s large, bony hands pressed outward in fists from inside her apron’s
lacy pockets. Jaw clenched, she tried to calm herself in her mother-in-law’s
presence, and found herself staring out the kitchen window with Ma, eyes fixed on
the part of the road that could be seen from the window, the place they had last
seen Ben leaving in his GMC the night before.
“Last night should not have happened,” Ma was even in her tone.
Margie kept quiet. She knew what was coming and so she sat at the table
with her chin in her hands, waiting for the lecture she had heard many times since
marrying Ben. Here it comes, she thought. Here it comes for the ten thousandth
time.
***************
A Mother-in-Law’s Advice
“Margie,” Ma paused and turned around to face Margie, drying her hands.
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“Margie,” Ma repeated, “Peggy needs you and she needs Ben, too. I want you to
try and be more patient with Ben. You both behave like children sometimes. You
have to realize this and be more mature. It isn’t right for you to expect so much of
him. He wants peace around here and you won’t give him any. Why, you never
let up on him, not even for one day. You can’t criticize him like you do. He’s
different from you. Let him alone and he won’t keep leaving like this. And you
won’t keep having to wonder where he goes and where he spends the night.”
Margie and Ma looked at each other. Ma was hoping the woods, and
Margie was hoping the truck. Margie would never have thought of Ben sleeping
in woods at night. No one ever did that, according to her, and it just never would
have occurred to her civilized way of thinking. The flock of two generations of
turkeys leaving the yards and gardens to move to the nearby woods made sense to
Margie, and brought a lot of relief, but she would not guess that her husband was
roughing it at a makeshift campsite in the woods. Margie thought of him sleeping
in the truck somewhere up the road.
But Ma had guessed correctly. She knew her son, and she knew that Margie
did not. Ma had heard Ben’s whistling call the night before as Peggy had, and she
knew that he had taken to the woods.
The kitchen grew quieter.
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“What’s on your mind now, Margie”?
In the silence Ma knew Margie thought about her own need to have a
husband be recognizable. To Margie, all men should be domesticated like her
own brothers, yet she tried to keep her side of the family out of her problems with
Ben.
“He won’t work. Why won’t he get a job in the mill? It ain’t right he won’t
get a job in the mill. We need money for lots of things.”
Ma was quick to answer. “He misses Pa, Margie, and he’s not found
himself yet. He’s still young and it will take a while for him to decide what he
wants to do. There’s the war that he wants to serve in but he can’t because of his
one eye. You ought to know that.”
“No,” Margie was adamant. “That’s not it. He hates me.”
“Is that why you shot last night”?
“I don’t know. I feel like shooting now. He makes me so mad I could
scream.”
“Well, you don’t know nothing about shooting, and you needn’t have shot
that gun off and scared Peggy so bad.”
Margie knew Ma was right about that. Margie hated guns. She hated lots
of things these days, just like Ben did. And she had let her temper fly the night
10
before.
“Well, I do know this much. I am sick and tired of Ben blaming me for Pa
dying.”
“He don’t really blame you for that. He just misses Pa, that’s all. That’s
why he let the turkeys roost on the porch. They kept him company in some odd
way.”
Margie gave a slight start at Ma’s mention of the turkeys and immediately
tried to think of something else.
Ma noticed Margie’s reaction. “Come on, Margie, let’s soak a few of those
apples for some fried pies. They will be good when Pastor Jerry comes. I invited
him for dinner tomorrow.”
***************
Newly Hatched Poults
Peggy cut through the barn to the corn field back of it, amazed once again at
the growth of the plants. Only four weeks back she had helped plant that field on
her family’s subsistence farm, stepping off each row – three seeds, step, step, three
seeds, step, step.
In the ten minute walk across the field, she gazed ahead, squinting to bring
the woods line into focus at the lower underbrush. Her bronze ponytail swayed
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and bobbed as she cut through the field. When a foot slipped from her unbuckled
and now dusty shoe, she recovered her balance and settled into a familiar rhythm,
stepping wide around the three-inch high corn blades.
As Peggy neared the woods at the back of the field, she began to hurry,
barely able to contain her excitement. Approaching her destination, she slowed
her pace, now tiptoeing to the nest of eggs that was hatching in the soft sunlight of
the brush that hid them. Peggy stretched out on her stomach and brought the nest
into view through the broom sedge. She had been right about this activity.
Yesterday when she approached it, she had judged that hatching would occur the
next day and had moved on to another nest nearby. Slowly the young turkeys
pecked their way into the world, rolling wetly onto the broken shells of their first
home, stirring only a little at first, their beaks opening and closing, yellow and
glistening, their eyes bulging and half-lidded. Peggy imagined them grown and
strutting around, gobbling back at her under the trees in the yard when she
gobbled at them, balancing on the rails of the porch, and flying, swoosh, up into
the fruit trees at the edge of the orchard.
Every day for the past week Peggy had found a nest hatching. Ma had told
her that the hatching would probably end in a few weeks and had let her go by
herself to the edge of the woods to watch the nests. But Ma had told Peggy not to
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go into the woods alone.
When Peggy first heard steps in the woods behind the nest, she thought it
was the mother hen keeping her distance while a visitor was present. Then when
Ben stepped into view, Peggy was at once startled and relieved.
“Daddy!” Peggy whispered excitedly. “Here’s a nest hatching. Keep real
quiet.”
Together Peggy and her father witnessed the nest that was now a brood of
drying and fluffy young poults. Peggy and Ben moved away from the nest and
stood talking near the edge of the field.
“Daddy, it wasn’t Mama’s fault Pa died. It was mine. I was tired of Mama
yelling at me to get out there in the yard and shoo the turkeys out of the garden
and off the porch. So I asked Pa to do something with the turkeys. I wish I hadn’t
now, because he died the next day. I almost didn’t ask him.”
“No, Peggy, it ain’t your fault and it ain’t mine. You were right to see if Pa
could do something. I could have done something myself if I hadn’t been so mad
at your mama.”
“Don’t say ‘ain’t.’ It’s ‘isn’t’, Daddy,” Peggy remembered her work in
language at school. Peggy also remembered her mother now and began to feel the
way she had felt before she approached Pa about the turkeys. What would happen
13
if she questioned her daddy about her mother’s wishes? She realized that it was
something she had to do.
“Daddy, it wasn’t Mama’s fault either.”
“Well, it was her trying to make me leave the place and go to the mill with
her every day that I couldn’t stand any more. All she cares about is if I’m working
or not. She won’t take time. She won’t wait. To her everything is win or lose.
Go to work or be lazy. This or that. Take for instance this nest and the one
pecking through. In a few minutes you will hear a cheep out of it. To your mama,
that cheep means one thing – feed me. But I know what that cheep really means.
It means where are you out there. I just wish your mama would look at me one
time and wonder how I am feeling instead of what I am doing.”
Peggy tried to digest her father’s comments. So much was puzzling about
her parents’ relationship. “When I get grown, I’ll go with Mama to work. Ma said
for me to help my Mama.”
They stood for another moment at the edge of the woods. Peggy squinted as
she looked expectantly into her father’s face. It took a while, but then Ben gently
smiled. He left towards the road, saying, “I’ll see you at home.”
***************
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Ben Recalls the Turkey Shoot
Ben had parked his truck on the side of the road right before the creek
bridge. It was near there that he slept the night in the woods near his truck. He
kept blankets and a flashlight in the truck for such occasions, which were
becoming more and more frequent as arguments with his wife arose. Only a half-
mile hike from the creek to the part of the woods where the turkeys were nesting,
his walk to the truck now took only a few minutes. As he walked through the
woods, he thought about Margie shooting his shotgun the night before. He
thought about how much Margie had changed from the happy girl he had married.
He had loved her positive spirit and her abundant energy when they courted and
decided to marry, expecting no problems to occur between them.
Now there was a world of problems.
He recalled the turkey shoot just before Thanksgiving two and a half years
ago. He remembered the tie-breaking shoot-off and his last shot. He recalled how
he had thought of Pa while trying to aim down the barrel with his good left eye
and holding the rifle against his right shoulder. Watching the target, he believed
he would miss, but he would try to get the shot with everybody watching, some
laughing. He contorted his neck to see the target, some of the locals in there with
him, knowing of his situation at home with Pa. Ben remembered a mixture of
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feelings of not caring what they thought, and then caring too much. The blur of
the target swirled and cleared, swirled and cleared. He felt the wind on his face as
it tossed his dark brown hair around. He couldn’t forget about Pa’s lack of
concern for the farm these days as he sat glued to war news on television. Ben
worried over Pa’s casual attitude about cotton yields, and just last week Pa letting
the sweet potatoes freeze when he usually moved them to cover for the winter, and
the incomprehensible act of Pa burning their books one afternoon after news that
more troops were being sent to Iraq, even the local National Guard unit, and Ma
watching helplessly from the kitchen window as their combined family library
went up in smoke.
Ben’s neck and shoulders almost cramped as he, then almost stooping, tried
to get a bead on the bull’s eye, taking his time. He remembered that he had
imagined a squirrel sitting on a stump and then imagined a dove perched on a
bough, not moving, and he had thought of how his own talks with Ma always
somehow put things into perspective. Then he had fired, expecting a miss, and
now remembering how he saw the bull’s eye erupt and that he had won the
turkeys.
In his truck now, Ben turned it around in the middle of the road, backing
once, then driving forward and passing his Ma’s place, he kept driving toward
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town. He had an idea.
**********
A Plan That Just Might Work
Margie and Ma were sitting in the kitchen when Ben came in. Both of the
women stood and walked toward him as he entered – Margie to examine him
closely and Ma to hug him hello.
“This is for you, Margie.” Ben set something onto the counter top. “I
bought a license today to open a cabinet shop here.”
Ma and Margie were stunned. They looked at the new electric Sunbeam
mixer sitting on the counter with its clear glass bowl and shiny mixer blades, its
cord neatly wound, and next to it this year’s business license.
No one spoke for a long time. Then Margie heard Ben say, “I know how
much you like to cook.”
With that, Margie smiled at Ben with relief. “I think I’ll look for my lane
cake recipe now.”
Ben returned her smile, but only briefly. “Margie, when you say you want a
house for us, I know you mean you just want us to be happy.”
“Yes,” said Margie.
And Ma then reached for the place where she kept their recipes.
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***************
Rainy Afternoon
That afternoon a steady downpour battered the tin roof and streamed down
the windowpanes, puddling the yard and garden, and settling the spirits of the
household after the previous night of violence. An atmosphere of security now
prevailed – each family member quiet, yet busy.
Peggy worried about the poults until Ma reassured her that the mother hens
would cover the nests with their wings. This settled Peggy down to concentrate on
chores in the house. She dusted her bookcase and then the dresser where she kept
a brush and comb next to a blue painted cigar box. Inside the box were a stack of
letters given to her by Ma, letters written almost 150 years ago by Pa’s father to
his family while he was a confederate soldier. Peggy treasured these letters and
sometimes read them over and over. She gently dusted the box they were in.
Then she changed the sheets on her bed, swept the bare pine floor, and put all the
laundry in the big hall hamper for Monday’s wash. Peggy enjoyed having a room
of her own, especially one with a window that looked out over the garden at the
back of the house where she and Ma would go early every morning on clear days
to check on things. They would weed a few rows before returning to the house. It
was her garden chores that Peggy plunged into with the greatest satisfaction. Just
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before lunchtime, when Peggy was not in school, Ma would send her back to the
garden alone to gather a few tomatoes, onions, and radishes for the relish tray. On
these summer days Peggy would feel the loose sandy loam of the garden warm her
bare feet as she walked between the rows uprooting onions and shaking the soil
loose from their white, wiry roots.
***************
Margie Sewing
All that rainy afternoon Margie worked on her new dress. It had been a
chore to cut it out. With dotted Swiss, she had to make certain the grain ran the
right direction for all the pattern pieces, a pattern Margie had designed herself.
Sewing it was a breeze, Margie always said; the cutting out part was tedious.
Margie was glad to have a project to work on. It kept her to herself and she could
think seriously about what Ben had done buying that business license. She was
studying all angles of this new development and couldn’t get over the feeling that
Ben had escaped from work once again. She couldn’t say anything against it,
though, not now. At least her husband was trying to do something to bring in an
income. She buried her face in the direction of her dress, the sewing machine
mechanisms whirring with the sound of the rain.
***************
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Boat for Sale
Ben put a “for sale” sign on his boat and pulled it around to the front of the
house and parked it near the road. He was soaked through as he stood
momentarily in the downpour to survey the boat and sign. Satisfied, he walked to
the front porch and shook himself off. Then he whistled a little, opened the front
door, and entered the house. It was a good Saturday – rain for the crops and the
well, Margie at peace for a while, Peggy and Ma busy together. He wished it
would last. He went to his tool box in the hall closet, hoping he would be able to
repair the bedroom ceiling without a discussion of it. Ben was a lot like Pa had
been when it came to words. Neither could abide conversing about something
they found unpleasant.
***************
Ma Cooks for Pastor Jerry
Ma folded rolled-out dough circles over two spoons of cooked dried apples,
making a half moon to fry. She was glad her wood box was full of dry wood for
the meals she had planned for today and tomorrow. Resting on the back burner of
her wood-burning stove was a huge caldron of steaming water, something she kept
going all day. Her house had been built by Pa but they had never installed a hot
water heater. The water on her wood stove was for cleaning the dishes, the bare
20
floors, and for bathing. For their baths, the members of her family would fetch a
kettle or two of steaming hot water from Ma’s cauldron on the stove and pour into
the bathtub. This utilitarian way of life was kept organized by Ma. She saw to it
that her family had all they needed and were healthy in body and soul. Ma just
wished she could have gotten through to Pa before he died, so that he could have
died peacefully. It could have been worse, she told herself. He could have lost his
mind completely. Ma remembered Pa’s funeral and the crowd that gathered for it.
Pastor Jerry knew that Pa kept his beliefs to himself, but he gave a Christian
funeral service anyway, and for this Ma would forever be grateful. On Sunday,
she would thank him again when he came to sit down to Sunday dinner.
***************
Pastor Jerry Comes Calling
“He’s here,” Ma heard Peggy announce. Ma set a white glass bowl of fresh
English peas on the table next to the tray of deviled eggs. The table already
contained a large platter of lemon baked chicken, a huge bowl of mashed potatoes,
some cole slaw made from fresh cabbage picked out of the garden, a relish tray of
fresh onions and pickled beets and cucumbers, a large jug of buttermilk, and an
iron skillet of cornbread. The pies were on a plate keeping warm at the kitchen
stove.
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“Your ears are always perked, aren’t they, Miss Peggy?” Ma teased as she
patted her face with the corner of her apron. Up since dawn, Ma’s Sunday
morning chores had taken her to the chicken yard to gather the freshest eggs, then
to the garden to see if the cabbage loopers had attacked the greens patch after the
rain. She had spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen cooking with the radio
tuned in to her nephew, Cousin Bob McKinnon, and his gospel show on the Alex
City station. Once in a while Cousin Bob would play “Peace in the Valley” and
dedicate it to his aunt down in Tallassee. This delighted Ma, almost as much as
hearing Pastor Jerry call her by her first name, Emma.
It bothered Ma that her family did not attend church, though she had come
to accept it. Pa hadn’t attended, either. So she would go occasionally herself, but
mostly on Sunday mornings she listened to Cousin Bob preach on the radio and
spin his gospel songs.
Ma greeted Pastor Jerry with a happy hello, opening the door before he had
a chance to knock. It pleased her that the single pastor was a favorite with her
entire household. Even Ben, who disdained usual church-going, as Pa had done,
enjoyed Pastor Jerry’s company.
“And hello to all of you.” The pastor took off his hat as he wiped his feet
thoroughly on the braided mat at the door. His long yellow hair, combed to one
22
side, flopped onto this prominent forehead. Tucked behind his ears, shiny golden
locks trailed about his shoulders.
After a hearty handshake from Ben, Pastor Jerry put his hat on the mantle.
He rested his hands on his hips in a proprietary posture, as he always did when in
the company of his flock, then surveyed the room, catching Margie’s eye, and he
asked her how she was doing. “Not working too hard, I trust.”
Margie lowered her eyes. “Yes, I’m working hard.”
“I hear the mill is going to six days soon. Will you be able to handle that?
Seems like a lot of hours for a homemaker and mother to put in.”
Margie loved being called a homemaker and a mother. She dreamed of
spending her entire days at home. Usually resenting the grueling mill work, today
she could accept her job with equanimity, now that Ben had surprised her with
plans to open a cabinet shop.
“Six days won’t be too much, not with all of us working.” Margie looked
directly at Ben.
Pastor Jerry noticed the piercing look Margie had given Ben. “Just find the
time for a day of rest, Margie.”
“And that’s today,” Ma patted her face with the corner of her apron. “The
table is ready and we are all standing around in here. Why don’t we all sit down to
23
the table.” She led them into the dining room.
“What’s new with our little adult? Have you learned all your multiplication
tables this year, Peggy?” The pastor stood with his hands on the back of one of
the table chairs.
“Oh, Pastor Jerry, that was last year. Now I’m learning fractions.”
“Sit here, Pastor,” Ma gestured a place at the table. “The rest of us will take
our usual seats.”
Margie sat next to Ben, Ma at one end of the table, and Pastor Jerry next to
Peggy opposite Margie and Ben. They all noticed at the same time that Ma had set
a place at the head of the table that now remained empty as they all sat.
“That’s to remind us of Pa,” Ma explained. “Either him or someone in the
war. Maybe even for a homeless, hungry person, if there is one around. I saw one
pass on the road the other day.”
Ben shook his head. “That was old man Barrow. I saw him, too, but I don’t
think he will be stopping here. He knows how I feel about him coming around.”
“Let’s just say it’s for Pa, then.” Ma smiled. “Will you turn thanks,
Pastor?”
“Thank you, God, for clearing our minds so that we can hear you. Thank
you for planting the seed of our brother Jesus on this earth to teach us that we are
24
called to hear your will, and thank you that we have learned that your will for us is
love – a loving thought for all your people, and a peaceful homeland free from war
and hunger of any kind. Take this food, grown on this precious little farm and
prepared by these diligent hands that it may nourish us and bring us closer to you.
Amen.”
As Pastor Jerry helped himself to a large serving of mashed potatoes, Ma
decided to bring up Pa’s funeral again. “Pa wouldn’t have minded it a bit, Pastor,
you preaching like you did as we buried him.”
“Well, Emma, Ben had found his own personal Pentecost right here on this
little farm. This farm and his family brought him to a place of peace as much as
any upper room. He gave birth to the Christ he knew, his real world of cotton and
corn, orchards and sugarcane, all grown with expertise and devotion.” Pastor
Jerry took a bite of a chicken wing.
“How do you spell penny-cost?” asked Peggy.
“Pen-te-cost,” pronounced Jerry as he spelled it for Peggy.
“What is it?” Peggy was full of questions and comfortable about asking
Pastor Jerry what she wanted to know.
“According to the Book of Acts, it was a time when the Christ Mind in the
presence of Mary received the Holy Spirit. To understand the Holy Spirit, think of
25
Him as the part of you that recognizes love and keeps peace happening. Your
grandpa may not have been a churchgoer, but he had a lot of love about him.”
Ben remembered then how mockingbirds would light on Pa’s shoulders as
he snoozed under the pecan trees. It was amazing how Pastor Jerry made Ben feel
and think the best of things.
“Yes, he did,” Ma picked up on Jerry’s observation of Pa. “Sometimes I
think he was a better Christian than I am.”
“He was a way-of-life Christian,” Pastor Jerry said. “Since he didn’t have a
name for our Lord, I don’t think it hurt the body of Christ, which is the human
race, for him to occupy himself with his life here on this farm in a way that was
exemplary.”
“Yeah, except for the last two months of his life,” Ma agreed. “Remember
the book burning?”
The pastor indeed remembered. He had called on the family often during
those times. “Something did go wrong in that big old head of his there toward the
end. What all did you lose in that fire?”
Ben, eating in silence, decided to speak up. “We lost a complete set of
encyclopedias and a history of the world in three volumes.”
“And our dictionary,” said Peggy.
26
“And all of my own Pa’s family Bibles,” Ma recalled. “We lost those, too.
We were all too afraid to stop him. He acted like he knew what he was doing, but
of course, he was out of his head.”
“Pass the peas,” Ben raised his voice a notch, anxious to get the talk going
in another direction, but it didn’t work.
Ma couldn’t let it go. “It was like he was saying that all the work we had
done all our lives amounted to nothing with the war escalating and our boys
involved in conflict on foreign soil. I never saw war reports affect anyone so.”
Pastor Jerry looked at Ben. “It will end, but when is the question.”
Ben was glad the talk turned to the war. “ How can we police every country
in turmoil?”
“Our job is to help them more with humanitarian aid, but our leaders took us
there to confront terrorism. That’s how we got caught up in it,” said the pastor.
“Let’s pray that our leaders will take us out of there. I wrote a letter to the
president after Pa died,” said Ma. “I suggested giving Arizona to the Israelis as a
new Holy Land. I imagine he gets lots of letters.”
Ben couldn’t help rolling his eyes at Ma’s revelation. He was used to
having her problem-solving nature at work, but this was the first he had known of
her suggestion to the President. He decided to let the point drop for now.
27
“Speaking of letters, Peggy, why don’t we read one of your great-grandpa’s letters
after dinner. You still have them somewhere don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Can I get them now, Ma”?
“Let’s have dessert first and then we can sit in the living room and you can
read then.”
Ma served the fried apple pies and poured a fresh glass of buttermilk for
everyone. Pastor Jerry ate three fried pies and said they were better than ever.
Margie tried to think of a way to bring up Ben’s idea of starting a cabinet
shop there on the place but it was too new, and too close to Friday night when she
had fired his gun in anger at the ceiling. She was embarrassed at what she had
done, and so she kept quiet and hoped Ben would bring up his shop idea
somehow. She wanted the pastor’s reaction to the home business Ben had
planned.
Once in the living room, they all relaxed into comfortable chairs, Margie
and Ben in Ma’s green wing backs, Peggy and Pastor Jerry on the sofa. Ma sat on
the settee by the door. Peggy presented the blue cigar box of letters to the pastor.
“Let’s read the one he wrote to his daughter, Rhoda,” suggested Peggy.
“It’s on top.”
Pastor Jerry opened the box. “Sure. Here it is. You read, Peggy.”
28
Peggy cleared her throat and read softly but distinctly. She knew this letter
well, as it was her favorite, and she felt happy to be reading it to her family and to
Pastor Jerry:
“January 23rd, 1863. Bristol, Tennessee. My Darling Daughter, I seat
myself this evening to answer your Ma’s written over a month ago. We are still
marching often and most days are filled with waiting for the enemy to show. We
have engaged the yankees only once in ten months as our duty is to protect the gap
that leads through these mountains. We are camped at the foot of a steep range
and march from one end of the gap to the other most every week.
“Rhoda, you are fast passing from childhood to womanhood, and as you
grow in age and size, I hope you will try to improve in wisdom and prudence that
you may be a source of pleasure and comfort to your friends and usefulness to
yourself. Do all you can to help your Ma with your little brothers and sisters. Tell
Billy he must learn to write and write to Pa and tell me all about how many birds
he has caught this winter. There are a great many things he could tell me that I
would like to know about the sheep and the calves and the pigs.
“I have no hope of getting to go see you all soon and you have no idea how
bad I want to see you all. Kiss Ma, sisters and brothers and let them kiss you in
return for me, and all be assured of the love of your father, Ben Mason.”
29
They all sat in silence after Peggy read the letter.
Finally Pastor Jerry broke the silence: “A letter from the first Ben Mason,
now read by the third Ben’s daughter. Life does cycle for us, doesn’t it?”
“And to think,” said Ma, “I got these letters away from Pa just as he tried to
add them to his bonfire.”
Ben wished Ma wouldn’t keep bringing Pa’s last living days into the
conversation. It had not been a pretty picture and didn’t do much for the family to
have to remember how Pa had gone downhill so fast mentally. Ben thought back
to the day before Pa died. He remembered them watching together the war reports
on television news, how he and Pa had sat not talking, focusing on the newsman
telling them of renewed bombings and death and destruction. Pa had eased up
from his chair and reached for his fiddle that always lay beside the clock on the
mantle. “Good,” Ben had thought. “Pa’s going to play some and we can forget all
about the war.” But Pa had then placed his fiddle into its case and slid it closed
under the sideboard. “Send some hippies to talk to those terrorists,” Pa had said.
Ben wanted to put his father’s deterioration out of his mind. He looked at
the pastor. “I might have a cabinet shop soon.”
“Going out on your own, are you, Ben? Well, you know, following the
world’s pattern is one of the causes of anxiety. Going your own way is an
30
admirable thing to do. I think a cabinet shop would be needed out here in the
county. I can think of two or three things I would need you for right now. Let me
know when you are up and running.”
Pastor Jerry retrieved his hat from the mantel and bid the family adieu,
hugging Ma, and pausing to reach out to Margie with both hands. “Bring Peggy
and Ben one Sunday, Margie. You have a fine family here and you would make a
great addition to our little congregation.”
He handed Ben a card he pulled out of one of his pockets. It said, Thinking
Minds Love, Life’s Disciples, 1617 Lee Road 12 (turn left off Wire Road at the
blinking yellow light). On the back he had scribbled a phone number, even though
there was no phone in Ma’s house. Ben handed the card to Margie.
Ma and Peggy waved from the door and watched until Pastor Jerry’s car
was out of sight.
“You read your great-grandpa’s letter so well, Peggy,” Mas was quick to tell
her grand-daughter. She realized Peggy had been out of the conversation when
she had brought Pa back up. It was not easy for Ma to stop talking about Pa. They
had shared 28 years of married life and he had been her reason for living many
days. She had adored him and respected him for the way he went about his life,
even though he was close-mouthed about many things. Ma had tried to get her
31
husband to talk more about himself, but he would just shrug and pull her ear in a
gesture of tenderness, and that would be enough for Ma. She missed him deeply,
especially when she was around Pastor Jerry. Ma knew the pastor understood her
feelings.
Peggy appreciated Ma’s compliment. She went to her grandmother and
hugged her around the waist, burying her head in Ma’s chest for a moment.
“Ma, what does prudence mean?” Peggy’s penchant for words kept her
family and teachers supplying her with spellings, pronunciations, and definitions.
She made E’s in language as well as in the other subjects in her 4th grade class.
With Ma’s influence reading to her and teaching her, Peggy had skipped second
grade.
“Oh, I guess it means common sense. It means knowing when to do
something and when not to do something.”
“Would you really let old man Barrow sit at Pa’s place, Ma”? asked Peggy.
“Why, Peggy, of course I wouldn’t. I didn’t mean him. Just the idea that
there are hungry people in this world.”
“That old man scares me. He always stares up this way when he walks by.”
“Don’t worry about old man Barrow, Peggy. He means no harm to us. He
might pass by on the road but he knows not to come up here on the place.
32
“By the way, Peggy, don’t you think it’s about time we got ourselves a new
dictionary? Let’s look in the catalog and see if we can find one after we clean the
dishes.”
***************
Bookmobile
Spring was soon summer with June bugs droning about the fig trees by the
chicken house. Early each morning Ma’s red rooster signaled the new day, and
hens cackled off and on in the chicken yard when eggs were laid in soft hay nests.
Butterflies floated over purple and white blossoms of the petunia beds, their wings
opening and closing as they drank the sticky, sweet nectar. At the mailbox red
verbena bloomed along the roadside. Long stretches of silence prevailed around
Ma’s little farm, interrupted only occasionally by a passing car. Sometimes Ma
would walk to the woods behind the cornfield that backed the barn. Damp
emerald moss and ferns carpeted the floor of the woods near the creek. A huge
white bark birch grew along the creek bank at a spot where she and Pa used to
stand together and listen to the stream as it ran swirling over smooth and
shimmering stones.
Today was the rolling library day. Ma had circled this July 10th on her
kitchen calendar back in June. A panel truck filled with books came once a month
33
and stopped in the yard. Peggy knew the truck was due, and so she sat on the front
doorstep, her lap full of books to be returned today. She had read all six easily in
the month since the library had come around.
Before long Peggy heard the engine of the van as it rounded the curve down
by the creek bridge. The truck was barely in the yard with its blue and yellow
Bookmobile sign before Peggy stood at the sliding door where the driver
disembarked.
“How is summertime for you, Miss Peggy”? sang the driver-librarian in her
melodious voice. “Are you ready for more books? I see you have some to return.”
“Yes. Do you have anything new?”
“Indeed we do. Here are three I’ve saved just for you.” The librarian liked
to rhyme her comments. She handed Peggy the books.
Peggy read the titles and decided immediately to take them: A Helen Keller
biography, a storybook about a family of foxes, and one about making money at
home selling pies.
“There are some more new ones mixed in on the shelves if you want to look,
but I thought you would definitely like those three.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” Peggy set the books on a half-empty shelf and began to
browse the other books for something else interesting to read. She finally settled
34
on a how-to book of sketching and one about the care and keeping of honey bees.
Her arms loaded with the books, Peggy carefully stepped down from the
truck, thanking the librarian. “See you in four weeks.”
“See you in a moon, and that’s real, real soon.” The librarian sang her usual
goodbye as she smiled and closed the sliding door. She pulled out of the yard
slowly and headed up the road.
***************
Patching Up the Ceiling
Margie had held the ladder as Ben patched up the ceiling.
“Good as new,” Ben had noted as he stepped down onto the floor of their
bedroom.
Margie was at a loss for words when it came to discussing her temper, and
so she had remained silent. She wasn’t given to gab, but her words came in
torrents when she was worked up emotionally. And that happened often with Ben.
Right now, though, there was nothing to bother her. Ben had built a small shop
for his little business under the pecan trees between the well and the barn, close to
the road. Mason’s Cabinet Shop the red and white arrow-shaped sign read on the
post near the road as it pointed to the shop.
Something else to keep Margie contented was the fact that all of the turkeys
35
had now completely taken to the woods. This summer’s gardens would be safe
from the wild turkeys as they foraged for food in the fields and the woods. For the
past two years the turkeys had been loose in the yard. Peggy had heard much of
Margie’s yelling to shoo them out of the garden and off the porch. That they were
now gone was a tremendous relief to the whole family.
***************
A Mother’s Insight into her Son
Things were on an even keel around Ma’s house these days, but the
previous year lingered, leaving a twinge of nervous expectancy. Ben tiptoed
around Margie, afraid to set her off. Margie could hold her Irish temper with
everyone but Ben, and Peggy was all ears for their arguments.
Ma thought Peggy was too young to carry the burden of her parents’
turbulent relationship, and so Ma did her part to put things into perspective for her
granddaughter when she had a chance. That usually happened when they went to
the garden together or when Peggy was doing chores in the kitchen.
“What’s wrong with Daddy and Mama, Ma? Whey do they fuss so much?”
Peggy would ask.
“It takes longer for some folks to mature than others. Remember reading in
our old encyclopedia that it takes two years for a mother elephant to have her
36
young? Well, when human babies are born after nine months, there’s so much
learning to do that sometimes learning first things first gets out of order.”
“What comes first in learning,” Peggy quickly asked with intense interest.
“Trust,” said Ma. “And I think your Daddy learned trust on time, but after
trust comes other development over the years, things like working with others to
find the right career. This is where you father is still learning.”
“Is that why he hunts all the time”?
“Your daddy married too young, but that’s all right. I think he will settle
down soon.”
“Why was it too soon for him to marry?”
“He’s not set about his life’s work, and that’s something he had to settle in
his own mind. I can’t do it for him and no one else can either.”
Ma knew that Peggy, though young, was old beyond her years. Ma felt that
it was important for Peggy to know something about the inner workings of Ben’s
feelings.
Peggy listened intently to what Ma said to her, absorbing every word.
***************
Margie and Peggy’s Plan
Today Margie sat at the mirror in her bedroom with the newly patched
37
ceiling. Gray hair was becoming prematurely prominent in her once dark auburn
mane. She wore her hair long and wavy, permed and pulled back from her face,
then fastened behind her ears with silver barrettes. She wore lipstick, the only
makeup she really needed, though she rubbed Jergen’s lotion into her freckled
cheeks and forehead as a daily ritual before leaving for the mill. Her eyes, one
brown and one blue, were deep set and watchful.
“It won’t be long before school starts back, Peggy. We should go to the
store and pick out some fabric for new dresses soon, maybe Saturday. Want to?
“Sure. Can I help make them this time, Mama?”
“We can cut them out together.”
“I want to learn to sew, Mama,” Peggy pleaded. “I want to make some
pillows for my room.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to do that. When I learned to sew I wasn’t much
older than you are now. My granny taught me to hem napkins and pillowcases on
the machine. Making a pillow may be a good way for you to start.”
“Look, Mama,” Peggy whispered at the open window. “He’s looking up
here again.”
Margie went to the window and saw old man Barrow walking slowly on the
road toward town, his face turned to the house expectantly.
38
“He’s so weird. Don’t ever talk to him, Peggy. Just come inside if he ever
speaks to you.”
“Why is he looking up here, Mama? He looks so bad. Is he sick”?
“I don’t know what his problem is. Come away from the window. Don’t let
him see you looking back.”
***************
Margie’s Invention
Margie stood over the kitchen table then spread yesterday’s Montgomery
Advertiser. She slowly began to outline shapes onto the newspaper with a pencil.
Then using her scissors, Margie carefully cut out the newspaper pieces she had
drawn. Next she stitched the paper pieces together on the sewing machine,
studying them, pinching them in here and there, shaping them. Then back to the
newspaper again, drawing little feet, a long-necked head, a tail, cutting again and
sewing. It took about 20 minutes for her to hold up the finished product of a
pillow pattern in the shape of a turtle for Peggy’s room.
Margie had surprised herself this time. Trying for a pattern that would be
Peggy’s first sewing project, she found herself so pleased with what she had
designed that she decided to make the pillow in secret and surprise Peggy with it,
then let Peggy make the second one. Margie began searching her scraps bag for
39
some suitable fabrics.
***************
Ben’s New Idea
The smell of ripened corn permeated the little farm, and Ben had all he
could do to get the harvest in alone. Only five days between ripening and
beginning to harden, the brown tasseled ears were plump and ready to be picked.
Half the field’s yield would go to the Farmer’s Market, and the other half to Pa’s
grinder in the barn for cornmeal. After two long days, Ben had the sweet corn
harvested. He had made two trips each day to town to put his crop in the hands of
Albert Elder, a broker at the market who then parceled it out to waiting trucks. In
all Ben made about $300, enough to cover the cost of the new tools he had bought
for his cabinet shop.
Ma made expert use of the corn for the family’s table. She creamed it, fried
it, boiled it for corn on the cob, and cut some off the cob to add to her homemade
chow-chow. They ate all they could hold, and there was plenty left over for
canning and for sharing with their neighbors.
Ben began to toss around an idea in his head about moving the family to a
nearby county. He had heard of a building boom in Auburn and he wanted his
cabinet shop to be a part of that. Not knowing exactly how to bring this up to
40
Margie and Ma, he nursed the possibility until he was certain it would be a good
move. Margie could continue to work at a cotton mill located in Opelika, just
seven miles from Auburn. Ben was reluctant to leave Ma. He knew, though, that
Ma would never want to leave the place where she had spent so many years with
Pa. Feeling a little foolish about leaving the new cabinet shop he had just built, he
determined to start over in Auburn with a new shop somewhere in the new town.
Somehow he would find a way to let Margie know what was on his mind, hoping
it would not cause her to fly off the handle and accuse him of trying to get out of
work.
***************
It’s a Turtle
“Mama, I love it.” Peggy held the turtle at arm’s length, gazing in wonder
at the soft, fabric pillow that her mother had presented to her. “Did you really
make this”? Peggy beamed.
“Yes, I did. And look, it tucks into the shell.” Margie showed Peggy how
to insert the turtle’s head, legs, and tail into the quilted shell, forming a perfect
semi-circle, about the size of half a big round watermelon, and making a fine
pillow.
“You can make the next one, Peggy.”
41
Peggy instantly thought of the library book she was reading about an
enterprise of pie sales operated from someone’s home. Her mind raced to turtle
pillows lined up on a shelf in Ben’s shop with price tags on them.
“Mama, we can sell these. I know we can.”
“Do you think so”?
“Let’s ask Ma. She will know.”
Ma agreed that the pillow design was spectacular and suggested Margie
enter it at the state fair that fall. “They would make splendid displays at the
bazaars in town, too.”
Margie began to realize that she had produced something that might
possibly bring in an income.
“How long does it take you to make one,” asked Ma.
“About three hours.”
“And the fabric, how much do you think you put into it”?
“It was all out of the scraps bag. New, I would say less than $5.00. For
stuffing I used cotton from the crib in the barn.”
Ma smiled, impressed with Margie’s production. “Well, Margie, you have
yourself a winner here. We can all sew turtles and go into business with Ben.”
***************
42
A Drive to Auburn
Ben decided to make the short trip to Auburn to survey all the building
going on and to get a feel for the town. He left early one morning, driving the
distance on Highway 14 in about 40 minutes.
It won’t be far coming home to see Ma after we move, he thought, then
added out loud, “If we move.”
Auburn was a surprise. He had expected another sleepy town, one that
would make him want a stiff cup of coffee. Instead, as he drove around the tree-
lined streets, he saw young faces everywhere. Enrollment must be up at the
university, Ben decided, as energetic students stirred all about the town, book bags
on their backs, talking and laughing with each other. Ben cut wide around the
many students who rode bicycles. New home construction appeared on the south
side and new subdivisions were being built up outside of town.
Ben looked around for cabinet shops but did not see one anywhere. Good,
he thought. I might be the first one.
At a major intersection of the town, the corner of North Gay Street and
Opelika Road, Ben stopped for gas. He pulled into place by a pump, then heard a
long, blaring honk behind him. Looking up, he saw a Greyhound bus on his rear
bumper trying to pull into the service station lot. As he moved his truck out of the
43
way, the bus parked on the pavement and idled while the driver got out and went
into the small one-room gas station that doubled as the town’s only bus station.
Ben then noticed a sign that said Greyhound Bus Depot.
Next door to the gas station sat a large, two-story house surrounded by
pecan trees, a For Rent sign posted in the front yard. Ben copied down the phone
number. He walked up onto the front porch and noticed that there was a long,
open hallway through the center of the house with a staircase leading up. The
hallway was bare except for the stairs, and there were doors on each side, A-1 and
A-2. Ben realized the house had been divided into apartments. “Just right for
Margie, Peggy, and me,” he said out loud as he walked back to the gas station.
The bus had departed, so Ben gassed up. The red-faced manager let him use
the phone to call the number on the for rent sign.
“It won’t be for rent long. Students are looking for fall quarter places now.”
The station manager was being helpful.
Ben found that the two-bedroom apartment rented for $250 a month. He
impulsively decided to take it, getting directions to the agent’s office, then
hanging up and thanking the station manager.
“Looks like we’re going to be neighbors.”
“Victor Thompson,” the manager extended his hand. “Welcome to town.”
44
***************
Old Man Barrow Shows Up at the Door
The key to apartment A-1 at 333 North Gay Street in his pocket, Ben drove
back to Tallassee whistling. The surprise he had for his family excited him.
Crossing the Tallassee bridge over the Tallapoosa River, he glanced at the mill
below the dam where Margie was now on her 2nd shift job. He thought that she
would like Auburn with its fresh young faces and sidewalks through
neighborhoods that called out to reside there. He would get his family ready for
this move to take place in less than a month, coinciding with school starting for
Peggy. She could start 5th grade in a new town.
Ma knew something was going on with Ben as he had been away from
home the entire day. Knowing it was a matter of time until she found out what it
was, Ma waited. He would eventually confide in her, of this she was certain. She
didn’t have long to wait.
Ben sat down with Ma at the kitchen table and blurted his plans, telling her
of finding the apartment in Auburn.
“You can ride the bus to see us any day of the week. We are going to live
right next door to the bus station.”
They discussed all aspects of the move, including Margie’s possible
45
reaction. Ma realized the change would be a permanent one. If Ben ever got off
the farm and got going in another direction, Ma was sure he would never want to
return. He had struggled with the farming operations and had helped Pa for many
years, but his heart had never been in it. Ma knew this, and so she thought this
move was a positive one.
“I’ll be on that bus, all right. And I’ll be looking for you all back here to see
me when you can.”
Ben was about to express his reluctance to leave Ma there alone when a
pounding at the front door sounded.
“Lord, who can that be”? Ma started for the door.
Ben got up from the table. “I’ll go.”
Ben opened the door to find old man Barrow out of breath and struggling
for air as he opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide and frightened.
“What’s wrong? Can you talk, Barrow”?
“I need $10.00. I’ve got a bottle for you.”
Ben lowered his voice. “What’s the matter with you, man? I told you never
to come here.”
“But I thought” --
“I don’t care what you thought. When I get ready for another bottle, I will
46
see you at your place. Do you understand”?
Old man Barrow nodded in submission as Ben closed the door in his face.
He left holding a bottle under his jacket.
***************
The Move Shapes Up
Margie took well the news of a move to Auburn, though she was a little
peeved that Ma and Ben had planned the move before discussing it with her.
Accustomed to being left out of the loop when it came to Ma and Ben, she
accepted the fact that Ben always went to his mother first.
Since marrying, she and her husband had not lived in a place of their own.
Living with Ma was a great help financially, but Margie had always wanted to be
on her own with Ben and Peggy. She was concerned though about leaving Ma
alone and knew that the change would affect Ma as well as herself. Taking Peggy
away from Ma would be hard, as the two of them were so close to each other.
“Peggy will have her summers free and could come stay with you, Ma, and
help you in the garden.”
“I thought about that,” said Ma. “I will keep her room just the way it is so
that when she returns, she will know she has a place here, too.”
“I wish you could drive and we could afford a car for you. You could just
47
get in the road and see us anytime.”
“Ben says the bus depot is right next door. I imagine I’ll be on that bus
sometime.”
“It’s three weeks before we move. Before then, let’s all go to Jerry’s church
one Sunday. He needs our support.”
Ma had the same idea. “I intend to go this coming Sunday.”
***************
Thinking Minds Love
The congregation was small at Thinking Minds Love, Life’s Disciples. Ma,
Ben, Margie, and Peggy sat on the second pew from the front, leaving the front
pew for the hard of hearing and new members, if there were to be any. Pastor
Jerry led a meditation and then sang a solo, In the Garden. The sermon’s title, Idle
Hands, tweaked Margie’s interest, as well as Ben’s, and they were anxious to hear
Pastor Jerry speak.
After a selection from the small choir, In This Very Room, Pastor Jerry read
scripture: “Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business
and to work with your hands, so that your daily life may win the respect of
outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody. First Thessalonians
4:11-12.” The pastor spoke of Jesus’s healing hands and invoked his congregation
48
to address their own creativity.
“Where is your gift to God? Let your creation be yourself. Open your lifted
hands to God and ask for your true self back, the one this world robbed from you.
Your true self has been in God’s care and keeping since you lost it. Get ready to
be in love with yourself and each other. This is the way to keep the first
commandment to love God. Get real and be honest in every way. Let your Christ
consciousness grow the real you.”
When the service ended, Peggy held Ma’s hand as they went forward to say
goodbye to Pastor Jerry.
Peggy looked up into the pastors blue eyes and they held her steadily. “I
want to be my true self, Pastor Jerry. I asked for it.”
“Then you will have this,” the pastor hugged her. “I think your mama and
daddy will help you hold onto it. Right”?
“Right,” said Margie, squeezing her husband’s hand.
“Right,” Ben agreed.
***************
Ma Says Goodbye for Now
On moving day, Ma rose earlier than usual and wrapped three gifts with
Christmas paper, tying small bows with blue ribbons. She stewed dried peaches
49
with cinnamon and baked fresh biscuits. Scrambled eggs and sausages completed
the morning menu for her departing family. Ma tenderly set each place at her table
and put the gifts beside the plates.
Margie was up next. “Good morning, Ma.”
“Good morning, Margie. Today is a big day for you. Are you ready for the
move”?
“Not ready to leave you,” Margie reached and touched Ma, resting her head
on Ma’s shoulder for a moment.
Ma’s chin quivered. “I’m not going to cry. I’ve already made my mind up
about that. This is meant to be. Ben can find lots of work in Auburn and it isn’t
that far away.”
Ben and Peggy entered the dining room together, Peggy noticing the gifts
on the table.
“Ma, did you do this”? asked Peggy.
“Would like to open it now? Go ahead if you’d like.”
Peggy opened her gift and found a large supply of small squares of blue,
green, and purple fabric that Ma had cut out.
“It can be your first quilt,” said Ma.
“Oh, thank you, Ma.” Peggy went to Ma and hugged her tight.
50
Ben’s gift was a spiral bound notebook where Ma had entered dates for the
rest of the year at the top of each blank page.
“It’s to help you keep track of all the jobs coming your way,” Ma explained.
Margie opened her gift to find five little sachet pillows that Ma had made
from the sweet shrubs and mint growing about her place that summer. Margie
held them to her face, breathing deep, and thanking Ma over and over.
***************
In Town
Ben pulled his truck into the driveway at 333 North Gay Street and parked
under the pecan trees. It didn’t take long to unload their sparse furnishings. They
had beds and chests of drawers, a bookcase, a sewing machine, a table and four
chairs, along with various boxes. Margie had said she didn’t mind waiting to buy
the living room furniture; they could add that later.
The apartment was large and airy with twelve foot ceilings. It was the hot
water that commanded the most attention at first. Peggy had never lived in a
house with a hot water heater. She said it felt so strange to have hot water running
into the bathtub from the faucet. A door opened on each end of the bathroom, one
to the back bedroom and one to Peggy’s bedroom.
The living room/dining room was at the front of the apartment and Peggy’s
51
room opened onto it. There was a small kitchen opening also onto the back
bedroom and onto Peggy’s room. The kitchen was furnished with a small electric
range and a refrigerator. A large screened window opened off the kitchen onto the
hallway dividing the house.
Each bedroom and the living room had two large windows looking out over
the side yard and into the t-intersection that housed the gas station/bus depot.
There was a good sized block building painted white that was boarded up behind
the gas station. A row of pecan trees divided the gas station lot and the house lot.
Ben inquired of Victor Thompson, the gas station manager, about the white,
boarded up building at the back. He was determined to find a nearby place for a
cabinet shop. When Ben followed up on Victor’s lead, he found he could lease the
building beginning in January. That was over three months away, enough time to
move his tools from Tallassee and do some advertising.
They all went to bed that night missing Ma but excited about the new town.
Peggy lay awake for a long time listening to the novel sound of traffic passing on
the street and trains in the night, horns blaring and wheels clanking a block away.
Margie and Ben fell asleep soon, tired and emotionally drained from the move.
***************
52
Margie Organizes Her Sewing Project
Margie gave Ben his first woodworking job to build shelves for her new
craft project --turtles. With extra enthusiasm generated by the move to town,
Margie organized her large and well lit bedroom to accommodate her sewing. She
went through all the fabric scraps that she had saved for years and found enough
material to get started. It didn’t take long to cut out 15 turtles. They lay in
unassembled parts – heads, feet, tails, tummies, shells – all stacked neatly on the
new shelves, with more shelf space available for the finished product. The
tummies were an expanse of fabric that begged for decoration such as embroidery
of some sort. Margie had already planned to give each turtle a unique embroidery
on the tummy. Most of Margie’s sewing took place in the mornings, as her second
shift job in the Opelika mill began at three in the afternoon.
“I’ll have this one finished before lunch, Peggy. If you will finish
unpacking, I’ll help you straighten out your room.”
Peggy’s interest in the turtles was piqued. “Look, Mama,” she picked up a
piece of the fabric Margie was working on. “This is from my old dress.”
“Yes, there was enough left over to cut out two turtles.”
“Where will these turtles go, Mama”?
“Oh, I imagine we’ll find a place for them. Let me do the sewing first, then
53
we’ll worry about where they will go.”
What to do with the turtles was a dilemma. Making them was one thing;
selling them was another. Margie had no experience in sales, but she did realize
the value of her craft. This started wheels turning about a place to sell the turtles.
Her first idea was to open a small shop and operate out of their apartment. The
living room was bare and opened onto the front of the house. She could build up
her supply and Ben could put more shelves up in the living room, and maybe build
a counter of some sort. If that did not work out, Margie planned to ask at a local
gift shop about stocking her turtles. She was putting a lot of effort into the sewing
so that they were professionally finished.
“Something will work to get these turtles going,” Margie thought out loud.
***************
Peggy Goes to a New School
After three weeks in Auburn, school started for Peggy. Her mother went
along for the first day to register. They walked the distance – about a mile and a
half – in 30 minutes, a straight shot then left for two blocks from where they lived
on North Gay to the school on Samford Avene. Peggy’s excitement built for her
new school as they got closer, passing through the south side neighborhoods
where tall oak trees made a dense canopy over the street as they lined the
54
sidewalk. She carried a notebook with paper and a zipper bag of pencils,
sharpened and ready.
After they finished registering at the school office, Margie and Peggy
walked up the stairs and down the hallway to the large 5th grade classroom.
Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Moore, greeting everyone after their summer
vacation and getting to know the newcomers.
“Here’s Peggy,” said the teacher, reading the registration form from the
office. “Welcome, Peggy. Where did you go to school last year?”
“Kent. It’s in Tallassee.”
“I see. Come on in and find a seat. Anywhere for now. I will assign seats
later on in the day. Let me speak to your mother for a moment.”
The teacher shook Margie’s hand and said how glad she was to meet her
and to have Peggy in the class. Margie offered to help in any way she could
throughout the year, pausing to let the teacher know she worked 2nd shift at the
mill in Opelika and that she would only be available in the mornings. After that,
Margie got a special look of appreciation and understanding from one hard worker
to another.
***************
55
Peggy Learns of the Science Fair
Peggy came home from school to an empty house, her mother at work in the
mill and her father out somewhere. When Ben was away from the apartment,
Peggy assumed he was somewhere working on getting his shop started.
Peggy took her books into her room and placed them on top of the
bookcase. She opened her notebook and placed it on her bed, reading her
homework assignments and looking at the information about the science fair. She
had learned the first day of class that students from the 5th grade could put together
a science project for the school’s science fair. It had to be something original, and
Peggy had begun to think about what she could do.
About nine o’clock, after a supper alone, Peggy heard Ben’s truck pull into
the back yard. She wondered why he was acting so weird when he came in and so
she decided to stay in her room. He was singing loud and clapping his hands,
saying how great it was to be in Auburn. She didn’t look up when he stuck his
head into her room to check on her as she was busy with homework. Peggy called
goodnight to him from the door of her room at bedtime, not knowing whether he
had heard her or not.
Later, at what seemed to be the middle of the night, Peggy woke up to a
loud voice and crashing noises.
56
“This is the third time this week you have been drinking. I won’t put up
with it. Do you hear me? Where are you going at night?”
Peggy could not hear her father’s reply. He was speaking in low tones. But
she did hear the sound of something being thrown against the wall. Probably the
clock, she thought.
“Why?” screamed Margie. “Don’t you know how bad this is? What will
Peggy think? You are supposed to be looking after her at night. You ought to
know better than to go out drinking while I’m at work in that mill. We’re new in
this town. It isn’t right. You have got to stop.”
“It doesn’t hurt anybody, Margie.”
“It wastes money. You can’t do this.”
“I like drinking beer with those boys at the Casino. You can’t stop me. It’s
legal and you are driving me to it.”
Then Peggy heard the back door slam and her father’s truck leaving.
***************
Ben with Time on His Hands
Ben had time on his hands. With two months until January 1 when the lease
was to begin on the cabinet shop, he spent his days driving around and visiting job
sites, letting the builders get to know him. He left the apartment early every
57
morning, avoiding Margie on his way out, but stopping by the sugar cannister on
the kitchen counter where Margie always put her pay. The only income in the
household was Margie’s, and this did not set well with Ben. Though he had begun
dropping in on the Casino for beers about six o’clock most nights, the fact that
Margie was footing the bill took some of the pleasure out of his drinking. He
didn’t let it stop his fun, though, as he regarded the situation temporary. When his
shop opened, money would be coming in.
What appealed to him most about the Casino was meeting new people and
getting to know some of the students. It was his way of adjusting to the move
from Tallassee. Margie had her turtles; he had the Casino. Some of the regulars at
the bar became friendly with Ben, both students and professors. It was a crowd he
was pleased to fit into, and he wasn’t about to give it up. He cherished the talk of
football that prevailed around the bar.
“We have a good chance to beat Tech this year. I say we go out there and
wipe them out,” said one of the students that Ben had befriended.
“Do you have extra tickets?” Ben wanted to know.
“I might be able to get you some. How many do you want?”
“Two. I could take my daughter. I think she would enjoy going.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Want another drink? It’s early.”
58
“Fill ‘er up,” Ben raised his glass. He had lived in a dry county all his life
and now he drank as if to make up for lost time.
***************
The Fighting
Tension was heavy between Margie and Ben. Though Margie realized there
was a serious problem between them, Ben seemed oblivious to anything but
getting his way. Margie wondered how she could sleep in the same bed with this
man and barely have a civil word with him during waking hours. She continued to
hound him about his drinking, and he insisted he wasn’t doing anything wrong.
“Why don’t you stay away from that place? It’s not right for you to go there
every night.”
“It doesn’t hurt anything for me to stop by for a few beers. I always come
home, don’t I?”
“You have to stop,” Margie yelled.
“See ya,” Ben headed out the door.
Thanksgiving was fast approaching and that meant a trip to Tallassee and
facing Ma. Margie intended to let Ma know of Ben’s new habit. She had kept it
to herself long enough, not even bringing it up with Peggy yet. The women she
worked with in the mill were always telling of their problems, but Margie could
59
not bring herself to admit to them how bad it was between her and her husband.
She needed a confidant, and it looked like it would have to be Ma.
***************
The Family Breakfast
Margie prepared breakfast for Peggy early every morning of the school
week. It was a time when she could sit down with Peggy and enjoy her company a
little bit. Since her job kept her away from home until eleven at night, she missed
seeing Peggy in the evenings. After breakfast, Margie and Peggy would spread
homework on the table and go over it together.
“What’s this about a science project?” Margie wanted to know.
“I’m not through with that part yet. I’m still thinking about something to
do. Here, you have to sign my math test.”
“Peggy, this isn’t like you! A 60. Was it a hard test?”
“I don’t know,” Peggy answered quietly, her spirits down at having to
present her mother with a bad showing on a test. “I’ve been doing lots of
homework to get ready for the tests, but I just don’t understand the problems. I
can’t think too well sometimes when I try to study them. That’s all.”
“Well, I want you to know I think you are very special to work on your own
like you do, and I am going to ask your teacher for some special help for you.”
60
“Thanks, Mama.”
Ben came through on his way out the front door, noticing the school papers
spread out on the table where Margie and Peggy were seated. He paused to
scratch Peggy on top of her head. Oblivious to the math test grade, he brought up
the subject of college. “Someday you will be going to the college here. You know
that, don’t you, little one?” Ben smiled at Peggy but avoided Margie’s glance.
“See you later,” he said as he waltzed out.
“Bye, Daddy.”
Margie and Peggy looked at each other knowingly, but neither said a word.
***************
War Eagle
Ben and Peggy walked to the stadium from their North Gay apartment. It
was the day of the Auburn-Georgia Tech football game, and Ben had found 40-
yard-line tickets. Peggy didn’t know what to expect, though she was excited about
going with her father to the game. She had heard her classmates talk about the
games; now she was about to experience one for herself.
The first thing that Peggy noticed was the throng of people walking toward
the stadium, everyone going in the same direction, carrying orange and blue
shakers and seat cushions. Once inside the stadium, Peggy was astonished at the
61
size. All at once she felt quite small and a little intimidated by the overwhelming
presence of 85,000 people.
The game started, and Peggy, not understanding the game of football, began
people-watching. There was a middle-aged couple sitting in front of her and her
father who were quite vocal. The man gave loud and long yells at every play
Auburn made, turning to his wife and laughing in between his outbursts of
emotion. When Auburn scored, there were cheers from everyone. This impressed
Peggy more than the game itself. What fun everyone was having, herself
included! Her father kept up with the game and told Peggy when Auburn got into
scoring position. He explained the clock and the scoreboard to her. She heard
thousands of people cheering “War Eagle,” and she decided to chime in.
“Waaaarrrr Eagle,” she screamed on her feet, then immediately fell back onto her
seat with a feeling of relief.
***************
Pastor Jerry Visits
When Pastor Jerry showed up in Auburn at Ben and Margie’s apartment, no
one could have been more surprised than Margie. She happened to be home alone
when he came by, and she invited him in warmly. He was on a bus trip to Atlanta
for a spiritual retreat and decided to stop in to see how things were going.
62
“I saw Emma this week. She sends her love to all of you.”
“How is she adjusting to living alone?”
“She’s keeping to herself and staying busy at home. As time goes on
though, I think she will have to find a way to make contact with others more. She
has a lot to offer.”
“Yes, she does. We all miss her, but we will see her this week for
Thanksgiving.”
When the pastor asked about Ben, Margie couldn’t hold back. She told him
about Ben’s late nights out drinking and all the money he was spending on beer.
Their fights, her yelling, his leaving into the night – it all came tumbling out. “I
don’t know what to do about him,” Margie’s voice was heavy with exasperation.
“Margie, here is a brochure for two-day retreats at a convent in Snellville,
Georgia. It’s called Maryfield and doesn’t cost much. You could take a weekend
and go on the bus. You’d have your own room and you could read or go to the
chapel throughout the day, or just rest. If you ever really need to get away, take
this opportunity. You won’t be sorry.”
Margie didn’t know what to make of the possibility of a retreat, but she
thanked the pastor and tucked the brochure into her purse. She would give this
new possibility some thought, but first she had to have a talk with Peggy’s teacher
63
about the math grade.
***************
A Tutor for Peggy
Mrs. Moore met Margie at the door of the classroom during lunch time and
invited her in. Margie was relieved to have this appointment with Peggy’s 5th
grade teacher and launched immediately into the problem.
“Peggy says she can’t think sometimes, that these problems are too
confusing for her. What can we do?”
“Mrs. Mason, Peggy was going great at the first of the year. Yes, she has
fallen behind. I’ve noticed her mind wandering during class time, as if she is
preoccupied with something. Is everything okay at home?”
Margie was not prepared for this question. She had not connected Peggy’s
failing in school with their home life yet. She thought for a minute, not
accustomed to discussing her family problems with anyone, especially someone
she barely know. She decided to level with the teacher. “Mrs. Moore, Peggy
spends her evenings alone as I work on the 2nd shift. Every morning, though,
when I am home with her while she is getting ready for school, we go over her
school work together. I learned yesterday morning that her grades have fallen in
math.”
64
“It isn’t just math,” said Mrs. Moore. “She has failed to hand in some
writing assignments, also.”
“I didn’t know this,” Margie answered. “Is she failing in English, too?”
“Not yet,” said Mrs. Moore. “She seems able to get her class time
assignments done and that is keeping her from failing. We do have some
solutions, and the first one I want to try is using a student tutor for math. There’s a
30-minute period in class when failing students can sit with one of their peers who
is excelling in the subject and get instruction. This works as well as anything, so
let’s try it.”
Margie agreed and thanked Mrs. Moore, promising herself to ask her boss
for a 1st shift position so that she could be at home with Peggy in the evenings.
***************
Peggy’s New School Chum
Joe Jockisch smiled at Peggy as she sat next to him at a table near the
windows of their classroom. He was the star student and popular with the girls as
well as the boys. Peggy had never really talked with him before, though she was
aware of his friendly personality. He asked her questions now about the math
problems she had not understood, and they began to talk about them. In a few
minutes, he changed the subject and asked her about the science fair. “Have you
65
thought of doing something for the science fair? I’m going to prove a theory of
concentration. Want to hear about it?”
“Sure,” said Peggy
Joe went on, “I have been reading about relaxation and meditation for
improving concentration. It sounded so simple that I tried a method that worked
for me. I want you to try it and be part of my science exhibit. Okay?”
“I don’t know,” said Peggy. “What will I have to do.”
“Okay, here it is,” said Joe. “Just agree to participate daily in some thought
exercises, keep a record of the time you spend doing them, and watch yourself
improve in school.”
“Sounds okay to me, but what are the exercises like,” Peggy wondered.
“I’ll tell you now, and then I will also give you the instructions written
down so that you will have them at home where you will do the exercises. Okay?
All you have to do is sit with your hands in your lap, close your eyes, and count
your breaths for 20 minutes. Begin by counting one breath, in and out, the second
breath in and out, third breath in and out, fourth, all the way up to ten, and then
start over at one again and count to ten with each breath for 20 minutes. If you
find yourself thinking about anything other than your breath while counting, then
you have to go back to number one and begin the count at one, focusing your
66
thought on your breath only. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Peggy was incredulous. She couldn’t quite connect the
exercise to her inability to concentrate these days, but Joe did this for her.
“Peggy, girl, your thoughts race away from you sometimes. To slow down
your thought processes and focus on one thing is a way to get your mind back on
track. Do this and be my guinea pig at the science fair,” he teased, beaming with a
brilliant smile and bringing Peggy to a point of agreement.
***************
The Scream Booth
Peggy had decided on a science project of her own, but it would require her
father’s help. She made some preliminary sketches in her notebook and showed
them to Mrs. Moore, her fifth grade teacher.
“A scream booth? Peggy, you will have to explain it to me.”
“Okay. If you want to scream, you just go inside the booth and close the
door. No one can hear you. You can scream and then feel better.”
“How do you know you will feel better?”
“I just know. I’ve heard someone scream and then they felt better.”
“Well, I don’t know if this would be scientific. You project would require
human subjects to prove that screaming makes you feel better. I don’t know if it
67
would be sound psychology, but you can try it.”
Peggy took her sketches to her father one night when he came home early.
“Can you help me build something for a science fair, Daddy?”
“Let’s see what you have there.”
“It’s a sound-proof place to go inside.”
“How big is it supposed to be?”
“About the size of a telephone booth, I guess.”
“What’s it for?”
“Screaming in.”
“Screaming?”
Peggy had heard the incredulity in her father’s voice. “It’s a scream booth.
You go inside, scream, and then you feel better,” she explained.
“Who is going to use this, Peggy?”
“Anyone who needs to scream. Don’t you think it would be a good place to
go?”
Only after Peggy told her father that she had permission from the teacher to
enter her idea at the science fair did Ben promise his help. He would provide the
wood and Peggy could do the measuring, cutting, and nailing. To be soundproof,
it would have to be insulated, Ben told Peggy, his only contribution to its design.
68
With the science fair opening in February, Peggy was off to a good start
with her project. She had her friend Joe Jockisch to thank for leading her into
doing to project, and she was not neglecting the exercises that would help Joe with
his project. Every morning before school, Peggy sat for 20 minutes and focused
on her breaths. She did this again in the evening before bedtime. The exercises
became easier and easier to do as she practiced them, and she kept her progress
notes and gave them to Joe for his project work.
***************
The High School Library
Peggy got special permission from Mrs. Moore to visit the high school
library in search of material for her science project. She went directly to the
research desk and asked for directions to the shelves with psychology books.
The most helpful book Peggy located was “The Primal Scream” by Dr.
Arthur Janov, describing his work at the Primal Therapy Institute in Los Angeles.
She read it cover to cover and got a good feel for why screaming was
therapeutic. She learned how psychological blocks could be cleared away by the
screaming process. It was what Ma had told her about developmental levels in
humans and how blockages could postpone maturity into the age-appropriate level
of development. Peggy understood that screaming through psychological pain
69
could release a blockage and free someone to become a happier person. She made
notes all the way through reading “The Primal Scream” and went back to the
shelves to look for something on developmental levels. She found Erickson’s
theories and realized Ma must have read of these somewhere along the line for
they were in keeping with Ma’s revelation that basic trust was the first learning
task of a human infant. Peggy then put together a written report to go along with
the scream booth for the science fair.
***************
Thanksgiving with Ma
Early on Thanksgiving morning, Ben, Margie, and Peggy rode to Tallassee
in Ben’s GMC. The countryside shimmered bronze and crimson against a clear
autumn sky. Goldenrod bent double as the truck skimmed the roadside of
Highway 14. In the back of the truck, along with green beans she had found fresh
at the A&P in Auburn, Margie had packed two sweet potato pies in boxes. They
would arrive early enough to cook the vegetables for Thanksgiving dinner.
Ma had a hen and dressing ready for the oven. Vegetables from her supply
of summer garden canned goods were already in pots on the stove. Margie
immediately sat down and began to snap the beans she had brought, glad for
something to do.
70
At Ma’s, there was a different kind of pace to the day. Auburn behind them,
now everything took more time. There were moments to take in the aroma from
Ma’s kitchen. Always prominent was a dried fruit fragrance mixed with pine
scents from the wood burning stove as ashes crackled and shifted deep within its
hot and glowing belly. Steam rose from the cauldron on the back burner,
moisturizing the air, making it easy to breathe.
Margie had already decided not to mention her problems with Ben to Ma.
After she had unloaded her burden to Pastor Jerry, she felt that also telling Ma
would be a mistake. Ma would worry unnecessarily and there wasn’t much she
could do. Ben was going to behave as he pleased, and no one could change him.
I’ll just have to wait, Margie uncharacteristically told herself.
At the table Ben sat opposite Margie, a new arrangement of their usual
seating beside each other, and something that did not go unnoticed by Ma. She
and Margie exchanged glances but nothing was said. Ma said the blessing,
thanking God for bringing them together on this day and for providing for them.
After they ate, Ben took his shotgun and went to the woods, something he
usually did on weekends after a big meal when he was at his mother’s place. He
would roam until he came upon the road that backed their woods, then turn and
head back to the house. If he shot at anything, it would be pine cones or dead
71
limbs.
“How is the turtle business, Margie?” asked Ma as they put away the food.
“Oh, it’s not a business yet. Just a sewing operation so far. I have nine
ready to be sold, though.”
“How much do you want for them?”
“I don’t know yet. I can’t decide on a price.”
“Are you running out of scraps? You can have some of mine.
“Sure. I have to go to the barn to get more cotton for stuffing. That stuffing
costs so much if I have to buy it.”
Margie told Ma about her idea to take the turtles to a gift shop in Auburn.
She didn’t mention that Ben might build shelves to make a living room shop for
the turtles. Any mention of her husband made Margie flinch.
***************
Margie’s Loneliness
After arriving back in Auburn on Thanksgiving night, Margie stored the
leftovers she brought from Ma’s in the refrigerator, squeezing the dishes in and
around all the bottles of beer. Resenting this and resigned to an evening of
possible discord, Margie felt uneasy after the day of relaxation. She went to
Peggy’s room to see about starting a game of Monopoly, but Peggy wanted to
72
read. Ben had already gone to bed, and Margie wanted to avoid the bedroom. To
make the most of her holiday night off from the mill, she tiptoed in and out of the
bedroom to pick up her embroidery. Sitting alone at the table, she worked on a
turtle tummy, carefully stitching her hand lettering in green thread, Let’s Make
This House a Home.
***************
Margie Plans a Retreat
When Margie pressed Ben about building shelves for the living room to
convert to a sales shop for the turtles, he refused. He said he had made the
decision not to be helpful to her with the turtles because she still badgered him
about his drinking. When she came home from the mill at eleven o’clock, she
always flipped the light on in their bedroom if she smelled alcohol. Then the
fights started. There was no avoiding Margie when she was riled up. The only
thing Ben could do was leave the house, and he did, heading back to the Casino no
matter how late it was. This unhappy ritual continued until two weeks before
Christmas. Margie knew something had to give. She read again the brochure
about the convent retreats in Georgia, and resolved to go that next weekend. For
$9.00 a day, including meals, she could stay Friday and Saturday nights, riding the
bus home on Sunday. Margie discussed this with Peggy and bought the groceries
73
her family would need while she was to be at the convent. Peggy agreed to stay in
the house all weekend and to help her father if he needed her.
Margie asked off for Friday, the day she was to leave for the convent. Her
boss didn’t mind giving her a day off because she was otherwise so regular.
Margie spent the morning packing. Not knowing what to expect out of a retreat,
Margie guessed she would have a room where she could totally rest. She decided
to take one of the turtle pillows to be comfortable on the bus. She also packed
several turtle tummies and her embroidery kit for something to do on the bus and
at the convent.
Unsure of herself, Margie crossed the yard to the bus station next door, a
little shaky with her suitcase and turtle pillow, and the ticket she had bought
earlier in the week in her purse. The bus was pulling onto the pavement of the
station as she approached. She went directly onto the bus and to a seat midway
back, putting her suitcase above her seat in the storage compartment. Soon the bus
was moving toward Georgia, a four-hour drive to the convent.
Margie tried to concentrate on why she was making this trip. Having no
experience with retreats, she kept doubting herself. Maybe I shouldn’t be going,
she told herself as the miles sped by. It isn’t too late. I can get off the bus in
Opelika and be back home in half an hour. Why did I leave Peggy alone for the
74
weekend? She might need me. Why didn’t I tell Ben goodbye? Can I really afford
this retreat? I shouldn’t be going.
“That’s a unique pillow you have there,” a voice from across the aisle
brought Margie almost back to the moment. She had not taken the time to notice
her fellow travelers and was a little stunned to be spoken to at this time.
“I say, your pillow there. Where did you get it?”
“Oh, the turtle. I make these.”
“May I take a closer look?”
“Sure,” said Margie, handing the pillow across the aisle to the elderly, well-
dressed woman.
“You put a lot of work into this. Do you sell them?”
“I’m trying to.”
“My daughter has a shop in Atlanta. I’m going to visit her now. She would
love this. Is this one for sale?”
Margie had to think for a moment. How much should she charge? She had
put about four hours of work into it, but the fabric was out of her scraps bag.
The passenger continued, “You just let me know how much you want for it.
I have to have it.”
Margie hesitated. “Ten dollars?”
75
“I will give you $20.00 for it. It’s worth at least that much. The woman
reached for her purse. “Let me have your name and address. My daughter will
want to talk to you. My name is Daisy Winton. I live in Montgomery.”
Margie took the $20.00 and gave Daisy Winton her address. She began to
feel a lot better. The trip was now paid for with this unexpected sale of the turtle.
Margie settled back into her seat and looked out the window, thinking. If I sell ten
turtles for $20.00 each, that will pay most of the rent for a whole month!
Daisy Winton and Margie chatted off and on all the way to Atlanta where
Daisy got off the bus. She insisted that Margie step off for a moment to meet her
daughter who was waiting at the bus station.
Margie stood at Daisy’s side while mother and daughter hugged hello.
Daisy then introduced Margie and showed the turtle. Her daughter, whose name
was Anna, turned it over and over, examining all the detail of the stitches Margie
had put on the tummy. She tucked it in and out of the shell, then told Margie how
much she liked it.
“These will make a nice addition to my shop, and just in time for Christmas.
How is your inventory right now?”
Margie hesitated, not sure what an inventory was.
“How many are ready to sell?” asked Anna.
76
“I have ten ready now,” said Margie.
“Wonderful. I will be in touch.”
Margie reboarded the bus, amazed at what was happening. She took her
embroidery kit out and started stitching onto a turtle tummy, Miles to Go Before I
Sleep.
***************
A Place Called Maryfield
The convent in Snellville occupied a space of several acres, a modern
building whose all-white exterior called to mind cleanliness and repose. It sat off
the road by about 50 yards. Margie walked to distance from where the bus let her
off at the road. She approached a small porch with a short wooden bench. On a
note by the doorbell were the words, “Please ring bell and wait for a moment.”
After ringing the bell, Margie sat on the bench and took a deep breath. Snellville
was situated out in the country, about 45 minutes outside of Atlanta, going east.
Dusk fast approaching, the sky glowed pink and purple, and an early evening wind
had already picked up. Margie waited a full five minutes and thought about
ringing again. Had anyone heard the bell? She read the sign over the doorbell
again, deciding to wait a little longer before ringing again.
Soon she heard a lock turning. A nun in black and white habit smiled and
77
greeted her.
“Are you here for a retreat?
“Yes, I’m Margie Mason.”
“Please come in. I will take you to your room. I am Sister Aimee.”
Margie followed Sister Aimee through the entrance room and down a long
well-lit corridor. Her room was off the corridor toward the front of the building
and contained a single bed, a chair, a desk, a table next to the bed with a lamp, a
small closet, and a small bathroom. White venetian blinds and white curtains
covered the window that looked out from the front of the building.
“Sister Bernice is assigned to you for the weekend. She will be coming by
in just a moment.” Sister Aimee smiled and left Margie standing in her room.
After a knock at her door, Margie opened it to a nun in habit. Elderly but
strong, with a strong voice, wearing glasses, the nun smiled broadly. She
introduced herself as Sister Bernice and said she would show Margie around.
“Our library is right across from your room here. You can use it whenever
you like. Do you have a clock?”
Margie held up her wrist and showed that she was wearing a watch.
“Good,” said the nun. “Here is a schedule for meals, vespers, prayers, and
services. Now let me show you the dining room.”
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They went down another corridor that led toward the back, Sister Bernice’s
habit swishing about her ankles as they made their way and then stopped at a room
containing six tables.
Bells began to peal.
“It’s almost time for supper now. You’ll want to wash up in your room. We
can talk more after supper.” Sister Bernice’s broad smile was beautiful.
***************
Supper with the Sisters
The nuns’ serving table was spread simply with bowls of vegetables, rice, a
platter of luncheon meat, and a plate of bread slices. Sister Bernice motioned
Margie to go ahead and serve her plate. Margie took two spoons of rice, a few
vegetables, one slice of spiced ham, and one piece of bread. She looked again at
the Sister who pointed to a place at one of the tables. Margie sat down and waited
for the other sisters to serve their plates and take a seat, thinking there would be a
blessing. Instead, a young nun who wore rimless glasses went to a small table in
the corner of the room and started a tape playing. A man’s voice was clear and
distinct, and he spoke of how one could come to desire to be compassionate. All
the nuns ate in silence, listening to the tape. At the end of the tape, the same nun
with glasses turned the tape over to play one side of music which Margie did not
79
recognize. The end of the music side of the tape signaled the nuns to leave their
tables and clear away the dishes. By the time Margie offered to help, everything
had been cleared away and the room was spotless. The nuns went their separate
ways, some up the hall, some down. A work day for them was just ending.
Margie made her way back toward her room, hoping she could find it.
***************
Convent Library
After about an hour in her room, Margie decided to visit the library across
the hall. She felt along the wall for a light switch, found it, and began to browse
the volumes. Catching her eye right away was something called “In the Midst of
the World,” by St. Francis de Sales. She pulled it from the shelf and read the back
cover to learn that the book was for anyone who found themselves pulled away
from God by a busy schedule. It was about techniques for holding onto God and
still doing a good job every day. “Just what I need,” thought Margie, “in dealing
with Ben.” She set the book on a little table near the bookshelves and kept
browsing. The next title to attract her was “Brother Juniper, Fool of God.” She
opened its pages and discovered a medieval monk who had, of course, no
attachment to money or possessions of any kind. He constantly gave away all he
ever acquired, so much so that he was laughed at by the other monks with whom
80
he lived. Margie added this volume to the stack to carry back to her room.
Margie could hear the nuns chatting together and laughing from a room
down the hall. She imagined it to be their congregating area at the end of their
work day, a place to which she, as a retreatant, was not invited to visit. “That’s
okay,” she thought, “I have some reading to do, and my embroidery is just
waiting.”
After dressing for bed, Margie slipped on a robe and surrounded herself
with the library books and her sewing, deciding to read first. She stretched out on
the bed on top of the covers and pulled the lamp closer. “I’m relaxing,” she
thought. “I won’t be coming home tonight and finding Ben half-drunk. He cannot
disturb me here.” She closed her eyes for a moment and offered a prayer for
Peggy’s protection. “Keep her safe, Dear God.”
Margie read for a while, then put her books on the table beside the bed and
picked up her sewing basket. She visualized the lettering she was about to apply,
counting inches and letters from side to side on the turtle tummy, finally deciding
where to begin her first stitch for the phrase Home Is Where the Heart Is. She
sewed until she fell asleep and she slept all night with the light on.
***************
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A Wise Nun
Sister Bernice found Margie before breakfast and asked about her rest the
night before. “Were you comfortable in your room? You left the light on.”
“I slept well. Just too lazy to reach over and turn off the light.”
“Is that how you keep house for your husband?” asked the nun. “There’s a
cost to burning lights all night, you know.”
Margie didn’t know how to answer the sister.
“If you are worried about something, tell me, and we can talk about it after
breakfast,” Sister Bernice went on.
“Oh, I have my reasons for wanting to get away from home this weekend,
but I don’t know if you want to hear all my problems.”
“When someone comes for a retreat here, it’s a time for sharing your
burdens with us. I would understand. I am old but I know a lot about grief and
sorrow. Our Lord suffered before he died, and he wept for hurting people. You
know that, don’t you?
“Sure.”
“Let’s go to breakfast and then we’ll talk.”
***************
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Margie’s Breakthrough
Margie sat through breakfast hardly eating. She picked at her food and
wondered how much she should talk about Ben. The voice on the tape this time
spoke about how to cultivate patience by first of all praying for it. Margie knew
she was not a patient person. It seemed that Ben was the only person in her life
who exasperated her. It was true she had no patience with him. She just couldn’t
see treating him like a child as Ma did. He was an adult; let him take adult
responsibility for himself and his family. It still escaped her awareness that she
and her husband had little in common other than their daughter. Margie was so
independent that she didn’t feel the need to relate to Ben other than as another
adult. She just did not play games with him. There was never any compromise
between them because Margie never used any strategy in their fights, just issued
her ultimatum for him to quit drinking and to quit now. She really did not know
how to bring Ben up with Sister Bernice. She was still trying to decide whether to
talk about him or not when the tapes ended and breakfast was over.
Before Margie encountered Sister Bernice in the hallway outside the library,
she had quickly made up her mind to say very little about her problem with Ben.
It was simple. He drank too much and too often. That would be enough to tell.
Sister Bernice was waiting near the library door as Margie approached her
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room. “I have about 30 minutes before I go to the chapel,” she smiled broadly into
Margie’s face.
“I really don’t know how to ...” Margie stammered.
“Let’s sit in the library.”
They sat together on a small sofa amid the bookshelves, their knees
touching.
“Do you have children, Margie?”
“One little girl, Peggy.”
“Is she happy?”
“Oh, yes. I think she worries sometimes about her father, just as I do, but
she is happy.”
“Where is she this weekend?”
“At home, with my husband.”
“And your husband, is he happy?”
“He’s happy if he has beer to drink,” Margie raised her voice a little.
“How often does he drink beer?”
“Every night. He gets drunk.”
“He must have problems. What are they, other than the drinking?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t work. He’s trying to start a business. He had an
84
accident two years ago and put out his eye.”
“Does he pray. Does he know our Lord?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t like religion much.”
“Well, Margie, you know, our Lord wasn’t about religion as much as he was
about relationships. Do you love your husband?”
Margie paused, wondering if the honest answer would be “no.” Somehow,
love and respect were all tied together for her, and she couldn’t separate the two.
“Did you love him when you first married?” the nun went on.
“Oh, yes, but that is over and gone.”
“Jesus wants us to love each other as our Father in Heaven loves us. Jesus
taught us that God loves us as children, and that is how we are to love each other –
as children.”
Margie took a deep breath, looking deeply into the nun’s dark brown eyes.
It was what Ma had been saying all along. Why must she regard her own husband
as a child? Was that the only key to getting through to him?
“I don’t know how to love him as a child. He’s not a child.”
“But he is a child, a child of God. In the breadth of eternity, our life on
earth is so short. God, who has always been here before we were ever born and
will always be here after we die, loves us as children our whole lives. We must do
85
that, also, with each other. You must find a way to think of your husband as
God’s child. It will make a difference in your relationship with each other.”
“Can I give him a good spanking,” Margie laughed.
Sister Bernice laughed, too. “A man-child responds more to strategy than
spanking. Offer him your love before criticizing him and be gentle as he tries to
change. Never be angry with him.”
Now it was back to Margie – the anger part. How could she not be angry?
Ben was so wrong.
“I do get angry with him, Sister. I get angry every day.”
“You must pray about this. Go to Jesus and ask for peace of mind. Let
yourself ignore your husband’s faults for a little while. Just accept the Lord’s
blessing of peace in your mind and do not criticize your husband one bit. Just do
your work and strive to be cheerful. Watch your husband closely to see if he is
trying to change. And pray at all times for your own soul’s peace. It is between
you and God. Let God be number one with you. This will bring you relief from
your troubles.”
“I’ll try, Sister Bernice. Thank you for helping me. I don’t like being angry
all the time.”
***************
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Margie Returns to Auburn
The remainder of Margie’s weekend at the convent went by fast. Sister
Bernice showed her around the two acres in the back where she could walk outside
or sit in the sun. One of the nuns, wearing a blue and white habit, drove a tractor
which cut the grass. Margie marveled at these women who had dedicated their
lives to living in community with each other and being so happy about it. She
wondered how it would be to live without a husband. Her own parents had died
when she was young, and she and her brothers had been raised by two deaf aunts,
the closest she had ever come to living in a community of women. Somehow the
convent reminded her of something long ago forgotten, of a mother who
understood and of a life of shared responsibilities. If only she and Ben could have
something in common to share as their life unfolded in Auburn. Margie felt that
she and her husband were far apart. Sister Bernice’s words of advice echoed
about her thoughts and brought Margie to realize that it was up to her to make
changes happen. The trip to Snellville had done her good and she was looking
forward to getting home again.
Margie said goodbye to the sisters and thanked them for everything. The
bus stopped for her at the road and she boarded, finding a seat near the front. She
pulled out her embroidery and began stitching Homeward Bound on a turtle
87
tummy.
***************
Margie’s New Tactics
On Tuesday after Margie returned home from the convent, a letter arrived
from Anna Melvin containing an order for ten turtles. A check was enclosed made
out for $200. Margie wasted no time packaging the turtles for shipment by
Greyhound to Atlanta to be sold. She tenderly tucked each turtle into the quilted
shell and placed them five to a box. The convenience of having a shipping point
next door was truly a blessing, and Margie carried the two boxes to the Greyhound
station, one at a time, and paid the shipping charges. They would be in Atlanta in
time for Christmas.
The $200 that Margie had received from Anna Melvin went immediately
into a new savings account opened at the bank. She would continue to use her
wages from the mill to build up her stock of turtles, depositing all income from the
turtle sales into the savings account.
Having an outlet for sales and receiving the turtle income put Margie in an
independent frame of mind. She found it easy to ignore Ben’s drinking and spent
her spare time sewing turtles. If Ben noticed any new behavior on Margie’s part,
he gave no sign. But Margie felt different. Recalling Sister Bernice’s talk and
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with the success of the turtle sales, Margie could return to her husband with a
promise of change. It was a huge step for her to let Ben’s drinking slide by, but
she did. After checking on the sleeping Peggy, she went immediately to her
embroidery when she returned home from the mill, sitting to work at the dining
table.
In the mornings Margie rose first after six hours of sleep and made breakfast
for her family. It was routine to visit with Peggy over breakfast regarding her
school work and an ideal time to catch up on things.
“Daddy and I worked on my science project last weekend, Mama. I got to
measure and cut the lumber. Daddy had to help me nail.”
“Is it about built, then?”
“Almost. We still have to insulate it and put paneling on the inside. It will
be ready long before the start of the fair in February.”
“It’s good to work ahead. I’m working on ten more turtles I hope to sell
next month. By the way, I have a surprise.”
“A surprise? What?”
“I’ve started a savings account for us to buy a house. It may take a few
years, but it’s a start. What do you think?”
“Is it in the bank?”
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“Sure is – $200.”
“Does Daddy know?”
Ben walked up to the table just in time to hear Peggy’s question. “Does
Daddy know what?”
Margie and Peggy looked at each other and Margie spoke silently to God.
“Help me.”
“Does Daddy know what?” Ben repeated.
“I’m saving money to buy a house,” Margie finally managed her first words
to her husband since the retreat.
“This is something new,” said Ben. “What’s going on?”
Margie didn’t answer him right away. And she didn’t look at him either.
“I’m selling turtles,” she said. “That’s all.”
Ben and Peggy looked at each other.
“And you want to buy a house?”
Margie felt uncomfortable talking to Ben about her plans. She realized for
the first time that she was thinking of a place for herself and Peggy, without her
husband. It had not come to her awareness until this moment that she may be
plotting to leave him. She was so shocked with the realization that she was afraid
to look at him. Instead she just nodded.
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“You will have to sell a lot of turtles for that,” Ben said.
“She sold ten already,” Peggy volunteered.
“Ten?” Ben was quickly interested. “Where?”
“I have a buyer in Atlanta,” Margie’s voice was full of pride for her craft. “I
made $200 this week.”
“And she put it in the bank.”
Margie then looked at her husband. It was a long, knowing look, rich with
innuendo.
“Are you keeping it for yourself?” he asked.
Margie paused before answering. “No, it’s for us,” she said, looking at
Peggy. “Just letting it pile up, hopefully.”
Margie noticed Ben’s look of interest mixed with a hint of confusion. She
felt a twinge of compassion for her husband, though she disapproved of his
lifestyle. In the last few days she had thought often of their marriage, how it had
obviously failed. When they first met and married, she had hope for a life of
shared responsibilities, yet gradually Ben had drifted away from her. He was now
closed off to her emotionally and she didn’t see a way to get that back. She was
leaving it up to him as she carried out Sister Bernice’s advice to be gentle with
him.
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“There are scrambled eggs on the stove if you want breakfast,” Margie said
to Ben.
***************
Christmas Comes
Two days before Christmas, Margie received another order for turtles –
fifteen this time. She hurried to complete them, expecting them to be ready the
week after Christmas. The mill closed for Christmas Day only, so Margie was
busy there and at home sewing. Peggy and Ben completed the scream booth, then
went shopping together, taking a few dollars from the sugar cannister to buy gifts
for each other.
On Christmas Day, Ben presented Margie with a thread box that he had
made for her. It had four rows of spindles and a lid that closed securely. She
could now organize her spools by color, a great help for finding the right thread
when she was hurrying.
Margie made ambrosia and a lane cake, Ben’s favorite holiday foods. She
also baked a ham, something to last all week when she would be so busy with the
turtle order.
Peggy had bought cloth napkins for her mother and a set of carpenter
pencils for her father. She lit a candle on the table and basked in the peace of
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home now that her mother had stopped fighting her father. Peggy didn’t know all
that Margie had on her mind, but she did know that something had changed since
the convent retreat, something positive and beautiful. She sang Silent Night
standing in the kitchen doorway. Then they all sat and had a meal together.
Afterwards, they piled into the truck and headed for Tallassee to see Ma.
***************
Margie Relates Positively
A week later, on New Year’s Day, Ben moved into his new cabinet shop
next door. He had all of Pa’s old tools, plus the new ones he had bought. He
spent the day building work tables and benches, sawhorses and shelves.
Margie bought an electric space heater for the shop, its only heat source,
and took it to Ben on New Year’s Day.
“It’s drafty in this big old building. Maybe this will help.”
Ben appreciated the heater. “Sure, it will help. Thanks, Margie. Just a few
more months ‘til warm weather gets here. I think I can survive with this until
then.”
Peggy’s scream booth stood near the door. Margie walked over to examine
it.
“Not too much screaming going on around here these days,” Ben directed
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his thought at Margie.
Margie looked at him quickly, then looked away, not otherwise
acknowledging his comment.
***************
Ben Gets Busy
With jobs in, Ben curtailed his visits to the Casino. Sometimes he returned
to his shop next door after supper to tidy it up or to check on things for the next
day. He was thankful for the work. It had paid off to call on the job sites around
town in November and December to let them know he was going into business.
One of the jobs was to build a staircase for a home being remodeled. This job
would take him out of the shop to complete. Another job was to build 25 bunk
beds for a furniture store just opening. The cabinet shop sign on the street was
bringing in customers.
Ben had, of course, noticed Margie’s new behavior. He thought it was a
result of her success with the turtle. He had no way of knowing the nuns had
made an impact on her. He couldn’t guess at the way she prayed for herself to
gain control of her temper. So he took an interest in her sewing, making the thread
box as a gift, and silently watching to see how the turtle sales were going.
***************
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Turtles, Turtles, Everywhere
Margie continued to receive orders from Atlanta. The turtles were catching
on there and sold out in the stores as soon as they were stocked. Margie couldn’t
make them fast enough. By the middle of February, her bank account had grown
to $1,300, with orders still coming in. The most recent order was for fifteen turtles
with Come Home embroidered on the tummies. Margie wondered who they would
go to and imagined they were for returning servicemen.
***************
The Science Fair
Peggy set up her scream booth at the science fair. Positioned in front of the
booth were two chairs. Anyone wanting to scream first sat down with Peggy to
talk. Peggy coached them to think of anything that was bothering them and then
to go into the booth and scream. They should emerge feeling relief. She kept a
notebook with comments by the screamers before they left.
So far only Peggy’s classmates had volunteered to go into the booth. One of
them, Belinda Oslo, went twice. She was overweight and sometimes picked on by
other students. She sat with Peggy in front of the scream booth.
“It’s my mother,” whispered Belinda. “I don’t think she loves me.” Tears
formed in her eyes.
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“What does she do?” asked Peggy.
Belinda looked down into her folded hands over her enlarged stomach.
“She told me she wishes I had never been born.”
Peggy was stunned. This was so unlike her own mother, she hardly knew
how to respond. But she knew she had to get Belinda into the scream booth. Then
she would feel better.
“Scream it out, Belinda. Go ahead,” urged Peggy as Belinda stepped inside
the booth.
Belinda soon emerged from the booth and Peggy went to her with a hug.
“I’m glad you are here, Belinda. Let’s be friends, okay?”
***************
Laughing – The Other Side of Crying
Peggy manned her science project all through the science fair. Both her
teacher, Mrs. Moore, and the assistant principal visited it. Mrs. Moore sat with
Peggy and confided that she was concerned that some of her students were not
working hard enough. This was a far cry from Belinda Oslo’s personal problems,
but Peggy listened to Mrs. Moore and ushered her into the scream booth. One of
Mrs. Moore’s exiting comments was that she had been a little embarrassed to
scream much. Peggy thought that her teacher just had not connected to a core
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emotion.
As the assistant principal sat with Peggy in front of the scream booth, he
stated that he could not think of anything that bothered him. Peggy then gave him
permission to use the scream booth as a laughing booth and suggested he leave the
door open if he wanted. He went into the booth, leaving the door ajar just an inch
or so. Peggy smiled as she heard him let go of a loud belly laugh.
***************
Margie’s Strategy Works
With the first proceeds from his cabinet shop, Ben had a telephone installed
in the apartment. He added the phone number to the sign out front and calls began
to pour in. Sometimes he worked in the shop as late as 10:00 o’clock, continuing
to skip stops at the Casino. On the late nights, he was still up when Margie got
home from the mill.
“I’m tired tonight, but it’s a good tired,” Ben sighed as he looked at his
wife.
“So am I, and I still have eight turtles to finish in three days.” Margie
reached for her embroidery and sat back on their bed, resting on both pillows. It’s
So Good To Be Home this turtle tummy said.
“Maybe we could put shelves and a counter in the living room for the
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turtles,” said Ben. “And a sign out front advertising them.”
Margie closed her eyes for a long thankful moment that he had finally
conceded to do this for her.
“I’m pretty sure it would work to increase sales,” Margie was trying not to
sound too overwhelmed with this concession.
Ben sat on his side of the bed next to Margie and put his arm around her
shoulders. He lifted her hand and kissed it.
She looked at him closely and smiled. Margie had smelled no alcohol on
him since he had opened the shop over a month ago. She realized her prayers
were being answered and that she would not be leaving her husband.
***************
Spring on North Gay
Spring was early and North Gay bloomed green and yellow. The trees
formed a bright new-growth canopy that swayed over the street. Someone had
planted forsythia all around the house years ago when it was a one-family
dwelling. It was still blooming when Ben put a sign out front for the turtles. The
sign read Homework, Quilted Fabric Turtles, and included a phone number.
Margie continued to crank out the turtles, sewing in the mornings before she
went to the mill and until she fell asleep after coming home at night. All her
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weekends were filled with turtle-making. The finished turtles sat on shelves in the
living room. She decided to take one to Hearthstone, a new shop in town.
Margie spoke with self-confidence to a clerk. “I was wondering if you
would like to stock my turtle in your store. I have several ready for sale.”
“Let me have you talk to the owner.”
Margie waited at the counter until the owner approached, a tall middle-aged
man dressed in a tie and coat.
“I was just wondering if you’d like to have some of these for your store?”
“This is certainly unique,” said the owner. “Do you make them?”
“Yes. I live on North Gay and work there. Maybe you’ve seen our sign. I
noticed your shop and have been meaning to drop in. I hope you will stock the
turtle. It sells well at a store in Atlanta.”
“I do want to try it. Let’s discuss price.”
Margie told the owner how much she would sell the turtle for, and he
agreed.
“Let me keep this one. I’ll put it in the window.”
Margie left the shop feeling confident that sales would soon begin there for
the turtle.
***************
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Ma Rides the Bus
Ma stepped off the bus and claimed two suitcases. She looked around and
saw Peggy crossing the yard and coming toward the bus station.
“Oh, Ma, I’m so glad you came,” Peggy hugged Ma tight. “Let me carry
one of your bags.”
“I’m here for a week,” Ma said, as she set down her bag in the apartment.
Peggy’s joy in seeing her grandmother was abounding. “Let me show you
my room, Ma. This is my new bunk bed Daddy just made. You can have the
bottom bunk while you are here.”
Margie, Peggy, and Ma sat around the table waiting for Ben to come home
from his shop. Soon he arrived, rushing to Ma, and lifting her off her feet in a big
hug.
“This is long overdue,” Ben laughed. “We have been looking for you for a
while now.”
“I’ll fix us some lunch,” Margie announced. “Peggy, do you want to help?”
“Sure,” said Peggy.
After a lunch of grilled pimento cheese sandwiches and tomato soup,
Margie suggested they walk the three blocks to town to look at the turtles in the
window of Hearthstone.
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“Are you up to it, Ma?”
“You bet I am.”
The window display was eye-catching. Margie, Ma, and Peggy stood
outside the window for a long time, Margie hardly believing that she had made the
nine turtles that were in the window. Some were on their tummies, some sitting
up, and a couple of them were positioned as if they were dancing together.
“Too cute for words,” said Ma. “How many have you sold?”
“About 25 here so far. The owner is starting a catalog business and wants
photos. That’s next.”
“When do you find time to do all this sewing?” questioned Ma.
“It’s getting to be harder now with so many orders coming in.”
“Why don’t you quit the mill? It’s about time you got away from there.”
“Quit the mill?” Margie was incredulous. She had not thought that would
ever be possible.
“Yes, just quit,” said Ma. “Now that Ben has the shop and you have the
turtle orders, seems like the best thing to do.”
Margie resolved to think seriously about Ma’s suggestion.
***************
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Third Prize
Peggy received third prize for her science fair project. She wrote up the
results of her before-and-after surveys and found that the people using the scream
booth did indeed experience relief upon screaming. Mrs. Moore, her fifth grade
teacher, complimented Peggy.
“It was the most unusual project we have ever had, and one of the best, too,
I think. You deserve the prize you won. Do you want to display in our classroom
for the rest of the year?”
Peggy said that she did. School would be out. Then she could devote her
summers to helping her mother with the turtle. Her mother had already asked her
if she wanted a little job helping with the turtles.
***************
Margie’s Announcement
Margie gave notice at the mill on May 2 that year. She would work for two
more weeks, then work full-time on the turtles. The girls at work gave her a
going-away party in the lunchroom.
“We had cookies, a cake, chips, and dip, Cokes. Someone brought me this
balloon bouquet. Isn’t it beautiful? I feel like a balloon, and guess why.”
“Why?” asked Peggy.
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“How would you like to have a little brother or sister?”
“What!? Really, Mama?”
“Really,” Margie beamed. “Sometime next November.”
“I can’t wait,” said Peggy. “Oh, Mama, I’m so happy.”
“So is your father. You should have seen him when I told him. I think he
wants a boy, but we would both be happy with another little girl like you.”
“Does Ma know?”
“Not yet.”
“Can I write to her and tell her?” Peggy could barely contain her
excitement.
“Sure. There are some stamps on the bookcase.”
*****************
Getting Ready for a Baby
All summer the little family worked on turtles. Orders had multiplied with
the addition of a catalog to Hearthstone, and Anna Melvin continued to order from
Atlanta. In all, Margie had sold 340 turtles. She had over $6,000 in the bank.
Ben stayed in his cabinet shop next door to the apartment every day until supper
time. Margie put aside her sewing to make the evening meal most of the time, but
Peggy was learning to cook and pitched in quite often.
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By the first of September, Margie had begun to sew herself some new
maternity clothes. She even made two pairs of bell bottomed pants, one out of a
paisley fabric. The tops had pockets and fit loosely around her expanding
abdomen. Her health was excellent and she even managed to get up at daybreak
and walk about three miles. It took an hour and made her feel great. She would
walk half an hour in one direction, then turn and walk back. Her route took her
past town where she would stop at the Hearthstone window to see the turtles
sitting on their shelf in the store.
Ben built a crib for the new baby. It stood next to Peggy’s bunk bed. It
wouldn’t be long until they could begin looking for a house to buy, Margie said,
but she wanted to have the baby while they lived together on North Gay. They
were all attached to their apartment and its location, and they didn’t really want to
move. Ben suggested they look into buying the house they were presently living
in, having living quarters there for Ma, if they could persuade her to leave her
farm, and that was something they planned to do.
Margie decided to write a letter to Pastor Jerry. After a three-mile walk
early one morning, she sat down at the table while everyone else was still sleeping.
“Dear Pastor Jerry, When you gave me the brochure for retreats at the
convent, I didn’t understand anything about how to change. The nuns helped me
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pray for the strength to deal with my husband in a different way. I gave up
fighting him. With God’s help, I was able to do this. At first, I thought I would
have to leave him, but then it got easier and easier to find peace of mind. I simply
prayed for it whenever I felt stressed. Now we are going to have a little baby in
November. If it’s a boy, we would like to name him Jerry. If it’s a girl, I want to
name her Bernice, after Sister Bernice at the convent. Thank you for your help.
Margie Mason.”
In November, about the time Margie had gone to the convent a year ago, she
received this letter in the mail:
“Dear Margie, Thank you for your note a few weeks back. It is good to
know that everything is working out well with you and Ben. Prayer always works
to bring peace. And when it’s peace that we pray for, God will come through
every time. He sent Jesus to us to teach this. I am glad to have been a part in
reminding you of what Jesus says. Thank you for thinking of naming the baby
after me. Keep on loving each other. Pastor Jerry.”
It’s a Girl
When the baby was born, Ben bought a box of cigars to give to his
customers.
“Have a cigar for my new baby girl,” he proudly announced.
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He would hold her and gaze into her hazel eyes.
“You are my little Frances Bernice, aren’t you? One day you will be a big
girl like your sister Peggy, won’t you?
Peggy was thrilled with her sister Frances Bernice and helped with all the
added chores now that the baby had arrived.
Pastor Jerry came to visit, and they all arranged for a baby dedication at
Thinking Minds Love in Tallassee soon.
Margie put the bassinet next to her sewing machine in their bedroom. She
continued to sew and embroider and was surprised that Ben was being so helpful.
With the infant Peggy, he had seemed afraid to even pick her up. He needed no
coaxing with Frances Bernice. She was her father’s girl from the beginning.
***************
Pa’s Presence
Ma searched for an empty shelf in her kitchen pantry to store a supply of
sweet potatoes she brought up from the cellar. Busy in thought with the proposed
move to Auburn, she realized that living with her family was exactly what she
wanted to do. I think I’ll go, she determined, only a little apprehensive about
leaving the home she had shared with Pa for so many years.
After organizing the kitchen for the upcoming feast at the baby dedication
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and New Year’s, Ma decided to take a walk. She stepped lightly down her back
doorsteps and headed for the woods. Frost covered the yard and nearby fields,
leaving a glaze of light gray over her quiet little farm this late December morning.
“Sticks,” she thought. “That’s what trees look like in winter, big old sticks
coming up out of the ground.” She made her way through bare hardwoods and tall
pines, crunching the layer of fallen leaves on the floor of the woods. Her
destination was the creek and the spot where she and Pa had visited often. Her
hand brushed the crisp greenery of an ancient cedar growing near the creek bank,
and not far away a flicker shook a branch in a bare elm. “Somewhere in this
universe, Pa still lives,” she thought. “He’s close by. I know he is.” The stillness
of the winter woods pervaded Ma’s senses, and she listened as the silence was
broken by the rolling sound of shallow water over loose stones. She spoke quietly
over the sound, her words coming slowly yet distinctly: “Be with us, wherever we
are.” She thought she heard an unevenness in the creek current that she had not
noticed before, a new intermittent soft splash as it flowed within its slopes. “Slow
down,” Ma whispered. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
***************
The End