June 6, 2013
Hey y’all,
Summer is just about upon us. I know this because Lillian Bray can be seen out in her yard every morning fussing over her roses, peonies, and gladiolas. She won another blue ribbon on the Garden Club’s house tour this spring, and she hasn’t stopped talking about it yet.
I didn’t go on the tour. I’m not much of a gardener. But, boy howdy, have I heard the entire account of the garden tour from several of my customers. First of all, there was the bombshell that Charlotte Wolfe would not be participating this year, delivered to the club in person by Charlotte’s husband of fifty years, Ira.
You have no idea how big that news was here in Last Chance. Next to Lillian, Charlotte has been a gardening force in this town for decades.
Lillian took the news in stride, and why wouldn’t she? Charlotte is her main competitor when it comes to the garden tour and best yard contest. But Bonnie Kemp, the vice president of the Club was so concerned about Charlotte that she went up to the Ford dealership and accosted Ira in his office.
Y’all will not believe this, but Ira broke down crying. Charlotte has Alzheimers. And Ira told Bonnie that earlier this spring Charlotte went out to her beautiful border and pulled up all the jonquils, thinking they were weeds. So Ira, bless his heart, withdrew her from the tour to save her the embarrassment. I knew she was failing fast, but I had no idea. Really, none of us did.
Just the other day Charlotte came into the shop looking a little pitiful for such a grand lady. It is a sad thing to see someone slowly declining like that. It’s such a shame that Charlotte’s only child – her son – walked out on the family a long time ago. I don’t think Simon Wolfe has even spoken to his parents in decades. I wonder if he even knows that his momma’s losing her mind.
Pat Canaday told me that Charlotte’s joined the Purly Girls, the charity knitting group that meets at the Knit & Stitch on a weekly basis. Most of the members of the group are just a little out of it, if you know what I mean? Thelma Polk told me that Charlotte’s doctors think the knitting is good therapy. I don’t know about that. I’m not much of a knitter either.
‘Course Jane has taken it up. Shhhh, but I don’t think Jane has much talent for knitting. But she tells me it’s Zen. I have no idea what she means by this. Jane has a lot of funny ideas about things. But she’s sweet and Clay loves her to death. And the two of them are pretty excited about the baby. They went up to Orangeburg not long ago for an ultrasound and we’re definitely getting another granddaughter sometime this summer. They’ve picked out the name Faith. Isn’t that nice? I was afraid Jane might pick something odd, you know, like Sunshine or Rainbow or something like that. But then I’m not one to judge names, seeing as I let Elbert name all of my children. When Rocky rebelled against her name, I felt really bad, you know? Like I should have stood up to Elbert and his funny ideas.
Thank goodness Jane isn’t like that. Faith is sweet and old fashioned. I can’t wait until she’s born and I can rock her to sleep. I do love being a granny.
Jane isn’t the only one in town expecting a little one. I just heard from Millie Polk that her daughter, Rachel, is expecting too. And y’all know that whatever Rachel does, Rocky has to do it too. So I’m waiting to hear news on that front. Y’all will be the first ones to hear any news, I promise. But it would be really nice if Hugh and Rocky would have a baby. That way Jane’s child and their child could be close knit cousins. I think that’s the way families should be.
If you really want to know, the baby gossip in town is mostly focused on Hettie and Bill Ellis. A couple of the menfolk who are members of the volunteer fire department have started an unofficial pool on when Hettie and Bill are going to get pregnant. I think that’s shameful, seeing as he’s a minister and all. Folks ought not to be betting on it. But Bill becoming a daddy is just about the only subject Lillian Bray talks about these days, except when she’s bragging about having finally ended Charlotte Polk’s string of house and garden tour victories. Which we all know is not exactly true, since Charlotte didn’t compete this year. I swear if I wasn’t a polite southern woman I would tell Lillian to shut her mouth. But I won’t. It’s not good for business
I am also not going to remind Lillian that the Methodists have a new, young and unmarried minister. Lillian may have a strange view of Methodists, but I know she sees it as her Christian duty to make sure no minister in Last Chance remains unmarried for long. That should be fun to watch. I’ve wondered if I should give Reverend Foster some warning, but I reckon he’ll find out soon enough.
Well, I’ve got to go. Lessie Anderson just walked in the door for her weekly appointment, and I’ve got to run Lizzy up to her horse camp today on account of the fact that Lark is off in Columbia doing a book signing for her collection of swamp photos. Why anyone would want a coffee table book filled with swamp is beyond me, but Rural Scenes is doing very well, I’ve been told.
Y’all come on by the Cut ‘n Curl if you’re ever in town. We’ve got gossip to share and plenty of hot coffee.
See you soon,
Ruby Rhodes
May 27, 2013
Aunt Annie, my mother’s older sister, was born in 1909, and she never married. Neither did Aunt Frances, my husband’s aunt, who was born in 1916. Both of these ladies lived truly remarkable lives.
Annie D. Ramsay in her nurse's uniform, taken around 1942.
Aunt Annie lived in New York and was a nurse at St. Luke’s hospital for many, many years.
Aunt Frances lived in San Diego and was a commercial artist who did fashion layouts for Burdines. In later years she was an award-winning water colorist living in Selma, Alabama.
Annie and Frances had a lot in common, although neither of them ever met. They were both born in the south, but soon moved away to big cities in the north and west. They were both strong willed and spoke their minds plainly. They were both fiercely independent. And both Annie and Frances served America during World War II.
In fact, Aunt Frances and Aunt Annie are the only veterans in the family. Annie was an Army nurse in England, where she cared for wounded American airmen. Aunt Frances served in the Marines in California doing a variety of clerical jobs.
Frances Lanier, USMC. This is a self-portrait in water color that Frances painted in the 1940s sometime. I do not have any photographs of Frances in uniform. But this little painting, which is unfinished, really captured her.
Aunt Annie passed away a long time ago—in the early 1980s. There were no military honors at her funeral. At the time I didn’t really think much about it. No one did. Her military service was acknowledged in her eulogy, of course, but so was her service as a nurse and a d
edicated church woman. No one ever made a big deal about what she had done during the war. Looking back, I’m really sorry about that. I think for a long time we in America undervalued the service of women in the military, and I know we undervalued that aspect of Annie’s remarkable life.
But times have changed. Aunt Frances passed away last year and she was accorded full military honors at her funeral, including a flag-draped coffin, and four marines as pall bearers. Her flag has a place of honor in our home. My husband was truly moved by the way the marines honored her service to the country. And that is as it should be, for all veterans regardless of gender.
On this Memorial Day, I’m remembering Annie and Frances – two strong women who served their country. Although they are no longer here, they continue to inspire me every day.
March 5, 2013
My mother grew up on a farm in South Carolina and she had some pretty interesting life experiences. One of them was riding a mule. Bareback. While simultaneously reading.
This proved semi-disastrous once when she blundered into a clothes line and ended up on her butt. But, by and large, Mom and her mule and her books were pretty much inseparable.
As a child I thought Mom had it made. I mean, she had a mule. And with a mule you could get from one place to another and read at the same time. I was busy pedaling a bike as a kid. You have to hold the handle bars and balance when riding a bike. You can’t read at the same time, more’s the pity.
So for most of my young life I did most of my reading in the big easy chair in the living room. It was big enough for me and the cat and a small friend. We’re talking the kind of easy chair you could curl up in. I also did a lot of reading in a hammock strung between two live oaks right behind my Uncle’s summer house on the Edisto River in South Carolina. So, as you can see, I was definitely a sedentary and stationary reader. Unlike my mom.
And then, late in life, and dare I say it a few pounds overweight, I discovered the recumbent bike. It was stationary, so you didn’t have to worry about balancing and handlebars. You could pedal away and read at the same time. And then, some years later, after becoming addicted to my recumbent bike (not really, it’s just that I love reading), I got an e-reader. A whole new bunch of stationary conveyances opened up for me and my reading addiction like treadmills and elliptical trainers. I have mastered the art of walking and reading at the same time. But only on a treadmill.
So, of course I don’t actually go anywhere like Mom did. It would be great if I could spend an hour walking to some useful place, like work or the store, get my reading in and then be someplace useful. That would be so utterly productive. Mom was on to something. Maybe I need a mule. Although I don’t think they have mule parking at my grocery store. Darn.
So where do you do most of your reading these days? And anyone who reads while riding bareback mule — and can prove it with a photo — is going to win autographed copies of the entire Last Chance series.
