Stacy Matthews - Dear Mary 01 - Think Twice Before You Order

by Stacy Matthews

  As we were pulling up to Grandpa’s house it was like entering the Twilight Zone. Nothing in the neighborhood had changed. No matter how often I come back I am still in awe at the Berger’s, four houses down, they still have the lovely and apparently timeless ornaments in their yard. I swear they are the same ones they had when I was in the fourth grade. Goes to show you if you take care of your things they will last forever. Grandpa’s house is on Newton between Fourth Street and Sixth Street. A beautiful brick ranch with wood shutters, and a yard that is always the envy of the block. Grandpa isn’t the yard ornament type. There are neatly shaped shrubs, and flowerbeds around the trees. The yard is the one thing he makes sure is kept up. My father was like that as well. I don’t know how that gene skipped me, but it did. That may have also played a part in what drew me to New York; no lawns. I paid the driver and started up the walk. I knocked on the front door, despite my urge to bust in and find him ten feet from the phone. It is his house and I needed to be considerate of his privacy, for now.

  When he didn’t come to the door, I walked around the house. No windows broken, no doors pried open. Just like the police said. Nothing to indicate something was wrong. I went back to the front door. I thought I had waited the appropriate amount of time for him to get up, put on a robe, and get to the door. I knew there would be a key under the welcome mat, so I let myself in. As the door opened I yelled “Grandpa it’s me, Sid your granddaughter, are you home?” There was no reply. I have no idea why I said my name. At this point I’m fairly certain I’m the only granddaughter he has.

  The house was quiet and dark. Of course my mind jumped straight to “he’s probably unconscious by now from the pain and or lack of water.” I flipped the switch and the lights in the living room came on. I haven’t been in this house since I was seven years old and it looks exactly like I remember.

  Considering the year the house was built it has a very open floor plan. From the doorway I could see the living room, dining room, and a small part of the kitchen. None of which had an unconscious man on the floor. As I made my way to hisbedroom, I checked all of the rooms down the hall, three other bedrooms and the bath. I can’t believe it. You can fit almost two of my apartments into just this section of the house. He is fifty some years older than me and yet this house is cleaner than my 500-square-foot apartment. It appears the cleaning gene skipped me as well. It's amazing how much I'm learning about myself. Even more amazing is the fact that I'm actually writing it down.

  I had tried to convince Grandpa to let the E-Mafia do a little bit to help him. Maybe let them cook for him or some light housekeeping and laundry. He refused. Said those women had been trying to get to him since the day Grandma died. Turns out he had been doing all of it on his own, and I am the one who is in need of someone to keep things in order, and would gladly pay for them to do it.

  I made it to his room. Seeing as how the first two scenarios hadn’t played out, thankfully, the obvious conclusion was when I opened the bedroom door he would be lying across the bed. I kept my fingers crossed, took a deep breath, and opened the door. The bed was neatly made and no one was draped across it. I went to the bathroom and checked the medicine cabinet. Everything was there, medicines, toothbrush, and shaving kit. I checked the closet and it appeared all of his clothes were there. If he has gone on a trip he's going to have to buy everything new. Nothing seemed to be out of place. I made my way to the kitchen. No dishes in the sink, overflowing trash or recyclables stacked up waiting to be taken to the bin.

  I am a much worse housekeeper than I thought. I knew I was bad, but this is getting ridiculous. I thought maybe one of his friends would know something, so I went to the “information center” as Grandpa likes to call it. It’s the desk against the wall as you come in the kitchen. Even that was organized. Above the desk is a bulletin board where he keeps a lot of pictures, coupons, and little clippings from the newspaper. It's also where the phone is located. As I was going through the drawers to find the address book, I happened to notice several pictures of Grandpa and a woman I've never seen before. They looked to be very close. Okay I can deal with this; Grandpa has a girlfriend. I am a little surprised that he hadn’t mentioned it to me. I thought we were closer than that, but I guess not. From the looks of it, they have been together for a little while. There were pictures of them in the backyard, by the lake fishing, and what looked to be like a party at someone’s house. She is a very pretty woman, a little young for him I think, actually a lot young. She can’t be much older than me, but I am glad to see he is getting out.

  I found the address book and started thumbing through it. At the front of the book there was the name Dr. Niemeyer and a phone number out to the side. That was really the only name and number I didn’t recognize. The rest of the book is filled with the numerous friends of my grandparents, most of whom live here in town and a couple of distant relatives on Grandma’s side of the family. I know Grandpa has a lot of friends, but not only would Charlie know where or what Grandpa is up to, he would most likely be up to it with him. It’s four thirty in the morning so I’ll wait and call him around seven. I’m going to try and take a nap.

  Later

  June 7th

  Dear Mary,

  Well, I got a couple hours of sleep. I tried calling Charlie at seven. According to his answering machine, he’s out of town until tomorrow. I left a message on his machine letting him know I was in town and why. Being here in Grandpa’s house has made me think about my Mom and Dad and how much I miss them.

  My parents were William James Graham and Patricia Lee Graham. My Mom died of stomach cancer when I was forty-one. My Dad died the year after that. I think he mourned himself to death. I couldn't have asked for better parents. People who believe in reincarnation say you are spiritually connected to the same people each lifetime in one way or another. If there is such a thing, I hope with all my heart those two will be my parents every time I come back. They were fun to hang out with and were always supportive of anything I did. Believe me I had several things I wanted to do. I took acting lessons, dance lessons, flute lessons. I had to quit the flute lessons; the teacher said I didn't have the lips for it.

  I don't know how my Mom did it. That woman drove me all over town just so I could do what I was interested in at the time. She would sit and wait for the lesson to be over then drive us all the way back home. That's one of the reasons I don't think I would be a good mother. I know me, and I wouldn't want to take little Bobby to Cub Scouts or karate. I would be more of a “Don’t you know someone who has good parents that you can catch a ride with?” parent. I would want to be as good of a mother as mine was to me, and deep down I know I just don't have it in me.

  My Dad was a funny guy. He was an accountant. You never see funny accountants. At least I never have. He taught me how to play baseball, basketball, and all the usual sports every kid plays. He was a great Dad. We would go out into the backyard and pitch a tent. We would have a small fire and make s’mores. I loved doing that. Of course Mom would never come out and join us. I'm pretty sure that's why we only ever camped in the backyard. Dad knew that roughing it for Mom was when room service was late, and he didn't want to leave her by herself for a weekend. She always said she got the best husband around. I have to agree with her on that one. My Mom's parents were killed in a car accident before I was born, so I know absolutely nothing about them. My mom told me stories about them but it’s not the same.

  Even after my parents were married for forty-five years, they acted like they were still in high school. They would sit on the couch together, hold hands and watch TV. They loved each other so much. That’s what I want in a relationship and I don't think that's asking for too much.

  While I have this time off I think I should focus on my relationship with Grandpa, and what path I would like to see my life take. I thought a walk would do me some good and give me time to think. Boy was I wrong.

  Unfortunately I was half way down the driveway before I saw Mrs. Ruby in her fro
nt yard. If she gets you cornered you will be talking to her for the next hour. I tried to turn around make it back to the front door as fast as possible without looking like I was running. I should have just run.

  The Ruby’s have lived next to Grandma and Grandpa for as long as I can remember. I’m not exactly sure when Mr. Ruby died, but Mrs. Ruby has always sort of been the neighborhood watchdog. Nothing and I mean nothing, ever went on around here without her knowing about it. You either loved her or hated her. Towards the end Grandma loved her. Grandma told my Mom she felt safe knowing Mrs. Ruby was watching the house when they were gone; she was better than an alarm system and cheaper than getting a dog. Grandma didn't like it when Mrs. Ruby would come over after she had a few of her “refreshments,” that’s code for whatever beer was on sale.

  Grandpa has never liked her. He says he cannot do anything without her knowing about it, and he feels like he is under house arrest. He told me in the last couple of years she only leaves the house two or three days a week now, Sundays for church and a couple of evenings for potlucks with some of the other widows in the neighborhood. Grandpa says the rest of her time is spent either out in the yard or peering out one of her windows. Even though she is getting on in years, she still knows everything about everyone. I think Grandpa was counting on the nosiness slowing down as she got older, no such luck.

  I made it back to the door and could have pretended that I didn’t hear her, but I knew everyone in the neighborhood heard her calling “yooouuuu whoooo Sid!” over and over. Besides I knew I would have to talk to her sooner or later so it may as well have been then.

  She really hasn’t changed over the years. She’s about five feet tall. Has salt and pepper hair, and still goes to the beauty shop every week to get it done. When she’s home and puttering around the house she wears one of her housedresses, and they aren’t just any old housedresses. These babies are chock-full of flower prints. Some have huge flowers on them; some have little itty-bitty flowers all over them. The ones with the itty-bitty flowers make you feel like you’re looking at a poster, one that if you stare at long enough you’ll see some kind of picture or it just makes you really dizzy. I would imagine she has between forty and fifty of these beauties. They used to be the kind with the snap buttons. Now that she is older they are the kind that zips up the front. If she is out in the yard she has on her gardening outfit, which is a nice pair of Capri pants usually khaki or some version of brown, a lovely blouse, tennis shoes, and of course her straw hat.

  When my mom and I went out shopping for a gardening hat we would call it a “Mrs. Ruby hat”. They were hats with a huge brim so your face wouldn’t get sunburned while you were outside. When my mom finally found one she got one of the worst sunburns she ever had. Somehow it did the opposite and reflected the sun directly onto her face.

  After Mr. Ruby died Mrs. Ruby became fairly religious; however she still loves her “refreshments." I think she was genuinely happy to see me, not just trying to get info out of me. Of course she knew exactly when I got here. I don’t think she ever sleeps and I swear those are screen marks on her face and not wrinkles.

  At first the conversation was the typical, how are things in New York, do you like what you’re doing, blah, blah, blah. Then it got a little interesting. She said with so many people coming and going at Grandpa’s house she didn’t know if I would have time to stop by and talk to her. I asked her what she meant. She said since that young woman started living with Grandpa it seemed like someone was constantly coming and going and she was getting tired of the late night traffic.

  You would have been proud of me. I didn’t get hysterical or start talking fast or anything. I calmly asked her if she had ever talked to Grandpa about the young girl. Get this, she say’s “Oh no dear, I think that would be intruding. I believe people should mind their own business.” I wanted to scream, “Since when”? But I didn’t. I told her I agreed with her completely and asked when she last saw Grandpa. She said it had probably been three or four days but that she honestly couldn’t remember with church, potlucks, and everything else. So Grandpa has a girlfriend living with him, and late night guests, interesting.

  We talked for a little longer, and then I came back into the house. I don’t mind telling you Mary, I am quite disappointed with Mrs. Ruby. All of this church and potluck stuff is definitely getting in the way of her snooping. She didn’t have half the gossip she used to. I wish Charlie would call, I am sure he will know what’s going on, and who Grandpa’s girlfriend is. I think I’ll go for a drive instead. See if any new businesses have opened up since I was here last.

  Later

  Later

  Dear Mary,

  I drove to the cemetery and put some flowers on the graves. I have to say they keep the cemetery here in much better shape than others I’ve seen. The grass was cut and each headstone had flowers. It certainly would be nice if all cemeteries were kept that way. I never really gave much thought to this kind of stuff before, but I do now.

  Not a lot has changed from the last time I was here. It’s funny how you don’t think of things or people from your childhood as getting older or changing. When you drive into Edwardsville, even though it is a four-lane highway, with all of the greenery on either side it feels more like driving down a country lane than a highway. The whole town is only twelve square miles and has about forty-five hundred residents.

  The train tracks split the town in two. On the north side of the tracks are churches, schools, homes, and lots of farmland. The south side of the tracks would be considered more the “downtown” area. When I was a kid, downtown was conveniently located at the end of Third Street, which was about fifty yards south of Newton, the street I lived on. Downtown consisted of the post office, bank, fire and police stations, a grocery store, Betty’s beauty shop and of course Eddie’s barber shop. Apparently you can’t have a small country town without a barber and beauty shop. At that time downtown was roughly a block and half long, and the businesses occupied both sides of the street. The only thing behind the business and at the end of the street, were cornfields and wheat fields.

  Both the Police and Fire departments were the first buildings you came to. The fire department is on the east side of the street and police department on the west side of the street. If you were in need of a fire truck or the police and you lived on the North side of the tracks, you just had to hope there wasn’t a train blocking them.

  The post office is next to the fire department. It’s an old stone building that looks like it was built in the 1800s and probably was. There are apartments above the post office. I wanted to live there so bad, but Dad said they wouldn't rent an apartment to a ten year old, just my luck. It still looks the same today, maybe a little older, but I think those kind of buildings looked old when they were built. I’m not sure who owns the building, but they do a great job of keeping it up. Next to the post office is Eddie’s barbershop. That is where all the old guys would go to play checkers and gossip, even though they don’t like to admit they were gossiping. Next to Eddie’s was an empty building and the guys were trying to convince Eddie to expand the barbershop. Across the street from the Post Office, and next to the police department on the west side, was where the old bank and general store used to be. There was an empty lot next to it, and that is where they built the new bank back in 1976. The general store went out of business when they built the new bank. At Christmas they used to have a bonfire in that empty lot. Everyone would drink hot chocolate and sing Christmas carols. I know it sounds kind of hokey, but it was so much fun. You knew everybody there. It was like a family reunion, only you liked all of them. They don’t do that anymore; kind of sad.

  Betty’s was next to the new bank, and the grocery store was next to Betty’s. Most of the women in town went to Betty’s to get their hair done at least once a week. Of course the beauty shop is where the women would get the reliable information about anything going on in town. My mother always said there might have been a little bit of gossip
ing, but most of the time they were either talking about their children or exchanging recipes.

  All of the numbered streets in town run north to south. At that time there were only three ways into the south side of town, all of which were crossed by train tracks. There are seven streets total that connect to Newton, third through ninth streets. Ninth Street was a dirt road, and the only road that went all the way down to the river.

  Back then none of the railroad crossings had the warning arms that come down when a train is coming through. We didn’t get those until much later. The trains used to go through town a lot slower than they do now.

  The hobos would jump off the train at the Ninth Street crossing and walk down to the river, which is about a mile south of the tracks. All of the kids were told to stay away from that crossing. That was okay by us; we liked the Fifth Street crossing better. During the summer, the trees on both sides of the track bent over and gave the impression of a tunnel made out of trees. It also had a creek and a rope swing. We would ride our bikes down there and play for hours, catching tadpoles and making forts. We wanted to camp out down there and have a campfire, but all of the parents said no. What are you going to do?

  When I was twelve or thirteen the city closed the crossing at Fifth Street because there had been too many people that thought if they drove fast enough they could beat the train to the crossing. The only thing they managed to do was get themselves killed. When they closed that crossing they also put in the warning arms at the other two crossings.

  The main part of town is still pretty much the same. I remember when we got THE stoplight. Now THAT was a big deal.

  I thought I should come back to the house in case Charlie called, and it’s a good thing I did. He called just as I was walking in the door. He said he had checked his messages and couldn’t believe I was in town. I told him about the pictures I had found, and the conversation I had with Mrs. Ruby. He said I shouldn’t listen to Mrs. Ruby because she makes up most of what she tells people. According to Charlie she has her refreshments on a more regular basis now.