The Whole Town's Talking

by Fannie Flagg

  It had been a military funeral, and he was proud when the soldier took the American flag off of his coffin, folded it, and handed it to his mother, but then he had to look away. The look on his mother’s face hurt him too much. He must have drifted off again because when he woke up, he felt himself being lowered into the ground. After a moment, he heard a very familiar voice say, “Hello there, young man. Welcome to Still Meadows.”

  “Miss Beemer? Is that you? Do you remember me? It’s Gene Nordstrom. I had you in the sixth grade.”

  “Little Gene. Of course, I remember you…but what in the world are you doing here?”

  “I got killed in the war, Miss Beemer.”

  “Oh, you don’t mean it. Well, bless your heart. Oh, I know your parents must be so upset.”

  “Yes, ma’am, they are.”

  “Of course, they would be. I remember when you were in my class, I told your mother…I said, ‘Mrs. Nordstrom, Gene is one of the sweetest boys I have ever taught.’ Well, I sure am sorry.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it.”

  “What happened, honey?”

  “I got shot, but it didn’t hurt or anything.”

  “Well, I’ll be. You just never know in this world, do you?”

  “No, ma’am. You sure don’t.”

  Gene heard someone snoring. “Miss Beemer, who’s that over there?”

  “That’s Eustus Percy Hendersen. He’s awake a lot more than he pretends to be.” Then she asked in a loud voice, “Are you awake, Mr. Hendersen?”

  “Well, I am now,” said the old man.

  “Mr. Hendersen, this is Gene Nordstrom. He used to be one of my students.”

  Gene said, “How do you do.”

  Mr. Hendersen nodded. “What’s that uniform?”

  “I’m in the marine corps. Or I used to be.”

  Lucille said, “He got killed in the war, Mr. Hendersen.”

  “What war?”

  “The Second World War.”

  “The second? You mean there was another one? Who are we fighting this time?”

  “Germany and Japan,” answered Lucille.

  Mr. Hendersen said, “Germany? Hell. We licked them once. What the hell are we doing fighting them again? It figures….That’s the most ornery bunch that ever was. Who else did you say?”

  “Japan, Mr. Hendersen,” said Lucille. “Haven’t you heard us all talking about it?”

  “No, I don’t listen to all that yimmer yammering. Japan…huh…well, that’s nothing to worry about. Hell, they ain’t no bigger than a minute.”

  Gene said, “Yes, sir…but there’s an awful lot of them.”

  Lucille decided to change the subject. “I was telling Gene a little while ago that he was one of the sweetest boys I ever taught, but then his mother and daddy are sweet people. I taught his aunt Elner, too.”

  Mr. Hendersen grunted. “You’re not going to have a whole bunch of relatives stomping around here, are you?”

  “Mr. Hendersen, let’s just let the boy rest for now. He just got here.”

  —

  A FEW MINUTES WENT BY, and Gene said, “Miss Beemer?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Did you know I got married?”

  “No, I didn’t. Is she an Elmwood Springs girl? Do I know her?”

  “No, ma’am, she’s not from here. But you’d like her. I have a little girl, too. I haven’t seen her yet, but I’m sure they’ll come to visit pretty soon.”

  “Well, that will give you something to look forward to, won’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why don’t you try and see if you can’t get a little sleep. I know you must be worn out.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

  “I’ll wake you up if anybody comes to visit.”

  “Thank you. Like I say, I am expecting my wife and little girl, so if you could…”

  “Don’t worry, I’m a light sleeper. I promise. I’ll let you know the minute they get here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Gene closed his eyes, but before he drifted off to sleep, he thought that if somebody had told him he would wind up buried next to his sixth-grade teacher, he wouldn’t have believed them in a million years.

  —

  GENE’S DEATH HIT the town hard. Nordstrom’s Bakery closed, and the town’s flag flew at half-mast. Gene was the first boy they had ever lost in a war, and it had an effect on almost every person there. They had all watched him grow up. He had mowed their lawns, delivered their papers, and quarterbacked their football team. Even the younger people who had never met him had seen his picture in the bakery window and felt the sadness that was everywhere. People didn’t know what to say to Gerta and Ted. So they mostly just left little notes on their porch to let them know they were thinking about them. Elner sensed that it was best not to say anything. What could you possibly say?

  After Gene had gone off to training camp, Gerta had kept his room exactly as it was the day he left. Same pictures on the wall, same bedspread. It was almost as if the room didn’t know he was not coming back and was expecting him to walk in at any moment.

  Gerta now sat in his bedroom every day, looking at all the things he had collected over the years. The little metal car on his desk, the model airplane hanging from the ceiling, a box of marbles, an old broken yo-yo. She realized the items could not bring Gene back, but they reminded her of when he was still there.

  —

  HERBERT JENKINS, THE PRESIDENT of the bank, waited a few weeks, then one day walked over to his sister-in-law’s house to have the talk he hated to have. The one he knew would be so painful for Ted and Gerta.

  He wasn’t supposed to, but he had taken the liberty of closing down Gene’s savings account that he had started when he was twelve. Gene had been saving all the money he had earned during the summers and after school, and it came up to almost eight hundred dollars. Herbert sat them both down, then handed them the check.

  “I thought you might want this to…well…do whatever.”

  Ted looked at it. “I had no idea. Are you sure this was all Gene’s? It seems like so much.”

  “Oh, yes. Don’t forget, it’s been collecting interest all these years.”

  Gerta looked at Ted and said, “This should go to Marion. We’ll give it to her when she gets here.”

  “Is she coming to town?”

  “Yes, just as soon as the baby is old enough to travel.”

  “Good, that should help a little with expenses and all.”

  “Well…we sure do thank you, Herbert, for coming over.”

  “Oh, you’re so welcome. Anytime you need anything, just call us. Ida sends her love.”

  —

  HE DIDN’T TELL THEM, but he and Ida had added an extra two hundred dollars to the account. Most people didn’t know it, but even with all of her airs, Ida could be almost human at times.

  When Gene Nordstrom woke up again, Lucille Beemer greeted him cheerfully. “Good morning. How are you feeling? A little more rested?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well…quite a few people have been waiting to talk to you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Go ahead, Lordor.”

  “Hello, Gene. I’m your grandfather Nordstrom. You didn’t know me. I died before you were born, but welcome home, son.”

  Gene was astonished. “Oh, wow…Well…hello, sir. Nice to meet you. I played you in the Founder’s Day pageant.”

  “Miss Beemer told me. You did a fine job, too, I hear.”

  “I’ve heard so many great things about you from Dad….Mother, too. She said you were such a nice man. They still have your picture hanging in the living room.”

  “Oh, really, which one?” asked Lordor.

  “I don’t know, sir. You were wearing a dark suit…and a derby hat?”

  Gene suddenly heard a woman laugh. “How well I remember that photo. Hello, Gene, dear, it’s your grandmother.”

  “Grandmother Katrina?”
/>   “Yes.”

  “Really? I can’t believe it. I never thought I’d actually meet you.”

  “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “It sure is. So, umm, Grandmother…would you mind if I asked you a question about something I’ve always wondered about?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Were you really a mail-order bride, or did Dad just make that story up?”

  “No, it’s true. I was.”

  “She’s telling you the truth, Gene,” said Lordor.

  “Wow…what was that like?”

  “Well, back then, we had to do our courting by mail. And when I saw your grandmother’s photograph, that was it.”

  “I see. Well, no wonder. I saw an old-timey picture of you, Grandmother, and you were a real knockout. What did you think of his picture?”

  “I thought he was very clean looking.”

  “So did you get married right away?”

  Lordor answered, “No, it took some time…to get to know each other.”

  “Too long,” Katrina said with a laugh.

  Gene spent the rest of the day meeting other relatives and having people say hello. Because he was such a young man, most of the people who spoke to him were older, including his old high school football coach. “Hey, boy. Welcome back. It’s Coach Cready here.”

  “Coach? I didn’t know you were up here. Nobody told me….”

  “Yeah, well, the old ticker up and quit on me. Just happened a year ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Coach.”

  “Thanks….But listen, boy, I’m mighty proud of you. A marine. Semper fidelis. I was there the day you got on the bus to go to Quantico for training.”

  “Yes, sir, I remember.”

  “How was it? Tough?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But you could take it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you go down fighting?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good boy. So, Gene…what do you think? Do you reckon we’ll win this thing?”

  “Yes, sir. I know we will.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Then the coach proudly made an announcement. “Folks, I just want you to know this boy here was the best damn quarterback Elmwood Springs ever had, and he made a damn good marine, too.”

  —

  GENE WAS AMAZED AT all the people who remembered him and that he had actually met his grandparents. He had heard so many stories about them, but to be able to meet them was something he had never expected. Who would have? Another thing surprised him as well. Nobody had ever told him they both had Swedish accents.

  —

  AS THEY WERE SAYING good night, Lucille Beemer said, “Wasn’t that just wonderful? All these people so happy to see you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it was. But I still don’t quite understand what happened. I mean, I got killed. Why am I still here? Why is everybody still here? I’m a little confused.”

  “Of course you are, honey. We all were. I suppose the best way to explain it is that your body is dead, but you, Gene, are still alive. Does that make sense?”

  “Some…I guess.”

  “I used to question it,” said Lucille, “but not anymore. Nobody really knows how we got here. But I’m just glad we did. But, Gene, dear…now that you’re one of us, there’s a little something else I need to tell you about Still Meadows.”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “And again, we don’t know why it happens, but after they have been here for a while, some of our residents have left…quite unexpectedly.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Well, one day they are here, and the next, they’re not. They just seem to disappear into thin air…and they never come back. At least, none have, yet.”

  “Wow…that’s weird,” said Gene.

  “I don’t want to upset you. I’m only telling you this, so you won’t be caught off guard, if it happens. Good night, Gene, dear.”

  “Good night.”

  Gene was tired, but he did not go right to sleep. That last piece of information about people disappearing was a bit unsettling. At this point, Gene didn’t know if this was good news or bad news. But either way, there was a lot more to being dead than he’d thought.

  A few months later, Gene’s wife, Marion, and their baby boarded a train in San Francisco, headed to Elmwood Springs, Missouri. At last, they were coming.

  Gerta and Ted, Elner and Ida, and Ida’s daughter, Norma, were all to be a part of the welcoming committee meeting the train. They had seen photographs of them but they were anxious to finally get the chance to see them in person.

  Marion was not even Ida Jenkins’s daughter-in-law, but Ida used the occasion to purchase a new outfit for herself and for Norma. She told her husband, “It’s important we make a good first impression on her. After all, she’s from San Francisco. I just hope and pray Elner doesn’t show up in that old cotton housedress and tie-up shoes.” And, of course, Elner did.

  It was a long trip with two train changes along the way, but they finally arrived. The first thing Elner said when she saw the baby was, “Oh my, look at those blue eyes and that blond hair. If she’s not the spitting image of Gene, then I don’t know who is!” Marion was as pretty as Gene had described her and almost as shy. During the ride back to the house, she hardly said a word, but just smiled as they all took turns holding the baby. Gene had told her all about his family, and it was amazing how right he had been in describing them. They all were as nice and as friendly as he had said. Gene had also told her about his aunt Ida Jenkins. At the time, she had thought he’d been kidding, but as it turned out, he hadn’t been. Ida never stopped talking the entire way home.

  The following Sunday, they all went up to Still Meadows to show Marion where Gene was buried. Elner led the way, and when they got to Gene’s grave site, she said, “Here he is, honey.” Then she said, “Here’s your wife and baby…come all the way from San Francisco to see you!” Gene heard her just as plain as day and looked up and saw his baby for the first time.

  Little eleven-month-old Dena Katrina Nordstrom was far too young to know it, but when Gerta and Ted took their new grandbaby all over town and showed her to everyone, people started to feel better, knowing there was a part of Gene that was still here. Pretty soon, the bakery opened up again.

  The people out at Still Meadows heard the commotion going on down in the town, horns blowing, church bells ringing, but they didn’t know why. Things were quiet for a while, and just like everybody, they were concerned about the war. But as luck would have it, just a few days after V-J Day, Mr. Albert Snavely, by way of a burst appendix, came in with the latest news. When he told them what had happened, everyone was stunned.

  “A what?” they asked.

  “An atomic bomb…the biggest bomb that was ever made. Germany surrendered, but not the Japs. They just kept on fighting, so we dropped one bomb. And they still wouldn’t surrender, so old Harry Truman says, ‘Oh, yeah? Well, we’ll see about that.’ He dropped another one…and wham…we had ourselves a surrender in no time, signed, sealed, and delivered.”

  “So the war’s over? We won?”

  “Yes!”

  You could hear everybody all over Still Meadows breathing a sigh of relief. Then Katrina said, “And the boys are coming home?”

  “Any day now.”

  “What about Ada Goodnight?” someone asked. “Is she still flying planes?”

  “She’s already back, and she brought a new husband with her.”

  “You don’t mean it? Oh, my stars…”

  Coach Cready called out, “Hey, Gene…you were right, boy! We won. By God, we won!”

  —

  A FEW WEEKS LATER, Gene Nordstrom had a visitor. He had first met Cooter T. Calvert in the fifth grade, when Cooter’s parents had moved to town. And today, a tall and lanky twenty-two-year-old Cooter, still in his army uniform, had come out to see him.

  Cooter walked up to the grave, stood there for a while, the
n squatted down on his haunches, pushed his hat back, and said, “Hi, buddy. I just got back, and your mom told me you were out here. Damn, Gene…of all the guys to get it, why did it have to be you? The best of the best. Everybody is still real upset. Your mom still has your picture in the window down at the bakery with the gold star. Anyhow…I just wanted to come out and thank you for being such a good friend. I mean, of all the guys, it’s hard to think about you not being here anymore. Shit…it should have been me. I’m just a screwup. But you…we all figured you’d come home and…anyhow…if you hadn’t let me tag along with you all those years and keep me out of trouble, I don’t know…but I’ll tell you what, Gene, I’m gonna do better. I owe that to you. I’m gonna try to live the best life possible…just for you. Your dad says you’re getting a medal—how about that, Kemosabe? I heard you got married and that she’s a real looker, too. You always did get the pretty ones. Anyhow…I don’t know what else to say. Except don’t worry about your folks. I’ll keep an eye on them for you.” He sighed and shook his head. “Oh, man, I just hope this war was worth it. You…of all the guys in the world…why did it have to be you?” Then Cooter, thinking he was alone, broke down and sobbed like a little kid.

  —

  AFTER COOTER LEFT, GENE thought about what he had said. “Was the war worth it?” Gene wondered. If he had to do it all over again, would he still do it? He couldn’t sugarcoat it. He would’ve loved to have had more time. To have had a chance to be a husband, a father to his little girl. He wished like hell he hadn’t been killed, but would he do it all over again? And the answer was yes, he would. He wasn’t a historian or a philosopher, but he knew there had to be at least some free countries left in the world or else there would be no point in living. He was surprised to hear he was getting a medal, though. He wondered what kind of medal and what for? He didn’t remember doing anything heroic.