by Fannie Flagg
“Really?”
“Oh, yes, Norma just got a letter from her last week.”
“Well, that’s good news. Thanks for telling me. How is Norma?”
Aunt Elner laughed. “Still jumpy as a cat, sweet as ever. I’m gonna miss that gal. Little Macky, too.” Elner was sorry that by the time she arrived on the hill, most of the old-timers had already left, but she sure was enjoying the ones who were still there and all the conversations going on. Before people got up to Still Meadows, they just loved to talk about their operations. Now they just loved to talk about how they’d gotten there.
This morning, Mrs. Bell was telling her story again, for at least the tenth time since she’d been there. “So, the doctor calls me in and says, ‘I’m sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Bell, but you have cancer, and I need to start setting up your treatments right away.’ So I said, ‘Don’t be bothering me with all that. I don’t have time to fool with cancer. I’ve got too much to do.’ So I walked out of there and lived another five years. But you know when it’s your time, it’s your time, and it was mine, so I have no complaints, but here’s the funny part. I died of a heart attack.”
Gustav said, “I don’t know if you know this, Elner, but a tick got me.”
“Oh, no, where did you get a tick?”
“Alaska. Got it off a moose I shot. The bite got infected, and I was gone in a week.”
“That old moose certainly got even.”
He laughed. “Yeah, now that I think of it, he did.”
Macky was sitting in the window of the coffee shop having his lunch when Tommy Lindquist, Jr., the new high school football hero of the hour, strolled by. Macky watched as everyone went out of their way to smile and wave at him.
Macky had once been The Kid, the town’s fair-haired boy who had thrown the winning touchdown and married Norma, the prettiest girl in town. He had been the one who was going to set the world on fire. The one everybody waved to and smiled at. And then one day, he wasn’t.
After he came back from Korea, he had to help his father run the hardware store. He never did try for that professional football career everybody thought he would have.
Now he was going a little bald, his knees were bad, and somebody else was The Kid. He and his contemporaries had been pushed aside to make room for the next wet-behind-the-ears gang coming up behind them. Now he was just another aging nobody sitting around watching the new kid strut around town, so sure of himself, so sure life would stay this way forever. It wouldn’t do any good to tell him how fast his big-shot days would be over, how soon he would find himself wondering what had happened, still thinking he was just getting started in life, then having to realize it was almost over. What was that song? “Is That All There Is?” Surely there must be more to life than this.
God, he usually wasn’t this maudlin. He missed Aunt Elner, he guessed. It was hard to realize he would never see her again. He had known her since he was a boy. His parents used to buy eggs from her, and then he married her niece. And up until the day she died, she had called him “Little Macky” and had always made him feel young. Jesus Christ, what the hell was the matter with him? He was sitting in the window feeling sorry for himself, he guessed. God…life gets away from you so fast. Stupid things distract you, and by the time you realize it, it’s too late, and you wind up some old fart whose time has passed, being jealous of some kid.
When the young waitress walked by, she noticed he was wiping his eyes and blowing his nose on a napkin. “Mr. Warren, are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” Macky sniffed. “I’m just fighting a cold.”
“More coffee?”
“Sure. So, Becky, are you still planning to take off in the fall and go to community college?”
Becky frowned a little. “You know…I’m not sure, Mr. Warren. It depends.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what. If it’s a matter of money, Norma and I will be happy to float you a loan.”
Becky was overwhelmed. “Really, Mr. Warren?”
“Hell, yes.” Then he looked at her. “Don’t stay here, Becky. Go now, honey. Don’t wait.”
Besides being with her beloved Will and so many friends and family again, what made coming up to Still Meadows especially nice for Elner was that within a few years, the last of her old neighbors would be joining her. Verbena, Ruby, and Tot had all bought their plots around the same time and, happily, they were in the same area. It was just like old times. Same people, different address. Verbena came first, and she came up with a bang, literally.
When word got out at Still Meadows that Verbena Wheeler had arrived, Elner Shimfissle in particular was happy to have her old friend back. After Verbena said hello to her relatives, Elner was the next to greet her.
“Hey, Verbena, I’m so glad you’re here, I missed you.”
“I missed you, too, I went to your funeral and sent you flowers.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reciprocate.”
“That’s all right. You know, Elner, Luther Griggs bought your old house.”
“Yes, I know. How do you feel, honey?”
“Well, I feel good. My hip doesn’t hurt anymore, but I don’t mind telling you, Elner, I’m not happy.”
Elner was surprised to hear it. “Oh? Why not, hon?”
“I hate that I’m dead, that’s why. I’ve been saving for ten years to be able to make that trip to California, and now I’m not ever going, and the ticket was nonrefundable.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. How did it happen—were you sick?”
“That’s the other thing. All my life, I just knew I’d die funny. Here I lived my whole life trying to be a lady. I never cussed, I never smoked in public. You know, Elner, I always carried a clean handkerchief, never missed a Sunday service, and then at the end, my damn toilet exploded and shot me right through the ceiling.”
“Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes. I hope to God they kept it out of my obit. And I’ll tell you something else. Justin Klump has no more business calling himself a plumber than a chicken does an ice-skater. When the thing first started acting up, I told Merle to call O’Dell Plumbing. But no, he said they were too expensive. You know what a cheapskate he is. Remember when he bought all that surplus artificial grass? None of it was the same color. And that secondhand walk-in tub? The thing never did work. Always penny-wise and pound-foolish. And I hope he enjoys that extra ten dollars he saved. Now I’m dead, and he’s a widower.”
“I’m so sorry you missed your trip to California, but try to look on the bright side. At least you didn’t die young.”
—
ELNER WAS SO GLAD Luther had bought her old house. He had practically been raised there.
Luther had done so poorly in high school that he had almost been ready to give up, but Elner had kept saying to him, “Honey, everybody is good at something. The trick is to find out what it is.” And thankfully, he had. Right after high school, he got a job through Ander over at the dairy, driving a fourteen-wheeler truck. And for a boy who had a D average, he made very good money and had been able to marry his girlfriend, Bobby Jo.
Unfortunately for Bobby Jo, Luther’s idea of a good time was to pack up and drag her to every auto, truck, and recreational vehicle show within five hundred miles. He said, “It’s business, honey. In my line of work, I have to keep up with all the latest automotive innovations.” Of course, that was a bald-faced lie. He just loved cars and trucks.
Cathy Calvert was in a real dilemma over how to word Verbena Wheeler’s obit. Her father, who had started the newspaper, had always stated cause of death, and now her readers had a flying fit if she didn’t include it.
She had tried leaving it out once when old Mrs. Speir had eaten a bad oyster at Arnold’s Seafood Restaurant (Arnold was one of her biggest advertisers, and Mrs. Speir was 102), but her subscribers had burned up the phone lines.
“Why did she die?”
“I want to know what killed her!”
“Don’t just say she died. We want
details.”
She learned the hard way to never withhold pertinent information, and Arnold’s went out of business anyway. But this was different. Verbena Wheeler’s demise was an extremely delicate situation that walked the line between the public’s right to know and a titillating invasion of privacy. And so, after wrestling with just exactly how to word it, Cathy skimmed over the specific details with the phrase “fluke and tragic household accident.”
But even though she tried her best to protect Verbena, word spread, and everyone found out exactly what had happened, especially after Merle sued Klump Plumbing, and the details came out. And yes, some insensitive people did have to suppress the tendency to laugh at the thought that someone flushing their toilet had caused it to explode, sending it and its occupant straight up through the ceiling.
However, the real tragedy of Verbena’s demise was that on the day in question, Verbena hadn’t really needed to use the bathroom. She was on her way out to the store and sat down, just in case. A completely preemptive gesture on her part. And when nothing happened, she’d flushed the toilet only out of habit. Of course, this was something only Verbena knew and did not share.
—
THREE MONTHS LATER, VERBENA’S husband, Merle, arrived. After he had been greeted by Lucille Beemer, he said, “So, this is the hereafter…the great by and by I’ve heard so much about.”
“That’s correct, Merle.”
“Well, thanks for your welcome and all the information, Lucille. But let me get this straight. You say that sometimes people up here just disappear?”
“Yes.”
“And nobody has ever come back?”
“No, and until one does, I’m afraid it remains a mystery.”
Elner Shimfissle, as was her habit, suddenly started singing, “Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you.”
Birdie Swensen whispered to her husband, “Why is it that the ones who can’t carry a tune are always the ones singing?”
Norma was feeling blue. This was her first Christmas without Aunt Elner, and to make things worse, when she woke up on Christmas morning, Macky was gone. That was not like him. And on Christmas, too, when he knew darn well she was depressed. She got up, put on her robe and slippers, and went down to the kitchen. The coffee was on, but Macky and his car were gone, and there was no note. He usually left a note. What in the world? She called his cellphone number, and, after a long time he picked up.
“Where are you?”
“Sorry. I had to run out a minute, but I’m on my way home.” And then he hung up. She fixed herself a cup of coffee and went back upstairs. Now she was irritated. He knew it scared her to wake up alone with no note or anything. About five minutes later, she heard the front door.
When she came back downstairs, he was sitting in the living room grinning from ear to ear, and she saw that there was now a large package under the tree.
She sighed. “Oh, Macky. I told you not to get me anything. We promised no presents this year.”
“Open it,” he said.
“All right…but I hope you didn’t go and spend a lot of money. Let me get some more coffee.”
“No, I want you to open it now.”
As she walked over, she heard some strange sounds coming from the package. “What in the world?” When she pulled the paper off the top and looked inside, there was a litter of six gray striped kittens all mewing at the same time.
“Oh, my God. Macky, have you lost your mind? Where did you get these cats?”
“Santa Claus left them,” he said.
“I can’t believe you have brought these things in the house. What are they?” As she was talking, one of the kittens climbed up out of the box. When Norma picked it up, it started to purr like a little motor.
“Oh, Macky,” she said, glaring at him. “I could just kill you. That’s all I need is a bunch of ugly smelly stray cats to take care of.”
—
THEY SPENT THE NEXT few days buying toys, kitty litter, cat food, and playing with the kittens. It was the best Christmas they had spent in a long time.
A few months later, they found homes for three of the kittens and kept the rest. All girls. The one they named Elner ripped up Norma’s good curtains, but somehow, she didn’t care.
It was a happy day for Elner and Verbena. Their old friend Ruby arrived and was pleased about it as well. “Oh, I just feel so at home up here, with all my old neighbors beside me. After you two gals left, I broke my hip and wound up in a wheelchair. I couldn’t go anywhere, do anything. And there wasn’t a thing good on television anymore. I was getting bored out of my gourd.”
“So nothing exciting has happened since we left?” asked Verbena.
“No, not a thing. Oh, except that Dr. Orr got himself all embroiled in a scandal.”
“Who?” asked Elner.
“Dr. Orr, the dentist. The one that was a dentist by day and Elvis impersonator at night. He used to go over to the Red Barn and perform sometimes. He said he preferred being called a ‘tribute artist,’ but he was an Elvis impersonator, no matter what he called himself.”
“What happened to him?”
“Oh, well, he got caught with his dental assistant out at some motel…and he had to skedaddle out of town in a hurry. Her husband said he’d shoot him on sight if he ever saw him again.”
“Well, I guess that’s the end of his performing days, don’t you reckon?” said Elner.
“I would say so.”
Verbena said, “Well, shoot. I’m kinda sorry I missed that.”
Elner then said, “Hey, Ruby, have you heard anything about Hanna Marie?”
“No, honey, nobody has. She’s just become a regular recluse.”
Verbena jumped in. “How is that crazy Tot doing?”
Ruby laughed. “Oh, you know Tot. Same as ever, drinking coffee, still smoking cigarettes. I’m sure she’ll be up here pretty soon.”
The ladies had not been aware of it, but Beatrice and Ander had heard the conversation about Hanna Marie. Beatrice said, “That’s not like her, Ander. Something must be wrong.”
2008
Norma walked up the wooden stairs to Aunt Elner’s old house and looked around. It didn’t look the same. The old fig tree in the side yard that Aunt Elner had fallen out of looked a little weary. And the dark green plastic chairs from Walmart that Luther and Bobby Jo Griggs had out on the porch did not lend themselves to the charm of the house. Aunt Elner had had a white iron glider swing with yellow and white polka-dotted cushions and two white chairs on the porch, and it had looked so cheery. Oh, well, it’s their house now. Norma knocked on the screen door, but nobody was home. She saw through the door that the cat cage sitting in the hall had a note attached. Sonny, Aunt Elner’s orange cat, was inside the cage. She went in and read the note:
Had to run, Norma. Here he is.
—Bobby Jo
Norma picked up the cat and drove over to the cemetery. When she reached Aunt Elner’s grave, she noticed a new pot of plastic yellow flowers someone had left. She knew it must have been Tot. She meant well, but Lord, they were ugly. She moved them just a little to the side and said, “Hello, Aunt Elner, it’s Norma. I don’t know if you remember or not, but today is your birthday. So happy birthday! Macky and Linda send you their best wishes. I’ve brought you some fresh flowers, and I also brought Sonny out here to see you. I knew you’d like that.” She put the cat down on the grave, facing the tombstone. Sonny seemed only somewhat interested in where he was.
Norma then pulled a small tin container out of the ground, walked over to the faucet, and filled it with water. As she was arranging the flowers, she continued talking. “You know, Aunt Elner, when you were still alive, you used to get on my nerves so bad calling night and day, asking all your crazy questions, but now that you’re gone, you have no idea how much I miss you. I must go to the phone ten times a day to call you. And when our phone rings, my first thought is, ‘Oh, that’s Aunt Elner calling,’ but, of course, it isn’t.” She
sighed. “I knew I’d miss you. I just didn’t know how much. Macky, too…he misses not having coffee with you every morning….Well, I’m going to run over to Mother and Daddy’s plot and say hello, but I’m going to leave Sonny to visit with you for a while.”
Every time Norma came out to the cemetery, she was appalled at how the look of it had changed and not for the better. The beautiful wooden arch with the carved flowers had been knocked down by the tornado and had never been replaced. The roads needed repaving, and the grass was getting spotty. She remembered when it was all lush green grass, and the whole cemetery was full of fresh flowers, neatly arranged. Today she saw that somebody had left their old potato chip bag on the ground.
And the headstones! Norma knew that men sometimes included a small Masonic symbol on their gravestones or a small insignia of a military branch they’d served in, but since when was a carving of an eighteen-wheeler truck or a motorcycle considered a proper gravestone motif? There were just no guidelines or rules anymore or any kind of cohesive look to the place. It was all a mishmash. A bench here, a round ball here, a new, large shiny black headstone next to a small cement sheep from the twenties. It was like putting a McDonald’s next to a lovely home.
She really was not a snob. Norma understood not being able to afford things, but it was getting harder every day to hold on to whatever semblance of decorum and civility was left in the world, especially with all the insane things going on on the TV all day. And now the one place you’d think you could depend on for peace and quiet and beauty was not the same. But what could she do? People had even started putting snapshots of themselves on their gravestones. It was so unnerving to walk by and see dead people smiling at you. How did they do it? She wouldn’t know how to begin to pick out a picture of herself that she would want people to see forever.
