by Fannie Flagg
Of course, her mother was hysterical, thinking Idgie was going to fall off and be killed any minute. But luckily they were able to telegraph ahead to the next station, and got her down over at Pell City, safe and sound. Growing up, both Idgie and her younger brother, Julian, had idolized their older brother Buddy. He was the one who had taught Idgie to shoot and fish and play football and baseball. And if anyone dared Idgie to do something, she usually did it. Everyone always said she was very brave for a girl.
One time at school, when a boy had thrown a snake into the girls’ bathroom, girls were running everywhere, screaming at the top of their lungs. Everybody but Idgie. She had grabbed the snake and chased that boy across the field, caught him, and stuffed it down his shirt. Reverend Scroggins, the Baptist preacher, heard about the skirmish, and his sermon that Sunday had been Psalm 133:1: “How Very Good and Pleasant It Is When Kindred Live Together in Unity.”
But Idgie hadn’t heard the sermon. As usual on Sunday mornings, she was down at the Warrior River with her brother Buddy, fishing for catfish.
Idgie had always been a little wild at heart, a little restless, but after her big brother Buddy was killed in a train accident, she became even more so. She started spending time down at the River Club, running with a rough bunch, drinking and playing poker in the back room. And nobody could do a thing with her. Not until twenty-one-year-old Ruth Jamison came to Whistle Stop that summer to teach Bible school. For some reason Idgie behaved around Ruth. Her mother said that if Ruth had not come along when she did, she didn’t know what would have become of Idgie. But after Ruth left to go home to Georgia and get married, Idgie reverted back to her old ways.
But then a few years later, when Ruth left her husband and came back to live in Whistle Stop, Idgie’s father gave her five hundred dollars to start a business. So Idgie bought the cafe, and she and Ruth ran it. Momma and Poppa Threadgoode hoped it would help settle Idgie down. And it had. Most of the time. Although, being Idgie, she had still done a few things she shouldn’t have. Things that Ruth didn’t know about.
WHISTLE STOP, ALABAMA
July 8, 1939
THE YEAR RUTH’S little boy was born, he was legally adopted by the Threadgoode family. Ruth had named him Buddy Jr. after the son the Threadgoodes had lost. Momma and Poppa Threadgoode and Idgie’s brothers Cleo and Julian had all stepped in and helped raise him.
Ninny Threadgoode, a sweet lady who was married to Idgie’s brother Cleo, lived just up the street from the cafe. At present, she had a cat who had just given birth to eight kittens. Every day, ten-year-old Buddy would go over to Ninny’s house and play with them for hours. Buddy loved spending time with his Aunt Ninny, and she loved having his company.
One afternoon, when Ninny was over at the cafe visiting with Ruth, she said, “That boy of yours is a real wonder boy.”
Ruth smiled. “Why do you say that?”
Ninny laughed. “Because he’s always a wonderin’ about somethin’ or another. Why do kittens purr, or why do rabbits have long ears? This morning, when he was over at my house, he says to me, ‘Aunt Ninny, I wonder why chickens have feathers and wings, but they don’t fly off anywhere?’ So I said, ‘That’s a good question, honey. If I was a chicken and I saw Sipsey headed toward me with her five-pound skillet, I’d sure fly away if I could.’ ”
Ninny was right about Buddy. Every train that would pass by, he would wonder who was on it. Where were they going? And what were they going to do when they got there?
Of course, Idgie took all his wondering as a sign that Buddy was a genius and was going to do great things one day. And she never quit believing it.
Even after Buddy lost his arm playing over by the railroad tracks, Idgie was determined to keep him doing all the things he had done before. Today they were down at the lake fishing. Buddy stood there on the bank staring across the lake, and then said, “Hey, Aunt Idgie, should I send Peggy Hadley a valentine?”
“Well, why wouldn’t you? You like her, don’t you?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Then sure, you should.”
After a moment he said, “Yeah…but I wonder if she likes me.”
Idgie looked at him. “Well, of course she likes you, Buddy. You? The smartest and handsomest boy in the whole world? Who wouldn’t? Besides, she told me she did.”
“She did?”
“Yep…but don’t tell her I told you.”
Buddy smiled, and then a few minutes later said, “Hey, Aunt Idgie, I wonder why catfish have whiskers.”
“I don’t know, honey, but I think there might be one biting on your line right now.”
Buddy’s eyes grew big. “Whoa!” After a struggle he pulled in his fish. “Wow…look at him, Aunt Idgie. I wonder how much he weighs.”
“Oh, I’d say at least twenty pounds.”
“Do you think so?”
“No, but let’s tell your mother that, okay?”
“Okay.”
Buddy loved his mother, but Aunt Idgie was his best friend—the one who played football and baseball with him. The one who always took him on adventures.
Just last month, Idgie had read in the Farmers’ Almanac that there was to be a huge meteor shower the following Tuesday. That night, they were sitting on the back steps watching all the falling stars streaking across the sky, when Idgie suddenly pulled out her baseball glove, jumped up, and ran out in the yard. After a long moment, she yelled out, “I caught one!” and then ran back and handed it to Buddy.
“Look, Buddy, I’ve caught you a lucky star. You know what that means, don’t ya? You’ve got a lot of good luck coming your way, kiddo.”
Of course, it was just a rock she had scooped up off the ground, but Buddy was delighted with it. And he couldn’t wait to find out what good luck the future would bring.
FAIRHOPE, ALABAMA
December 21, 1964
AT ONE TIME Whistle Stop had been a bustling little railroad town, ten miles from Birmingham, employing over two hundred railroad workers. But as passenger train travel slowly declined, and the big railroad switching yard shut down and moved, people started to find jobs elsewhere, and the town’s population declined too. With so many people leaving, Dot’s weekly newsletters became smaller as the weeks and months went by. People in Whistle Stop tried to hang on as long as they could, but the real beginning of the end was when Idgie Threadgoode suddenly closed down the cafe and moved to Florida. For weeks afterward, old men and little boys kept peeking through the wooden slats on the cafe window, hoping it wasn’t true. But it was. And with the beauty shop and the cafe gone, and then later, when the U.S. Post Office disbanded their Whistle Stop office, what had once been a busy street and the hub of the community was now just one long, empty block. With no real town left, the ones who stayed found themselves stranded out in the country, in the middle of nowhere, with no jobs or places to shop. Eventually, even some of the old diehards like Dot and Wilbur Weems were finally forced to accept the inevitable and leave.
Dot and Wilbur Weems were now living in the little town of Fairhope in south Alabama in a small white house across the street from the Mobile Bay. Dot liked where they had moved, but she still missed her old friends and neighbors from Whistle Stop, all the people that she had grown up with, or the ones she had watched grow up. And even though most had moved somewhere else, Dot had stayed in touch with them. And they had all stayed in touch with her, either by phone or letter, keeping her informed of what they had been up to.
Although she no longer published The Weems Weekly, Dot began to send a Christmas letter each year, to try to keep the old Whistle Stop community connected.
And so as usual at this time of year, Dot was sitting with a pencil behind her ear at her kitchen table, piled with stacks of papers, letters, photos, erasers, and notebooks. She had cleared out a spot for her old Royal typewriter and placed it in the middle of
the mess. She was just about to start writing when her husband, Wilbur, wearing a brown-checked bathrobe, floated through, poured himself a cup of coffee, and then floated back out. He knew not to talk to her when she was working. As soon as he left, she began typing.
CHRISTMAS 1964
Well, gang,
Believe it or not, another year has come and almost gone. And I ask you, is it just me, or is December the twenty-fifth coming around sooner than it used to? Wasn’t it just the Fourth of July a week ago? Christmas slipped up on me so fast this year, I barely had time to get all my notes together, but here goes.
* * *
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News from My Home Front: I am pleased to report that after his fall off the back porch, Wilbur is finally off his walker, and as of this writing not yet “off his rocker.” He says to tell you all hello from him. We so appreciated all the get-well cards and letters you sent him. They sure helped cheer the grumpy old guy up.
As usual, Idgie Threadgoode has gotten our holiday season off to a good start with the arrival of her jars of homemade honey and a big box of oranges from Florida. Idgie says the sun is shining and business is good! She also says her brother Julian is now sporting a brand-new set of teeth and is busy smiling at everyone he sees.
Gladys Kilgore wrote us from Tennessee, and says that Sheriff Grady Kilgore is finally retiring in May, and they plan a trip to Florida to visit Julian and Idgie, and maybe a stop by here on the way back. Here’s hoping.
On a sad note: So sorry to report that Ninny and Cleo Threadgoode’s son, Albert, left us this year. Never met a sweeter boy. I am also sorry to report that Jessie Ray Scroggins’s wife has filed for divorce, again. Too bad. Hopefully they will work it out. Just had word that Sipsey Peavey is not doing well and is now living with her son, Big George, and his wife, Onzell. Sipsey turns ninety-eight on February 11, so be sure and send a card if you can. How many years did Sipsey work at the cafe with Idgie and Ruth? At least twenty-five. And what would you give to have a plate of Sipsey’s fried green tomatoes? I’d give a million, if I had it.
* * *
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News Flash: Opal Butts has moved her beauty shop again, so write her at her new address in Birmingham, c/o The Capri Apartments, 2012 Highland Ave. Opal says it’s a brand-new swinging singles complex, and although she is no spring chicken, she is still having a lot of fun. I am also pleased to report that her daughter, Jewel Ann, is following in her mother’s footsteps and is attending beauty school. Opal says that Jewel plans to specialize in body waves and eyebrow shaping. Never heard of eyebrow shaping, but it must be the latest thing. I myself am still doing pin curls, and letting my eyebrows do what they want to.
Gosh dang it all, gang, I don’t know why, but this year Christmas is making me just a little homesick. Do any of you remember all the wonderful Christmases we used to spend at the cafe, the whole town showing up, cats and dogs included? Sheriff Grady all dressed up as Santa Claus, handing out all the presents? And all the big red shiny balls Idgie hung on that old deer head over the counter? I have so many sweet memories of those days. Remember little Buddy Threadgoode’s special Christmas gift that one year? I do. Who could ever forget the look on his little face?
Of course I’m glad I’m alive now, but sometimes don’t you wish you could just take a magic carpet ride back and relive some of the good old times in Whistle Stop? Are any of you old enough to remember when Idgie Threadgoode was seven years old, and marched in the Fourth of July parade dressed up as Uncle Sam? Never saw a cuter Uncle Sam or prouder parents than Momma and Poppa Threadgoode that day. Or remember the Dill Pickle Club, of which my other half and Idgie were members, and all the mischief they used to pull? Who do you think put the nanny goat on top of Reverend Scroggins’s house? I don’t know for sure but I can guess it was Idgie and her pals. And the “womanless wedding” the club put on for charity, when six-foot-four Sheriff Grady came prissing down the aisle dressed as the lovely bride? Oh my, those are just a few memories of mine. I sure would appreciate your sending me some of your favorite memories of Whistle Stop for next year’s letter.
You all know I like to close on a happy note, and oh boy do I have one this year! On November 9, Buddy and Peggy Threadgoode welcomed a brand-new baby daughter. They’ve named her Norma Ruth, and I know her great aunt Idgie is still jumping up and down over the good news. We just wish Buddy’s mother, Ruth Jamison, could have lived to meet her new little namesake granddaughter. Buddy is still stationed in Germany, serving as a veterinarian in the U.S. Army K-9 Corps, but Peggy says they hope to return stateside within the year. She also writes that the latest artificial arm the army has outfitted Bud with is the best one yet. He’ll sure need two good ones to hold new baby Ruthie. She weighed in at almost eight pounds.
It’s still hard for me to believe that the same two little kids we used to see running barefooted around Whistle Stop are all grown up now with a baby of their own. Oh well, as they say. Semper fidelis.
I’ll sign off for this year, but do come and see us if you can. We live right across the street from the Mobile Bay, and as Wilbur says, “Drop in sometime.” Ha. Ha. Some joke. Men!
So until next year, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!
Your faithful scribe,
Dot
Dot pulled her letter out of the typewriter, and a few seconds later Wilbur, who had been waiting, knocked lightly on the kitchen door. “Are you done?”
“Yes, I think so. Come on in.”
Wilbur, who was dressed and ready to take the letter up to the mimeograph machine at the print shop, walked in, and she handed it to him to read. As usual, Dot was anxious to hear his feedback. As he was still reading she asked, “Well…what do you think?”
He nodded and smiled. “I think it’s great. But, hon, I think you meant to say ‘tempus’ here, not ‘semper fidelis.’ ”
“Doesn’t that mean ‘time flies’?”
“No, ‘semper fidelis’ is the Marine Corps motto.”
“Ooh. That’s right. I don’t know where my mind is this morning. Thank you very muchly, for catching that.”
“You’re welcome very muchly.”
“What would I do without you?”
“I’ve asked myself that question all my life.”
KISSIMMEE, FLORIDA
November 9, 1964
A FEW MONTHS after Idgie Threadgoode had moved to Florida, and with a little help from her brother Julian, she’d opened a brand-new business called the Bee Happy Fresh Honey and Fruit Stand. It was only a wooden shed, but since it sat on the side of a well-traveled road, it did very well.
It was early November, and Bud and Peggy Threadgoode had promised to let Idgie know the minute the baby was born. The time was getting close, and an anxious Idgie had spent days running back and forth from the fruit stand to her house, waiting for word, when the telegram finally came.
She quickly tore it open and read it, and then ran out on the screen porch and yelled at Julian, who lived next door. “Julian! Whoopee! It’s a girl, and they named her after Ruth. Mother and baby both doing fine! Whoopee!” She was so excited that she ran back in the house and sat down and started a letter.
P.O. Box 346
Kissimmee, Florida
Dear Little Miss Ruth Threadgoode,
I’ve just heard that you entered the world today at seven pounds and nine ounces. Well done! And a great big welcome to the world to you! Oh, what fun you are going to have growing up with that silly daddy of yours, and with so much love from your mother, Peggy. I am so pleased they named you after your grandmother Ruth. Just so you know, Ruth Jamison was the most wonderful person in the world and I know she would be so proud, too. Your daddy says you look just like her, with your big brown eyes, and that you are as pretty as a picture.
I don’t know wh
at to buy a little baby, so until I can figure it out, I am sending all my best to you, and your momma and daddy. Uncle Julian does the same.
Love,
Your Aunt Idgie
P.S. When you get old enough to travel, come and see an old lady sometime, will you?
Idgie put the letter in the mailbox, and was still smiling as she walked back to the house. Wow. There was now a new little Ruth in the world. The thought made her so happy she didn’t know what to do. She grabbed a candy bar from the kitchen and went out and sat on the porch, enjoying her candy and thinking about the future. The baby was not even a day old yet and Idgie was already planning all the fun things they could do together, when an image from the past suddenly crossed her mind. It was of a day in spring and Ruth Jamison was sitting across a meadow smiling at her, looking so young and beautiful. Then it occurred to Idgie that if that same young girl was alive today, she would now be a grandmother. How could that be? Idgie tried her best to envision Ruth as an older woman with wrinkles and gray hair, but as hard as she tried she just couldn’t do it. In her mind Ruth would always remain young and beautiful. She would always remember her just that way.
Idgie had often thought that if she had somehow had the power to stop time, she would have stopped it when they both were young. But then, if she had, there would have been no Buddy in the world, or his new little baby. As heartbreaking as it could be at times, maybe life knew best. Idgie didn’t know the answer. She had finally stopped trying to figure it out and had accepted the fact that life was a mystery, yet to be solved by people much smarter than she was. All she knew was that a little bit of Ruth was still alive, and she just couldn’t wait to meet her.
BAUMHOLDER, GERMANY