The Whole Town's Talking

by Fannie Flagg

  —

  ON JUNE 14, 1916, the Democratic National Convention was to take place at the St. Louis Coliseum, the largest convention hall in the county. St. Louis was in a festive mood, with each building colorfully decorated with bunting of red, white, and blue. The town was packed with delegates from all over the country.

  On the first morning of the convention, as all the male delegates poured out of their hotels and began marching down the middle of Locust Street, toward the convention hall, they were in for a big surprise. Both sides of the street were lined with hundreds of women, young and old, each holding a yellow parasol and wearing a long white dress with a bright yellow sash that read VOTES FOR WOMEN. As far as the eye could see, women from all over the country stood together in silent protest in what they called a walkless, talkless demonstration of solidarity.

  The sight was very effective. By the time the men reached the St. Louis Coliseum, they had passed by many ladies who, by the look of them, could have been their own wives or mothers. Some delegates had been swayed to reconsider their position on the matter of votes for women. And it had been done without making a sound.

  That day, twelve Elmwood Springs women stood proudly on the Golden Lane alongside women from all over the world, holding their homemade yellow parasols and wearing yellow sashes over their long white dresses.

  Birdie Swensen, Nancy Knott, and Nancy’s little girl, Elner, were there. And although her eyesight had worsened, and she had to be led, Katrina Nordstrom and her daughter, Ingrid, were there, too. She knew Lordor would have been proud.

  Yes, their cause was noble, but the Elmwood Springs ladies were not averse to having a little fun while they were in St. Louis. After the demonstration, they all went to the movies and saw Irene and Vernon Castle in The Whirl of Life and went wild over Irene Castle’s short hairdo. The next morning, six of them went downstairs to the hotel barbershop and had their hair cut in an Irene Castle bob. Nancy Knott went first, then Ingrid, followed by Lily Tildholme’s seventy-two-year-old mother, who said she was just dying to learn to do the turkey trot.

  When Nancy Knott came home from St. Louis with her new short bob, her husband, Henry, about fainted. “Momma, where’s your bun?”

  “Up in St. Louis, with everybody else’s. Why?”

  By the look in her eye, he knew not to push the issue. “Just wondered,” he said.

  As Henry opined to the men at the barbershop the next day, “We’re doomed, boys. The women have all gone as wild as heifers in a snowstorm. No telling what they’ll be up to next. Hell, I’m living with four of them. I’m liable to be killed in my bed, just for the gold in my teeth.”

  Of course, Henry didn’t have any gold in his teeth. He just liked to embellish a bit.

  Katrina Nordstrom, who sadly had completely lost her sight in the last few months of her life, succumbed to a sudden consumption, and in December 1916, was laid to rest beside her husband.

  KATRINA OLSEN NORDSTROM

  1865–1916

  She Arrived a Stranger

  and Died Among Friends

  When Katrina opened her eyes, she heard her husband’s voice saying, “Katrina? Can you hear me?”

  “Lordor? Am I dreaming?”

  “No, darling. It’s me.”

  —

  AFTER THEIR LONG-AWAITED AND happy reunion, Katrina sighed and said, “Oh, Lordor, I can hardly believe it. It’s so wonderful up here….I can see again…and everything is so beautiful, the sky, the clouds, the stars. Even more beautiful than I remembered.”

  He said, “So I made the right decision? This is a nice spot?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said.

  “Good, but I’m so glad you’re here with me now.”

  “Me too.”

  “I miss the children, but you know what I missed the most, Katrina?” asked Lordor.

  “No, what?”

  “Listening to you talk. I could listen to you talk forever.”

  It was a lovely moment. Just the two of them, so happy and content to be together again. Then, suddenly, someone said, “Hello there, folks!”

  A startled Lordor asked, “Who the hell is that?”

  A gravelly man’s voice answered, “A deceased man by the name of Evander J. Chapman.”

  “Where are you?” asked Lordor.

  “Acrost the way…up to your left.”

  “My God, how long have you been there?”

  “June of 1854. How long’s that?”

  “A long time. Why didn’t you say nothing before?”

  “Well, mister, you hain’t said nothing, so I hain’t said nothing. Truth to tell, twern’t aware I could…tilt I heared you greet your missus here. How do, ma’am,” he said politely.

  “Hello, Mr. Chapman,” said Katrina. “My name is Katrina Nordstrom, and this is my husband, Lordor.”

  “How do, Mr. Nordstrom. Pleased, I’m sure.”

  “Hello.”

  “Yes, sir. I was passing through here in ’54, trapping beaver and muskrat, when an Injun got me! Been here ever since and sure am glad to have the company. What brings you folks out here? I wuz shot with an arrow myself, clean through my liver.”

  “Oh, no, Mr. Chapman,” said Katrina. “That must have been awful.”

  “Yessum, twas. That Injun snucked up on me, and after he donest shot me and left me afoot, this ole Canook out of Quebec I was trapping with come up apon me and sees me a-laying here, shot and scalped, and says he’d come back through in a day or two, after I wuz fully dead, and bury me. So’s I let off a right mean volley of cussing at him. I figgered he wuz a-turn-tailing and runnin’ off, leaving me to the buzzards. Afore that, I hain’t never put much stock in him. He was a bad one to swill corn liquor. But in the end, that old Canook done me fair and Christian. True to his word, he come back and buried me on this hill good and proper-like, even said words over me. The words wuz French Canook, so I don’t knowed what he said, but…I sure wisht I hain’t a-cussed him like that.”

  After Lordor and Katrina had recovered from the shock of discovering they weren’t alone, they learned that Mr. Chapman was originally from Kentucky and a distant cousin of John Chapman, better known as Johnny Appleseed. He also told them more about his trapping days and said that in 1854, the year he had passed through this part of Missouri, the woods had been so thick, you had to cut a path with a knife.

  Katrina asked, “Did you see any bears?”

  “Why, missus, I musta seed two a day!”

  “Mountain lions?”

  “Had one jump at me onest, but I rolled in a ball and confused him. He gimme a bad bite and a scratch before he left, though.”

  “Were there lots of Indians living around here?”

  “Couldn’t say for sure, missus. I just seed the one who absconded with my pelts, my horse, and half my scalp.”

  Some time later, Lordor said, “Mr. Chapman, I think I owe an apology to you. I didn’t know someone was already buried here. I might have given your plot away. I’m not sure, but you could be in the Lindquist family plot.”

  “Oh, don’t give it no nevermine, Mr. Nordstrom. I’m glad more folks is a-comin’. Jus’ hope they be some females amunst ’em. I seed one smart-lookin’ gal up on this hill afore. Comes up pretty regular like, a-prunin’ them willer trees.”

  Katrina said, “Oh, that was Birdie Swensen you saw.”

  “Well, I always did like the ladies. I sorely do miss ’em.”

  Lordor asked, “How old a man were you when you got shot?”

  “Well, lemme see…I weren’t no young man, so I reckon I go back over a hundred years or more by now.”

  Later, when Lordor and Katrina told him about present-day Missouri, Mr. Chapman could hardly believe it. “Horseless carriages that you can drive for miles and light you turn on pulling a switch? You’re a-funnin’ with me, ain’t you, Mr. Nordstrom?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And them carriages goes without pull of horse, mule, or oxen?”

  “Yes, sir.”<
br />
  “Well, what do they feed the critters?”

  “Gasoline.”

  Mr. Chapman thought for a while, then said, “Don’t know it.”

  Lordor tried his best to explain how electricity worked, but it was no use.

  “I heared what you tell me….I jus’ cain’t get a good handle on it. It’s too ahead of me.”

  Lordor decided he wouldn’t even attempt to tell Mr. Chapman about airplanes. It would probably scare him to death.

  Katrina felt sorry for the man and jumped in. “Oh, Mr. Chapman, don’t feel bad. I feel the same way about electricity. I can’t understand how it works, either.”

  “Who’s the president now?” asked Mr. Chapman, changing the subject.

  Lordor said, “I don’t know. I forgot to ask. Who is it?”

  Katrina answered, “Woodrow Wilson.”

  “Is he a good one?” asked Mr. Chapman.

  “I guess just like all of them, time will tell, sir. Time will tell.”

  Mr. Chapman said, “Ol’ Franklin Pierce was the last president I voted for….How did he fare?”

  “I couldn’t say. He was before my time.”

  “Ah.”

  The three of them didn’t know it, but there were actually four people out at Still Meadows. Across and up was an elderly Osage Indian, who had washed up on the other side of the hill during the flood of 1715. When the old Osage heard the three of them talking, he didn’t recognize it as language. He thought it must be some kind of birds having a fight, and rolled over and went back to sleep.

  —

  OVER THE NEXT FEW MONTHS, the three of them would visit and chat often, and Katrina and Lordor so enjoyed hearing about Mr. Chapman’s trapping and scouting days. They didn’t know if he was just a master spinner of tall tales or if he really had seen and done all the things he said, but either way, he was very entertaining. One day, he said, “You’ll not believe it, but I scouted with ol’ Kit Carson hisself. He twern’t no taller than my nose, but a better man wuddn’t ever borned.” Then, as was his habit, Mr. Chapman switched subjects and said, “Hey, I’ll tell you a good one. You folks is Swedish, ain’t ya?”

  “Yes, both of us.”

  “Well, like I say. I seed a awful lot in my day. But folks, I hain’t never seed nor heared anything so beautiful as when the Swedish songbird, Miss Jenny Lind herself, alive and in the flesh, come to Tennessee. I remember it like daylight. It was April of ’52, and all the mens come from miles around to see her. Why, I had to shoot a man in the big toe jest to get a ticket, but I got it. My seat wuz way back up in the balcony, but there twern’t no disappointment to it. She sunged like a bird…and them golden curls. Why, she was so purty, it hurt you to look at her. It wuz like seein’ an angel from heaven, and I hain’t got over it yet. Yes, sir, seeing her wuz the best night of my life. And I’ll tell you somethin’ else….It eased off my dying just a-recalling it.”

  Katrina often wondered if Mr. Chapman really had seen Jenny Lind and how she would have felt if she had known that a man in the audience that night, almost seventy years later, thought seeing her had been the highlight of his life.

  And then one day, without a warning or even a goodbye, he wasn’t there anymore. They called to him over and over again, “Mr. Chapman? Mr. Chapman?” But he never answered. He was gone, leaving Katrina and Lordor wondering what had happened to him.

  Being of a certain age, Lordor and Katrina weren’t alone long. In 1918, they were joined by other original settlers. Nancy Knott arrived first, and, as usual, she got right to the point.

  “Since you two died, we had a war.”

  “Oh, no, Nancy,” said Katrina. “I was afraid of that.”

  “Yah, but it was over soon. The Yanks went over there and come right back home.”

  A concerned Lordor jumped in. “Did we lose any Elmwood Springs boys?”

  “Oh, no. The Eggstrom boy went, but he come home safe and sound. Oh, and your boy, Ted? He still don’t marry, but if I know men, not for too much longer.”

  “Oh, I hope not, Nancy.”

  “Me, too. Gerta, my middle girl, has her eye on him.”

  “And Ingrid? Does she have a young man?” asked Katrina.

  “Ah…that one’s too smart for them boys that live around here, but everybody says she looks more like you every day now.”

  “Really?” asked Katrina.

  “That’s good,” said Lordor, “better than looking like me. And everybody else is good?”

  Nancy said, “Oh, sure. But my Henry? He’s not so good. He don’t walk good anymore, and he coughs and he coughs. It’s a surprise I’m here first.”

  Katrina said, “Yes, it really is. What happened to you, Nancy?”

  There was a long pause, then Nancy said, “Too much beer.”

  Katrina wondered if she had heard correctly. “Too much beer?”

  “Yah.”

  They waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. They didn’t want to pry. It would be rude, but they did wonder how too much beer could kill you.

  A little while later, Katrina said, “I hate to ask, Nancy, but how is Sweet Potato?”

  “Ack! That pig. What a waste of good sausage, but she is still herself.” Katrina was relieved to hear it.

  —

  AS EXPECTED, RIGHT AFTER New Year’s, Henry Knott came up to Still Meadows and joined his wife. One of the first things he said to Katrina and Lordor was, “Hey, did Momma tell you how she got drunk and fell out of the back of the wagon coming home from the dance?”

  “Hush your mouth, Henry,” Nancy said.

  “We found her the next day, in the ditch by the old Tildholme farm, frozen solid.”

  “Henry!” shouted Nancy. “Hush up!”

  “Oh.”

  Then, by way of explanation, Nancy said to Katrina, “I told him a hundred times that old board was loose, but he don’t listen.”

  Lordor and Katrina were very happy to have their old friends join them, but there was still the matter of Evander Chapman’s sudden and mysterious disappearance. They decided not to mention meeting Mr. Chapman to Henry and Nancy or tell them what had transpired. It might be too upsetting for them. They were also not sure if it would ever happen again. They still wondered where he had gone and whether he would ever come back.

  Young Ted Nordstrom, the new mayor of Elmwood Springs, had good common business sense like his father. With his share of the money from the sale of the dairy farm, he purchased several downtown buildings. And as there was still a large number of Swedish in the area, he opened Nordstrom’s Swedish Bakery, using a lot of his mother’s recipes, the same ones she had brought with her from the old country so many years ago. Needless to say, it was successful. Swedish or not, who doesn’t love a good bakery?

  After his mother died, Ted had gone out with a few girls. One from Joplin, Missouri, and, later, with the new dental assistant who had just moved to town. However, as Nancy Knott had guessed, he eventually wound up marrying Gerta Knott. Everyone said it was a perfect match. Ted loved to bake, and Gerta, a sweet, plump girl, like all the other Knotts, just loved to eat. They were as happy as two peas in a pod.

  But the dating and marriage situation with Ted’s sister, Ingrid, was an entirely different situation. People had hoped that she and Ander Swensen would marry someday, but they had grown up together and were too much like brother and sister.

  Although she was a pretty girl like her mother, and many boys asked her out, she simply wasn’t interested and would turn them down.

  When she was not in school, she either had her face in a book studying or else she was busy at her job working for the local veterinarian. People began to wonder if Ingrid would ever make a wife. She seemed to like animals more than boys.

  In fact, once, when a boy named Morris Shingle was not treating his horse the way she thought he should, she’d punched him in the nose.

  1919

  The next to arrive up at Still Meadows was Mr. Lindquist, who had been buried with h
is fiddle, and the first thing he said was, “Well, hell, if I had known I was just heading up the hill, I’d have told them not to get me so dressed up. So, Lordor, what’s it like being out here?”

  “It’s, well, I don’t know exactly how to describe it. Oh, it’s just…Katrina, you’re so good with the words. You tell him.”

  “Oh my, thank you, Lordor, but I’m afraid this is just one of those times when mere words are just not adequate. It’s certainly beyond beautiful or euphoric. I would say ‘sublime’ is the only word that comes close, and even that doesn’t capture it. All I can say is it’s a feeling you never dreamed existed, and it just keeps going.”

  Lordor said, “Exactly!”

  A few months later, when Birdie Swensen arrived at Still Meadows, just like everyone else, she was amazed. One would have thought, aside from the usual misconceptions about being deceased, that if anything, it would certainly be boring, but it was not. Everyone said that no matter how long they had been at Still Meadows, they had not been bored for one second. True, they couldn’t move around like before, but they could talk to anyone there at will. All they had to do was call out their name. And no matter what time of day it was, there was always someone to converse with.

  But, most importantly, without all the distractions of everyday life, there was the endless panorama of nature to enjoy. Sunrises, sunsets, rain, snow, cloudy days, and sunny days, plus many unexpected and thrilling events: a shooting star, a sudden glorious ray of sunshine after a storm, rainbows, silver lightning bolts flashing across the sky. And the moon. Just the moon alone was a show unto itself. Some nights, it was big and orange, sometimes a half moon, a big white moon, or just a little white fingernail of a moon. And each season brought its own special joys. Endless flocks of ducks and geese flying overhead in the fall; the trees blossoming in the spring. In the summer, on warm, balmy nights, the air was full of the fragrance of honeysuckle and wisteria. And in the winter, when the air was full of wood smoke, some of the older men could name the type of wood being burned, and they would call out cedar, oak, or hickory. Winter was so lovely. Sometimes Still Meadows would be covered with snow, but they always felt cozy and warm. Bored? Good heavens, no. Birdie said to Katrina, “Why, I can hardly wait to wake up and see all the wonderful things the day has in store.”