by Deanna Edens
“I’ve got a great idea, Will.” I turned and faced him, “How about we go into the kitchen, fix us some hot toddies and celebrate my graduation.”
His eyes bubbled with gratitude.
“I know where Erma stashed her brandy,” I confided.
A deep chuckle escaped from Will’s throat and his eyes sparkled with mischief, “You know where Erma’s brandy used to be stashed.”
“What?” My jaw dropped open.
He plopped his walking stick firmly on the wood floor of the porch before hoisting himself from the couch, “I’m pulling your leg, Annie.” He moseyed toward the screen door, “I’ll find the teapot.”
Charleston, West Virginia
March 10, 1920
“The Vote”
{{14}}
“Are you going with me to the State Capitol this afternoon to see how the vote turns out? I have a good feeling about this. I think it’s going to pass this time.”
“I don’t know if I can, Ida. I’ve been as busy as a stump-tailed cow in fly time, plus I have a castration planned this afternoon.”
Ida scrunched her nose, “I’m sure the bull wouldn’t mind if it was postponed a day.” She rolled her eyes dramatically before plopping a hatbox on the kitchen table. “I bought you a new hat for the occasion.”
“If I go with you, I’m wearing my old, egg-splattered hat just in case stupid folks decide to waste perfectly good dairy products by tossing them at people when they are only trying to make the world a better place.”
“That’s the spirit. I won’t duck this time,” Ida lifted the hat from the box, “if that makes you feel any better.”
“Ida, you are almost a foot shorter than I am. I don’t really think it matters if you stoop down or not.”
“True.” Ida prodded, “You are going with me, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” Erma told her friend, “as long as you don’t mind stopping by Miller’s farm so I can let him know I’ll come by in the morning for the castration.”
“Not a problem,” Ida rubbed her fingers delicately over the bright blue plumes, “are you sure you don’t want to wear this hat? Blue is a great color for you.”
“I don’t really feel it would complement my purple dress,” Erma admitted as she examined her new hat.
“Are you kidding? Just look at the tiny bow attached to your waist – it is almost the same shade. I think it’s a perfect match.”
Erma decided to accept Ida’s advice, seeing how Ida always looked as though she had stepped straight out from a page of Vanity Fair magazine. Today she was wearing a calf length, loose fitting brocade dress with a low waist, and a wide-brimmed cloche hat worn sloping to one side to expose her stylish blonde curls. “That girl would look like a princess even if she was wearing a potato sack,” Erma thought as she situated her hat’s plume strategically over one ear.
When they pulled Tin Lizzie alongside the front entrance of the Ruffner Hotel, on the corner of Kanawha and Hale streets, they could see John Ruffner waving at them. He was sporting a yellow seersucker suit with a belted jacket and had a derby hat propped on his head. Ida and John had been dating ever since their fateful meeting at the Glen Ferris Inn, and the notion had crossed Erma’s mind that she may need to stand up in Ida’s wedding in the near future. She could almost hear the church bells a-ringin’.
John motioned for them to move the car forward a few feet and leaned in the driver’s side window. “I think you should probably park your car here and we will walk the rest of the way. The streets have been packed with vehicles today,” he paused to look down Kanawha Street, “I guess there are a lot of folks heading to the Capitol.”
“Of course, John.” Ida purred, as her lashes fluttered.
Erma groaned in mock disgust.
As soon as Ida and Erma stepped onto the red brick-paved street, John presented his arms to each of the ladies, and together they strolled down the beautiful streets of Charleston. “I don’t know if I have ever had the pleasure of escorting two such lovely ladies in my entire lifetime,” he told them most sincerely as his chest puffed up.
Ida grasped his arm with both of her hands and smiled charmingly. As Erma glanced sideways at them, she realized this was a match made in heaven, “He’s not only good-looking but amiable too… just like Ida.”
Erma was pleased for her friend when she overheard John whisper into Ida’s ear, “Are your legs tired? ‘Cause you’ve been runnin’ through my dreams.”
Ida twittered with delight.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, crimson and clover.” Erma’s eyes smiled as they promenaded alongside the library and turned the corner.
The large Italianate Capitol, with its mansard roof, fabled wall dormers, and towers loomed large above the meticulously manicured lawn where hundreds of folks were seated on blankets waiting to hear the results of the vote. John spread a blanket down on the grass and plopped down on it. They opened their bottles of Cokes and dug into a bag of roasted peanuts. For over an hour they shared stories, told jokes and waited patiently for the very important decision to be announced from within the chambers.
The word finally came. A man wearing a navy blue suit stood on the top step of the soaring staircase and proudly informed the bystanders. “On March 10, 1920, the West Virginia Legislature passed a joint resolution ratifying the Nineteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution giving women the right to vote.”
Folks started hoopin’ and hollerin’ all over the place. Men were throwing their hats high into the air, and the women stood clapping enthusiastically when they heard the life-changing news. A man and a woman started twirling around beside them. It was just like being at a party – all the way up until the dancing couple tripped on Erma’s foot, triggering them to land on top of her. Her brand new hat fell off, went sailing across the lawn, and continued to roll onto the road. She gasped in horror as it landed in a dark puddle of sludge and the man driving the milk truck paid it no mind as his right front wheel crushed it. It was flatter than a pancake. Erma stood motionless as she stared dumbfounded at the once brightly plumed hat that now put her in mind of a week-old cow patty.
“Ain’t that just my luck?”
Sissonville, West Virginia
June 23, 1981
{{15}}
It was a clammy evening, and the chill in the soggy ground seemed to seep straight into my bones. Will leaned his cane against the railing of the porch, before he sluggishly lowered himself onto the couch beside me. “Do ya have any plans for the weekend?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “Actually, I have a date.”
“Well, I’ll be. Do I know the fellow?”
“I doubt it, Will.”
“What’s his name?”
“Bob.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned my date,” I painstakingly reflected. “I met him when I stopped at the drug store to buy aspirin.”
“A drug store?” he repeated. “How old is he?”
“I’m not sure, maybe thirty?” I answered, hoping this would satisfy his meddlesome demeanor.
“Does he drink?” Will stared at me inquisitively.
“I didn’t ask.”
“Is anyone gonna go with ya on the date?”
“Seriously?” I gulped. “No, not on our first date. I really don’t want him to know my only companion slobbers profusely.”
Will startled, “Profusely?” He hastily snatched his white handkerchief from his back pocket. “I don’t think I slobber profusely,” he swiped his mouth, “do I?”
“I was referring to Hank.”
“Good.” Will tucked his hanky back into his pocket, as he released a sigh of relief, “I knew that.”
I folded my hands on my lap, impatiently waiting for the grilling to continue.
“Does the fellow you’re goin’ on a date with chew?”
“I don’t know, Will.”
“Fine.” He rubbed his chin. “Annie, let me
tell ya a joke,” he released a roaring laugh before he had even begun. “There was a young fellow, about seventeen, who sat down on the sofa with his girlfriend. They smooched for about forty-five minutes, had a wonderful time, and then he backed off and said ‘When I sat down here, Dear, was you a-chewin’ tobacco, or was I?’”
“Oh, Will,” my nose scrunched up, “that is disgusting!”
He pointed his finger directly at me, “Which is why ya need to know everything about a fellow before you go out on a date with him.”
“Isn’t going on a date with a man the way you get to know him?”
Will seemed to ponder my statement before expounding, “It just don’t seem like ya know much about him, Annie. Do ya even know anything about his family or where they come from?”
“I do not know,” my stare sharpened.
He tilted his head disapprovingly, “There’s plenty of strange folks out there, ya best be careful and make sure ya go to a public place.”
“We’ll go to a public place,” I promised.
Still, he continued on with the interrogation, “What does he do for a livin’?”
“Ay, I do know the answer to this question. He is a veterinarian.”
Will’s eyes popped wide open, “Interesting.”
“Let’s not talk about Bob anymore – there is something I want to tell you and it is important.”
“I’m listening,” Will said, as he pulled his pouch of chew from the pocket of his overalls and tapped his hearing aid.
I took a deep breath, “I’m going to go to the bank to see if I can borrow the money to buy this farm.”
He smacked his leg, “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a coon’s age.” His smile widened brightly, “However, I doubt you’ll need to go to the bank.”
“Will, I can assure you I will need to go to the bank. I have exactly six hundred and twenty dollars. Not nearly enough to purchase this place and probably not even enough to make a portion of the down payment.”
“The funny thing is this, Annie. Erma specified in her paperwork concerning the farm that if you decided, on your own, to buy this place then the house and land should be sold to you for five hundred dollars.”
“Five hundred dollars! This place is worth a hundred times that price. Why would she do this for me?”
“She thought a lot of ya, and recognized that you would be the perfect person to move into this place.” He paused momentarily, “I have a copy of her last will and testament, and I’ll bring it up to ya later so you can read her wishes and requirements.”
“Requirements?” My brow narrowed, “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Oh, it ain’t nothing. She simply indicated that I could never mention how much you would have to pay for the farm – not until you showed an interest in buying this place.”
“Wow,” I was stunned, “how very generous.”
“I figured it was kinda a family price.”
I was giddy. I never expected Erma would show such extraordinary kindness or offer me such a lavish bestowment.
Will explained that he would contact the attorney and we would work out all the particulars later on in the week, before he jumped up unexpectedly and informed me that he needed to scurry off to an appointment and wanted to get on the road before darkness settled in.
Still befuddled over the joyous news Will had conveyed, I went into the farmhouse, fed Hank and Tessy their dinner, and plucked up Erma’s journal. I knew I had just about finished reading her notes on the suffrage movement and unionization in West Virginia, and was a little sad that the connection I had felt with her while reading her ‘random thoughts’ would soon be over. I held the faded green journal tight to my chest before opening it up to the last few pages.
Sissonville, West Virginia
May 22, 1920
“Right Neighborly”
{{16}}
Erma nearly burst out in tears when she saw Mr. Cramer standing on her porch. “There has been another mining accident today,” he solemnly reported, “Ida telephoned and told me the Mallory Coal Company, down there around Logan, had a roof collapse early this morning and there’s at least ten men trapped inside.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cramer. Sorry you have to keep comin’ up here.” Erma offered a half smile.
“No problem, Erma. I don’t mind at all.” He gave her a sympathetic glance, “Are ya going to head down there?”
“Yeah,” her lips formed a tight line, “I’ll get the truck packed up and go stand vigil.”
He nodded knowingly.
Erma offered him some coins for his trouble, but he brushed her hand away. “Erma,” he looked at her pointedly, “I don’t mind comin’ up here. I just wish I wasn’t always bearing bad news.”
“You are a kind man,” she replied sincerely.
Mr. Cramer offered a tip of his hat before heading back to his truck.
She quickly tidied up the kitchen and walked out to the barn to begin collecting goods to take with her to the disaster.
By this time, everyone in Sissonville knew that Erma would be heading to the mine to help those in need, and all morning long she heard cars and trucks rumbling up and down Black Hollow Road.
Once, she had peeped out the window to see Mr. Roberts tossing some blankets into the bed of her used Hurlburt two-ton truck. A few minutes later, she watched the preacher sliding a cardboard box of Bibles in the back, and Mrs. Alexander gently packing jugs of water in her front seat. She was very surprised when she witnessed ‘Slim Jim’ Miller, who was as tight as a tick, filling her gas tank up with some fuel he had most likely siphoned from the Western Fuel Company’s drip line located across the swinging bridge a couple miles down the road.
By the time she had gathered up the usual blankets, food to make sandwiches, and medical supplies, her truck was packed full of donations. Whatever folks had extra of, or could contribute to the cause, was crowded neatly into the bed of her two-ton truck. She beamed with gratitude as she tossed a box of oranges on top of a pile of blankets, settled on her favorite old brown leather hat, and fired up the engine to make the trip to Mallory.
The second Erma turned out of the rutty Black Hollow Road, she punched down on the gas, and glanced in the rearview mirror only to spot a woman riding a horse, her arms flapping riotously in the air. She squinted at the mirror again and noticed that the horse was galloping now. “Is that Mrs. Gibson? Yeah, that’s what I thought and it’s mighty odd.” Recognizing that the woman was her neighbor from Coon Creek, she slowed the speed of the truck. In a flash of a second, Mrs. Gibson and her horse were positioned right smack dab beside the truck. Erma startled when she saw them keeping pace with her two-ton and steered to the side of the road.
Mrs. Gibson pulled toward the right on the bit collar, in an attempt to redirect the horse before slowing down its gait. She guided her animal close to Erma’s vehicle as she panted in relief, “I sure am glad I caught ya before ya took off. I could see ya pullin’ out of the holler and was scared ya wouldn’t see me. I brought some pickled cabbage for ya to take to the folks in Mallory.”
“Well, thank ya Mrs. Gibson. That is right neighborly.”
Mrs. Gibson dismounted before rummaging through her saddlebag. She began to pull jars of cabbage from the leather pouch and handed them, one by one, over to Erma through the driver’s side window of the truck. “Pickled cabbage is my specialty,” Mrs. Gibson explained. “I add green peppers and onion bits to it just to spice it up a bit. Generally, I save these for Sunday dinner, but figured the folks down at the mine could use ‘em more than we can right now.”
Erma considered the fact that the Gibson family was probably the poorest family living in Sissonville, as far as she knew, and she recognized the sacrifice of half a dozen quarts of pickled cabbage might seem like a meager donation to some folks, but it was a genuine heartfelt gift of love. Erma’s face crinkled with pleasure as she kindly replied, “This is a fine treat, Mrs. Gibson. I’m sure the folks will appreciate this tremendously.
Thank ya for your kindness.”
Mrs. Gibson dipped her eyes shyly, “Thank ya for takin’ the supplies down to ‘em. Tell ‘em the folks in Sissonville are keepin’ ‘em in our thoughts and prayers.”
“I most certainly will do so,” Erma promised.
Mrs. Gibson remounted her horse to head back home, and Erma was still smiling her away when the notion crossed her mind – it’s not what ya got, it’s what ya give. She was so blessed to have these humble folks as neighbors. The compassion and humanity of their selfless offerings made her heart sing with joy.
Sissonville, West Virginia
June 27, 1981
{{17}}
Hank yapped one time before he leapt on the bed and bumped me with his head.
“What do you want?” I opened one eye and glanced at my alarm clock, “It’s eight o’clock in the morning! Hank, stop it!” Just as the words escaped my mouth I heard Will pounding on the door. I stumbled into the living room and unlatched the chain.
“How was your date?” Will asked, as he held out a paper bag filled with pears.
“Will,” I yawned, “it is eight o’clock in the morning.”
He grinned at me knowingly, “Decided to sleep in, eh? Ya must have had a good time last night with that fellow.”
“Eight o’clock in the morning is not what I would consider sleeping in,” I informed him as I slung the door open for him to enter.
“Ya live on a farm, Annie. You’ve done wasted half of the day.”
“Geeze,” I turned to walk back to the kitchen, “coffee?”
“Sure,” Will replied, “I’ll brew it.”
As Will started preparing a healthy dose of needed caffeine, I filled Hank and Tessy’s bowls up with their favorites, before shuffling into the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I returned, Will had cups of coffee, creamer, and pears sitting on the tabletop.
“Sit down, Annie.” He slid a mug toward me. “There’s something I wanna run past ya after ya tell me all about your date last night with Bob.”