The Widow’s Tale’s Prologue
A little town above us had a store in someone’s house,
Ankle socks laid out with lace sewn all about.
End of school year field trips
Chain of Rocks Amusement Park
Summer outdoor Muny Opera
Picnic lunch in Forest Park
The Reptile House, the Primates,
The St. Louis Zoo.
Every summer we walked through yards
To swim in the neighborhood pool.
My blue and purple flowered dress
and polished patent leather,
Whirling to Maurice Chavalier
On our hi-fi record player,
Thanking heaven for little girls.
Mama’s old friend’s husband, Charlie,
Always set his reel to reel
To the 1812 Overture’s cannons
Timed to blare on Daddy’s arrival.
Our neighbors practiced
Raising flags at dawn.
They drank bloody marys on the lawn
and cannon shot commemorations
On days important to our nation.
While the sun rose and their son played reveille.
Does everyone have friends who stage such celebrations?
By the time I came to be, Mama, cool and flip, felt deprived of adulation;
She hated things about her life but never clearly named them.
Daddy was a family man, he called Mama “Julia, Dear”
While Mama clung to memories of revelry and cheer.
After all, she’d marched to war a long time ago in the army
Did her nightmares begin on foreign shores caring for the wounds of men?
Or did something in Kissimmee sow her terror?
The tales she told were frightening or funny,
Those close to her have heard
More times than countable
Their details’ re-refineries.
Today the tales are short, repeat, but still report capacity
For revising and envisioning
She adds, these days, how pleasant it’s been visiting.
I’ll tell all I remember, in hope of preserving
At least a little of the sparkle
Of my Mama’s memories’ discerning.
The Widow’s Tale
A long time ago in
A hospital near Paris
Everyone came to hate
The man sent to measure
The leftovers on plates.
Mama’s department won awards for the least food wasted
No one knew how or why they’d done best
‘Till a soldier explained he had beaten the rest
By flushing the food down the toilettes.
One busy day on the floor
Two officers called Nurse Rogers
Discussing in detail the exact spot
Where a mop should hang in a closet ;
She turned her back on the project
Because her attitude expressed an air of disgust
She was ordered to write an apology.
Julia made it a little too clear
Their mop concerns
Were frivolity.
When the Queen of England asked the Yanks to a dance
Julia stood amongst friends unaware
She’d been spied
Someone snuck from behind
And lifted her into the air
When Julia turned around who did she see?
A Grissom boy from Kissimmee.
On the ship home few females sailed; nurses and USO women.
Mama ranked highest and had to take charge of those hens.
Officers argued until settled on sharing the pretty soldiers to dine;
Just an instance among Mama’s memories; she was in demand all the time.
Once an airforce friend needed flight time on his docket.
He invited Mama and her friend to help him clock it
They put on dress uniforms
Carried civies along
And flew to Havana for gambling.
They kept fingers crossed
That their jolly jaunt
Would never come unraveling
By then she’d returned from her European excursion
Bored in Florida; grass glowed greener in New Orleans.
Julia worked for the VA Hospital, still taking care of soldiers.
On a double date one night her friend’s companion was her delight
She told her friend to save this guy
And it was thus, that very day,
Julia got dibs on Dan Maloney.
Chicago added grit but
Daddy’s childhood was mostly spent
on bases from Nebraska to Manilla.
Dan and his twin rode donkeys,
Climbed and played when Buddhist statues marked the way to Peking.
Dan was smitten from the start so he called when Nurse Rogers was on duty.
She warned him not to do it, but he didn’t listen to it and he called her every day
With emphasis he’d say, “Let’s get married, Julie Belle, let’s get married”
Julia told her friends “That crazy Dan Maloney wants me to marry him.”
Mama never forgot how popular she was;
Marrying Dan required her to throw an old beau over.
She was never satisfied to leave behind her memories.
(Mama sang praises of old loves when she was mad at Daddy)
We were born in California
Mama claims
(I don’t remember)
She took us to the beach every weekend
Drove the winding mountain roads to Santa Cruz.
(and yet when questioned yesterday
admits it might not be true)
From the place destined to become Silicon Valley
Daddy transferred to suburban St. Louis
Kitchen cabinets pink
the formica white
with little glints of gold.
Toasted cheese, chicken soup, iced tea
Fresh mint grown near the patio door
Clicking her tongue to the beat of a tune
Or the slamming cabinet doors
(probably tired of her chores)
To me she was a movie star
beautiful and glamorous.
When Mommy Dearest
came out I didn’t read it
but I didn’t doubt it.
Julia’s words were brutal when they fought;
She often left the house incensed and
Came back later bearing gifts.
She neglected words in her repentance.
At some point I swore such gifts off
By then I was nearly grown.
A backlog of acceptance
Weighed heavy on my soul
I told myself I would not take them
Her guilt must stay intact
Is it wrong allowing affection to be bought back?
If the answer is yes I will never become Republican
If no- at how low a price will I give in?
A two lane highway’s gas station in the south
Mama and Daddy argued, Daddy got out and walked
Melissa and I in the back seat cried, what will become of Daddy?
When I think of him he never seems deserving of his sentence.
He worked and worked till life afflicted him with sickness.
Daddy thought at work-life’s end he might resort to teaching history;
Instead he went to surgery and Mama practiced nursing.
In the evening of her life Daddy’s health
took her prisoner.
Time stalks, the sun beats down
Julie and Aunt Lola bask on the beach in Ormond.
When the heat bakes them through they wade into the surf
The water would not dare to touch a strand of hair.
The ladies arrange their chairs,
Under umbrellas
Find the lotion
Drink sweet tea
Stare at the ocean
Her expectations were inspired while the American dream was inflating.
How ARE you going to keep them down on the farm after they’ve been parading?
Julia acquired grandchildren who took turns staying over.
That way each would get their Nanny for the night.
The classic lunch at Nanny’s house
Two slices of salami, one of provolone
Handful of potato chips, a glass of coke
A cookie. Maybe two.
A memorable thing
To her grandchildren and to Wanda’s children too.
Wanda came around the week that Daddy died.
Julia’s weakness took its time advancing.
For years they discussed their plan of action.
When the time came, Wanda stepped up for duty.
Mama suffered various pains, then a woozy sense of balance.
Everyone (who didn’t see her much) felt she looked great.
(or so they announced it)
After time and consternation Wanda had to come more often.
Cherie, then Loretta. Then Patt or I, each evening
Then Wanda or Loretta every day.
Since she fell someone has to stay
At night as well.
We’ve watched her turn fragile as a feather.
Mama says to Wanda, “I met you years ago. You came here and we’ve been friends ever since. I liked you the minute I saw you.”
Empty ocean, towering condos, wavering heat, parking lots, melted tar, chrome glints, gas fumes, everything meant for a certain speed.
Dull, aggressive, littered and occasionally green.
The smell of onions frying on the breeze.
This is all life seems to hold at times when sadness settles in
When memories pale of Mama’s tales and her many varied revisions.
