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My papa continued, “Your momma is a good and smart woman, Suzy. She knew this was coming. She made all the arrangements so nobody needed to worry. She told us to tell you about the arrangements when she neared the end. I think that time is now.”
He put a box on the bed beside the two of them. Suzy and I had seen that box before. The words HAV-A-TAMPA were on the outside and inside the lid there was a picture of a pretty lady in a blue dress. We often went to the box to admire that lady with the dark brown hair. One time her momma caught us looking in it. Aunt Dianne scolded us. She said, “You girls stay out of that. It has important papers inside.”
Papa opened the box and said, “Suzy, in this box are papers with signatures for all the arrangements your momma has made. We can go through them together later, but we want to tell you about one of the papers now.”
He handed her an envelope. Suzy opened it to find an official lawyer-type paper. She just stared at it, confused. Then asked, “What does it mean, Uncle George?”
Papa placed his large hand on Suzy’s shoulder and said, “This letter says when your momma has gone to be with God, you will come live with us. We could use your goodness in our house, Suzy, and Marie could use her best friend around all the time. What do you think?”
Suzy turned to her mother who was asleep. She flung herself down by her momma and put her arms around her and cried out, “Oh, Momma, thank you. I am scared to be without you. But I know God needs you. Maybe now I can bear it. You thought of everything. I love you so much!”
My momma quietly ushered Papa and me from the room. Her arm was hugging him close as they walked. She whispered to him, “You are the best husband anyone could have.” Suzy stayed there crying for a long time. When the crying got quiet, I peeked in and saw she had fallen asleep on her momma’s chest. There were no more noises in the room except Suzy’s even sleeping breath. I stood close to the doorway for a few moments listening and watching this amazing moment.
My heart hurt for Suzy but at the same time there was a spark of gladness. Suzy was coming to live with us! That was the best thing ever. I always wanted a sister or brother. Suzy knew me better than anyone and still liked me. I don’t think sisters always do that. This was a very sad happy day.
JULY 1941
Ethel
Marie’s Father
Marie was a teenager when I told her about her “real” father. It was the summer I broke my foot. Since I could not walk, I needed her help with the duties of the house and farm. Marie was now my temporary caregiver. A reversal of roles for parent and child. We spent lots of time talking about a life full of happiness and hardship. The days became weeks. It seemed we might run out of things to talk about. I decided it was a good time to tell my daughter about her father. This is a story about what love could and could not be.
FRANK POLLARD WAS MY FIRST beau. He meant the world to me. We grew up together and became best friends. I remember Frank used to tell people that the Pollard and Nash kids were like family. We fuss over each other and make sure nobody messes with us. Frank and I hung out as much as we could the summer of 1927. He was interesting to talk to, treated me like someone who mattered, and he was funny. I like a person that sees things in a funny way instead of being angry about everything. But with all that, our families were different.
The first time he came to church with me was going to be a big day. We planned it all out. We decided it was time to let people know we were serious about being together.
Most of the people walked to church or rode in a buggy back then. Not many in Wilson County had a car, but Frank’s family had one. Since Frank just turned 16, he could drive. Me and Frank had planned it all out. We were going to my family church first, the Methodist Church. Frank’s family went to the Baptist Church on Sunday and then Wednesday night. I had suggested we go to Frank’s church next month. “Let’s see how things go with my family relations first,” I told him.
Frank asked his parents if he could drive the car to the Methodist Church. The way Frank told me was that his father cared about the car and his mother cared about appearances. His father said to Frank, “You better take care of my car. Not one scratch on it! And if it comes back dirty, you will have to wash it.”
His mother had other worries. “We go to church as a family. You can’t miss church on Sunday,” she said. According to Frank she was raising her voice.
Frank said he was less then truthful about why he wanted to go to the Methodist Church. He figured his real reason would not set right with his mother. Frank told them that he knew a few families that might be able to help them with the farming and that meeting them at church would give him a chance to talk to them. He said his mother protested and said, “Can’t you go after church? Most people stay around to talk after the services.”
Frank said he told her that would not work because the farmers usually get right back to their houses. Then to appease her, he said, “We will all be at the Baptist Church on Wednesday night. Nobody will miss me for one service.” Frank said his father defended his idea and said, “Let him go, Mother. It could be good for the business.”
Evidently Mrs. Pollard was not happy about that. Frank said his momma’s face turned red, and she blurted out, “Business! That is all you men think about.” Frank said his father gave her a stern look and she conceded. Frank laughed and said his mother’s next words were, “Okay, go along. But you dress nice! You are representing the Pollard family over there. I want to make sure they know we care about how we show up.”
Frank pulled the car in my front yard the next Sunday. I was standing at the window waiting for him, ready to go. We couldn’t be late. I began to calm down when he gave me a big smile. That boy had a pretty smile. Perfect teeth and deep blue eyes that smiled when his mouth did.
When Frank walked up to the front door, my heart beat faster. My palms got sweaty. That happened most times I was around him. I stopped at the hall mirror as I went to the door. I smoothed down my hair, pulled at my dress, and grabbed our lunch basket. I wanted to look good for him and all those people that would be looking at us at church.
As he reached the door and started to knock, I flung it open. He jumped and said, “Dang, E, you scared me!” His eyes never left me and then he said, “Gee whiz, you look nice.”
I had already checked him out as he was walking to the door. “You clean up nice too, Frank,” I said. I don’t think I had ever seen him dressed up before that day. He had on a brown suit. It had darker brown lapels. He wore a white shirt and shoes shined so much the dust just passed over them. I can see him plain as if it was yesterday . . .
Frank said, “This is my funeral suit. Father bought it for me last winter for grandma’s funeral. It’s already getting too tight, but I thought it would make an impression at church. Maybe they would think you found a real man.”
As we walked to the car I said, “When we are at church, call me Ethel. E is the name just between me and you.”
“Sure, Eth – el,” he said in a way that el dragged out, making me laugh.
He walked over to my side of the car, and I gave him a what-are-you-doing look. “A man is supposed to open the car door for his lady,” he said as he bowed.
He took the lunch basket from my hand. I looked over at him, gave him a little scowl, and said, “Okay then, but you know I can open my own door!”
“Yes, ma’am, I know you can. You can open any door you want! But today, let me do it for you.” He put the basket in the back seat.
