Monday, March 24, 2014
In my small southern town our post office on Main Street was the gathering place after work. You didn't need a watch to know it was 5 p.m. because cars came from all directions screeching to a halt around the building. People abandoned all motor vehicles to gather in small groups. Who was in the hospital?
Out of the hospital? Should be in the hospital? How much were eggs selling for at the Teapot grocery store? Had anyone tried the new recipe in the Lady's Home Journal? As you can see all of the important things that anybody who is anybody needs to know.
Once in awhile mother trusted daddy to go check the mailbox inside. She pointed out to him as it is a wife's duty that he needed to speak to people as he went up or came down the steps. Because daddy loved mother more than life itself, he promised to do better. Lo and behold the opportunity came the very next day.
Daddy was coming down the postal steps as an attractive young lady was going up. He spoke, she spoke, and a conversation ensued. The two parted and daddy continued to the car with a smile on his face because he had proven to mother that he did listen to what she said. But, when he got into the car, there were icicles hanging on the steering wheel and the temperature had to be twenty below. A pair of eyes glared at him as he was asked, “who was that woman?” Something was wrong, just plain wrong.
Daddy happily was never allowed to leave the car again. He smoked his cigar, read his paper, and never dared look to the left, right, or straight ahead.
When mother was not in the room daddy ended this story with a big smile. Because, he knew that somewhere an attractive young lady was telling her friends about the time she stopped in a small southern town to mail a letter and met a true southern gentleman.
Brenda Loyd Allred grew up in Summerville when it was a very small town. She now lives at Franke at Seaside with her husband Les.