Six
teachers lived at Mrs. Wood’s---always phrased with an apostrophe, as was shopping at Kroger’s---one still in residence after twenty-one years, and the
latest, for two. Mrs. Wood was a
widowed lady whose husband’s family had been “well off” in early days, and had
built a house to fit their own six children and flurry of social activities.
Mr.
Wood, having lived on with Mama and Daddy until their deaths when he was in his
forties, inherited that big house, by dint of long custom and residence. He made his living at the Railroad Depot, tapping out the mysterious messages in Morse, retrieving and hanging the bulging mail-bags which hung from the long gallows-arm like heavy fruit until magically grabbed-on-the-fly by the rattle-roar of the passing train. He had gained a mantle of magic to the town children, as well, as the man who could talk across the wire with his fingers, coupled with a mystical aura of one who appeased the roaring beast twice a day.
He had gently courted the pretty young Miss Ruth when his parents were living, escorting her to church and singing programs and the Senior Play for several years, with an occasional date to the picture show or to his Lions’ Club Dance.
He had gently courted the pretty young Miss Ruth when his parents were living, escorting her to church and singing programs and the Senior Play for several years, with an occasional date to the picture show or to his Lions’ Club Dance.
Mrs.
Wood had been a teacher herself for some few years and was just-past-forty when
they married, so she did not return to teaching after her husband passed away.
And
there was ALWAYS a waiting list---with the new residents chosen with an eye to
compatability and good nature. The
house was welcoming, the cooking was excellent, and the company agreeable, with
breakfast at seven, supper-right-after-John Cameron Swayze, and lunch on
weekends and every day in Summer. Mrs.
Wood set a good table, having two freezers out on the screen-porch ---one just
for the beef and pork “spoken for” from Mr. Neighbors, one for vegetables and
fruit shelled and peeled and put up by Margaret and some of the ladies themselves
in Summertime, and an extra refrigerator in the butler’s pantry so each of her residents could have a space
for whatever extra treats or refreshments she cared to bring in herself.
And another draw and convenience was that Mrs. Wood had the distinction of having not one but TWO water heaters installed out there with the freezers.
And another draw and convenience was that Mrs. Wood had the distinction of having not one but TWO water heaters installed out there with the freezers.
Miss Edith Mae Jones was one of the long-time residents at the “Teacherage” as Mrs.
Wood’s home was called by the old-time residents of the town, and had secured a
nice reputation for herself as an orator and actress and performer at little
local events. Her room in the top east
corner smelled of Woodhue and lemon drops and an ever-so-faint wisp of the Vicks
salve she kept to ease her throat, and her shelves were arranged with volumes
of poetry and Shakespeare and many of the slim, flexible little books of
readings from Shaw and Longfellow and Service and Millay, most of which she "knew by heart."
And
moiré non, of these quiet ladies of the past, and their gentle ripples toward
the future.
Hello Rachel:
ReplyDeleteWhat a splendid tale, and so beautifully written. We are enchanted.
Such and air of gentility to be found at Mrs. Wood's is unlikely, we feel, to be replicated anywhere in today's world where the niceties which surely existed under that roof would be unknown to the present generation of single people. How indeed times have changed.
Enchantment, indeed! I'm confident that there are folks even now who would treasure sharing Mrs. Wood's home.
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