December 31, 2018
I check the time. 11:55 p.m. On this night, I’m not dancing or raising a glass of champagne as a band plays nostalgic tunes and ushers in the New Year.
I sit in the den by myself in front of an electric fireplace, my dogs Roo Roo and Petey Poo at my feet. For me and for so many others, an old year over and done is a time of reflection, a new year full of hope and promises. All across our country glasses are lifted, fireworks poised to blast. I pet my dogs, raise a glass and sing, “Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot.” In my house there are no, “Hear, Hears!” Instead, a pair of dogs flatten their ears, and lay their heads between their front paws.
I hoist a glass of bourbon and diet Coke (caffeine free), toss my head and take a long, deep swallow. I put my glass down and send Petey Poo to his bed in the back bathroom, and Roo Roo to my bedroom.
Before bedding down for the night, I go back to the den and once again raise my glass to auld lang syne. When I think of times past I am grateful for the many years I have had, the gifts my parents gave, for my brother Alvin, sons Bob and Bill, my daughters-in-law and all the grands and greats.
For my girls, who are no longer with me, Pat and Tootie, and granddaughter Brent. And now, on this night, with one year past and another one waiting, I go back where it all began. Those two little girls Pat and Tootie, who became a part of my life so many years ago. Ages ten and eight; the smiles on their faces at my wedding to their father, and my son Bob, age four, sensing his life was changing, covering his head with a pillow as Willard and I said our vows.
I set the glass down and pick up a picture of my husband. “You always sipped from a cup of kindness,” I said.
“The look on your face. Your love and generosity, your compassion for others shines through.”
How blessed I have been. When you’re alone like I am on New Years, these memories are dear and precious. I hold Willard’s picture close, then set it down.
Though we’re apart, you’re all, always on my mind, forever in my heart.
January 4, 2019
I check the time - 7:30 a.m. On this morning, two dogs at my feet, once again I indulge myself. This time no glass of bourbon and diet coke, instead I raise another cup of coffee, (half decaf) pick up the Northside Sun and turn to the writings in Section A.
Reading Jay Wiener’s Sun Reflections, the names, places, and events he lists, puts me in mind of the olden days. Still pondering those times I go on down the page to Memory Lane and when I read the memories of Morgan Center written by Averyell Kessler I can’t help but roll the clock hands back.
Ed and Ruby Morgan were the couple who organized and helped start, one of the first shopping centers in the state, Morgan Center. I was in the ninth grade at Bailey and the best I recall, Morgan Center opened in l946. (I always tail-skimmed past arithmetic on a D-minus, so I could be off by a year or two.) Brent’s, along with other stores in the center, now known as Woodland Hills had their grand opening.
On that long ago day, along with my friends, Mary Anna Kendall, Martha Lila Short, Betty Ward, Martha Whitfield, Barbara Hall, Karen Gilfoy and Janie Black, I drag-footed from Bailey to my Daddy’s drugstore. On the way down North State Street we walked past what is now UMMC. (Back then it was another facility, the state mental hospital called The Old Insane Asylum. )
To my surprise and delight, when my friends and I stepped off of North State, Old Canton Road and Duling Street were filled with cars in a bumper to bumper traffic jam.
On this opening day, soda fountain Edna was there; she came with my daddy from Patterson’s Drugstore in the Standard Life building. And oh, those dear dead days beyond recall: you never saw her without a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes in the top pocket of her crisp white uniform. Doc Noble soon became my daddy’s partner. Tall Bobbye Drake arrived to take charge of cosmetics and start the gift section.. Then came Fish. Even to this day, I can testify that nobody could ever make a milkshake like Fish. She had magic in her hands and elevated soda jerking to a pure art form.
Alvin remembered Bruce’s Barber Shop, that a haircut only cost him twenty-five cents and that there was an open door between Brent’s and Jitney-Jungle.
I recalled my daddy’s friends who came early in the mornings to drink coffee, discuss politics, to solve all the world’s problems. Leon Burton, Bill Montgomery, Tiny Sampson, and a few other friends, whose names I have forgotten.
Shortly after the store opened, a pair of twins came to work behind the soda fountain, Ed and Ned Sweeney. Just fifteen when they started, the two of them were always perfect gentlemen. Years later, when openings came up for black policemen in Jackson, my father recommended those nice young men to his friend, Mayor Allen C. Thompson. They were hired and to the best of my knowledge, they were among the first black policemen the city of Jackson had. We were so proud of and for them.
Ned passed away several years ago, Ed last January.
Thanks, Jay and Averyell, for unfolding some of those old scenes. Your words and memories were a gift to me. Y’all did yourselves, Morgan Center/Woodland Hills and Jackson right proud.
