Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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2 Comments:
Eloquent! So when are you going to write that novel? Oh boy, Powhatan! I hope you got a chance to stop in at Holly Spring Homespun! Although, that just might be torture, since it's still the Year of No Fiber. Hope you had fun! Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Saturday, November 18, 2006 I’m slipping over to Richmond today. Oh. I love to type that. I can hear Aunt Rene saying it. I can hear Virginia Powers. I can hear Clarice Blackwell. Long gone women of my early years here in the country. Women who, if they were not aunts or cousins, were as good as. These were the women who waited for men to come home from Europe or the Pacific. These were the women who ran the fund drives for hospitals and libraries. They raised my husband’s generation - half way between me and my parents. They rode the buggy to school in the teens and watched electricity come to the country in the thirties. They arranged weddings, some hurriedly, some leisurely, all elegant and cousin filled. They baked lemon chess pies and bought Pendleton Suits at Anderton’s department store. There was one special suit which Virginia Powers wanted to buy, but first she asked Aunt Rene to go see if she thought it was the right choice for her. It was so right that Aunt Rene bought it instead. They remained best friends for life. Clarice, on the other hand, was satisfied with the fashion advice of whatever clerk happened to be at the register whenever she stopped in - which was almost daily. As widows, they were all in love with Rev. Corey, who’s wife left him for someone more interesting, even though he had the most mellifluous voice, and was tall! And they all yearned to go to Richmond as frequently as possible. They shopped at Miller and Rhoads, Thalheimers, Montaldos and Berry Burke. They stopped at Cokesburry to look at the latest best sellers. They bought costume jewelry for their daughters at The Jewel Room and the real stuff at Schwartzchild’s. They went to the metropolis whenever they could wangle the car from somber husbands who would shake their heads and mutter that you didn't see their mothers running off to Richmond all the time. Hence the term Slip over to Richmond - which sounded as if they were not going much further than the Minor post office, or maybe Watts Store at Millers. And even though I grew up in Richmond and even though that old Richmond of downtown is long gone, and even though, as BD says, I’ll actually be going to Powhatan County, I still think, even if I don’t say it, that I’ll just Slip over to Richmond. I’ll remember those Dear Old Things. I’ll remember my youth. I’ll go. Today. To see the folks. posted by Bess | 7:59 AM |
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