Historical October 1987 report or notice. Original dates, prices and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
“It has been a long time, honey,” he said.
The rocker swing curved slowly back and forth on the porch.
The lip of the newspaper lying between them moved up and down with the slight breeze caused by the swing of the rocker. Other than the breeze caused by this movement, it was a warm evening.
There was too much humidity and nothing but still air. “People laughed when we were first married and I told them of my idea. Of course, back in the depression we were all looking for things to make us laugh.” He looked at her and smiled and continued. “Gosh, we were so in love. Who could’ve guessed that the marriage would have lasted fifty-eight years, and then these two more? “I think the hardest time was after Jeff went off to war and was killed in Germany.
It seems like there were years when I couldn’t look at you without thinking of him. Those were hard years.
If I’d been younger, I would’ve been drafted and maybe the shell would have missed me. “Our relationship sure has been a good one,” he said “in spite of what happened to Jeff. We’ve had some good times. Heck, maybe that made us stronger. Who knows?” He paused and raised his can of beer, holding it at arm’s length in front of him.
For several minutes he slowly turned the can back and forth, tilting it, peering at it, as if he were inspecting the finish for some imperfection.
Without a word, then, he pulled the beer back and took a small drink.
He swallowed loudly and rubbed his right forearm against his mouth, wiping his lips with the cuff of his shirt. “I just don’t understand what’s happening in the country today.
Look at this, right there on the front page.
This Madonna is parading around in her underwear at a concert.
If that’s not bad enough, they publish a picture of it!” A few minutes passed with no sound between them.
The street was silent except for the passing of an occasional car. “I agree,” he said, although the woman next to him had not spoken. “Yes,” he went on, “you’re right, this is not the way that the founders wanted it, wanted us, to be.” There was a sharp sound from down the block, on his right.
He turned his head and adjusted his body slightly as he tried to see what had caused the noise.
The woman did not move, but continued to face forward.
He could see nothing out of the ordinary, and sat back in the swing, exhaling loudly. “Kids,” he complained, his voice rising slightly. “It’s those kids again playing with fireworks.
It could even be a gun. Who knows these days?” He picked up a section of the paper and without looking at it, sat it back in the pile between them.
It was very quiet now and the silence was punctuated only by the soft protest of the old swing as it moved back and forth. “It’s times like this, you know, times when we can be together that I’m glad I did it.” Dusk was leaving now and it was becoming much darker.
The bare bulb on the porch was too far away to give much light to the swing, and even at this time of night it remained hot and humid. “They didn’t understand that I couldn’t go on without you,” he said in a voice that contained amazement, although he had told her this hundreds of times before. “I always hoped that we’d die together and I know you felt the same way too. “But in the end, when you kept getting sicker, I started thinking of what could I do. “I remember the doctor’s words.
It was all I could do not to punch him in the face.” He took a gulp from his beer and wiped his mouth with his sleeve again.
He then wiped the sweat from his face on his sleeve.
He was wordless for a few moments, and moved the can of beer in a circular motion, causing the liquid to spin within the can. Quickly he jerked the can to his mouth and drained it.
In what seemed like one motion, he bent over, sat the empty can on the ground beside the swing, picked up another can from a cooler along side the swing, and opened it.
He took a quick drink from the can and spoke, “I cried for the longest time and then went to see you, but it was already too late.” He raised the can and took a long drink, and began to sit the can on the arm of the swing.
As if he had heard something, he stopped and turned his head to the left and looked at the woman.
He smiled and took another drink and then another. “The hardest part was finding a taxidermist.
Oh, there were plenty of them in the phone book, but they all thought that I was kidding or that I was crazy. “Remember how I had to drive to Oklahoma to find him? “His fee was outrageous, $2,500, cash, and that was two years ago. “I’m glad I did it, though, honey.
It would be awfully lonely without you.” He took another drink and pushed with his foot to move the rocker a bit more quickly. Somewhere down the street there was another sharp noise. “It’s those kids again,” he said. “What do you think we should do?”
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, October 1987.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1987_10.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
