Edgecombe, my Aunt Helen murmured, Do be a dear and fetch me my pills. I fear I feel a migraine coming on. She carefully removed her reading glasses and laid them and the slim, gilt edged book of poetry she had been reading on the chair arm, then pressed her perfect French manicured fingertips to her temples. Boston born and Beacon Hill bred, this was her first visit to the island and she was still recovering from the shock of a five bedroom house with only one bathroom, the lack of what she delicately referred to as "help", and most of all, the appallingly widespread use of linoleum - no carpeting, no area rugs, no tile or imitation wood, just plain old linoleum in every room. She had stood hesitantly in the kitchen then slowly made her way through the rest of the house, finally remembering her upbringing and telling my grandmother, How .....marvelously practical, Alice! And so clever of you to have thought of it!
Uncle Eddie, always the first to admit that his upper class wife has been born into the wrong century - You'd have been perfect in the late 1800's, my dear, you were made for watercress sandwiches and parasols - obediently fetched the pills. And I would've worn a cutaway and a monocle and courted you in a horse drawn carriage with a lap robe and hot bricks for your feet!
Edgecombe, Aunt Helen protested sharply, Really, you are uncommonly annoying at times.
Uncle Eddie laughed and kissed her cheek, And you, dear heart, are an insufferable elitist but I adore you!
My grandmother listened to all this while glaring stubbornly at the puzzle pieces as if willing them to fall into place.
Shall I bring you a cold compress, Helen, dear, or a cup of peppermint tea? she asked with a sacccharine sweetness and her sister in law narrowed her eyes in suspicion and shook her head. It was at that precise moment that Willie Foot arrived at the sunporch side door - impressively astride a pair of stilts - hopped down and peered in through the glass with a broad, toothless smile, his hair looking as if he'd been plugged into an electrical outlet and his crossed eyes dancing. Aunt Helen gave a small, ladylike scream and clutched at her pearls, Alice! There's a savage at the door! she exclaimed, Heaven protect us! And with one last wide eyed, open mouthed breath, she promptly fainted.
Once more into the fray, dear friends! Uncle Eddie cheerfully misquoted as my exasperated grandmother went to the door. Judas Priest, Willie! she demanded crossly, Stilts? Put them back where you found them this very minute! Pulling a dollar bill from her apron pocket, she handed it to the wild little man - he in turn tried to kiss her hand - and she slapped his wrist sharply, Go on with you! Willie carefully folded the bill and tucked it behind one ear, then remounted the stilts and like a careening wind mill headed down the front path, losing his balance and tumbling into the ditch just as he reached the road. Nana shook her head and beckoned to me, Go and see if he's broken anything, she told me with an overcome sigh, But first, bring me the smelling salts.
Willie was no more battered or bruised than usual - even the stilts were intact - but Aunt Helen spent the rest of the day in bed with the curtains drawn and the door closed. Uncle Eddie carried her dinner to her on a tray and consented to Nana's suggestion of a little brandy in her coffee. By the next morning, she appeared to have regained her composure and although pale and a little shaken, she sat stiffly at the dining room table and allowed herself to be served. Nana discreetly doctored her coffee with additional brandy before suggesting a trip to the mainland. To civilization? Helen asked hopefully and my grandmother nodded, Such as it is, Helen, dear, such as it is. Uncle Eddie poured her more coffee and smiled.
To her credit, my Aunt Helen persevered and lasted the entire week, as planned, although she was never to visit the island again. She spent her days reading and writing letters home, working on her embroidery and keeping a wary eye for strangers and savages at the windows. Nana kept her little bottle of smelling salts close at hand while Uncle Eddie fished and chopped wood, picked berries and grew tanned and happy in the company of fishermen, family, and old friends.
Helen's thank you note, postmarked from the mainland and arriving the very day after their departure, prompting my grandmother to believe it had been written well in advance, was socially correct and unflattering. My dear Alice, she wrote, We are grateful for your hospitality, the weather was clement and the surroundings quite beautiful . The
islanders, although of breeding bereft, have an intriguing life style. I know you will understand that it is not always wise for the classes to mingle so we will not be returning next year. We would, however, be pleased to entertain you at Beacon Hill.
Nana read it twice then dropped it into the old wood stove.
My dear Helen, she wrote back, I completely understand your feelings but do hope that you will reconsider next year. Given sufficient time, I'm quite confident that I can turn around the island's unfortunate opinion of you. We may be of breeding bereft, but we are a forgiving and tolerant people. As to Beacon Hill, I fear the distance has become too great for me to travel.
"There are times when two people need to step apart from one another, but there is no rule that says they have to turn and fire."
Robert Brault, poet and free lance writer
Uncle Eddie, always the first to admit that his upper class wife has been born into the wrong century - You'd have been perfect in the late 1800's, my dear, you were made for watercress sandwiches and parasols - obediently fetched the pills. And I would've worn a cutaway and a monocle and courted you in a horse drawn carriage with a lap robe and hot bricks for your feet!
Edgecombe, Aunt Helen protested sharply, Really, you are uncommonly annoying at times.
Uncle Eddie laughed and kissed her cheek, And you, dear heart, are an insufferable elitist but I adore you!
My grandmother listened to all this while glaring stubbornly at the puzzle pieces as if willing them to fall into place.
Shall I bring you a cold compress, Helen, dear, or a cup of peppermint tea? she asked with a sacccharine sweetness and her sister in law narrowed her eyes in suspicion and shook her head. It was at that precise moment that Willie Foot arrived at the sunporch side door - impressively astride a pair of stilts - hopped down and peered in through the glass with a broad, toothless smile, his hair looking as if he'd been plugged into an electrical outlet and his crossed eyes dancing. Aunt Helen gave a small, ladylike scream and clutched at her pearls, Alice! There's a savage at the door! she exclaimed, Heaven protect us! And with one last wide eyed, open mouthed breath, she promptly fainted.
Once more into the fray, dear friends! Uncle Eddie cheerfully misquoted as my exasperated grandmother went to the door. Judas Priest, Willie! she demanded crossly, Stilts? Put them back where you found them this very minute! Pulling a dollar bill from her apron pocket, she handed it to the wild little man - he in turn tried to kiss her hand - and she slapped his wrist sharply, Go on with you! Willie carefully folded the bill and tucked it behind one ear, then remounted the stilts and like a careening wind mill headed down the front path, losing his balance and tumbling into the ditch just as he reached the road. Nana shook her head and beckoned to me, Go and see if he's broken anything, she told me with an overcome sigh, But first, bring me the smelling salts.
Willie was no more battered or bruised than usual - even the stilts were intact - but Aunt Helen spent the rest of the day in bed with the curtains drawn and the door closed. Uncle Eddie carried her dinner to her on a tray and consented to Nana's suggestion of a little brandy in her coffee. By the next morning, she appeared to have regained her composure and although pale and a little shaken, she sat stiffly at the dining room table and allowed herself to be served. Nana discreetly doctored her coffee with additional brandy before suggesting a trip to the mainland. To civilization? Helen asked hopefully and my grandmother nodded, Such as it is, Helen, dear, such as it is. Uncle Eddie poured her more coffee and smiled.
To her credit, my Aunt Helen persevered and lasted the entire week, as planned, although she was never to visit the island again. She spent her days reading and writing letters home, working on her embroidery and keeping a wary eye for strangers and savages at the windows. Nana kept her little bottle of smelling salts close at hand while Uncle Eddie fished and chopped wood, picked berries and grew tanned and happy in the company of fishermen, family, and old friends.
Helen's thank you note, postmarked from the mainland and arriving the very day after their departure, prompting my grandmother to believe it had been written well in advance, was socially correct and unflattering. My dear Alice, she wrote, We are grateful for your hospitality, the weather was clement and the surroundings quite beautiful . The
islanders, although of breeding bereft, have an intriguing life style. I know you will understand that it is not always wise for the classes to mingle so we will not be returning next year. We would, however, be pleased to entertain you at Beacon Hill.
Nana read it twice then dropped it into the old wood stove.
My dear Helen, she wrote back, I completely understand your feelings but do hope that you will reconsider next year. Given sufficient time, I'm quite confident that I can turn around the island's unfortunate opinion of you. We may be of breeding bereft, but we are a forgiving and tolerant people. As to Beacon Hill, I fear the distance has become too great for me to travel.
"There are times when two people need to step apart from one another, but there is no rule that says they have to turn and fire."
Robert Brault, poet and free lance writer
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