The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree

Magnolia Manor was the name Bessie had given to her family home after her father died, taking with him to the grave the Civil War military pension that had supported them both. Trying to come up with an idea that would earn some money, Bessie turned the place into a boardinghouse, which suited her own minimal needs and brought in enough to pay the taxes, buy coal and electricity, and buy meat and such staples as flour, sugar, coffee, and tea.

The ladies didn’t pay much, because they didn’t have much. Mrs. Sedalius’ son (a doctor in Mobile) sent a small check once a month (just the check, never a letter). Miss Rogers earned a few dollars a week at the library. Leticia was a Civil War widow and got her husband’s pension, while Maxine owned two small houses and the tenants usually (but not always) paid rent. Roseanne had once lived in Maysville, but after her husband died and her daughters got married, she moved in with Bessie and traded her cooking and laundry talents for board and room. Both Roseanne and Bessie were satisfied with the arrangement, especially Roseanne, who was scared to death of ending up in the poorhouse. Cypress County had a poorhouse, of course—all the counties in the state were required to have one—but there wasn’t enough money to manage it right and nobody in her right mind wanted to end up there.

Bessie had once read that in England, the government gave its elderly citizens an old-age pension. She thought this was a very good idea and wished that America would do this, too, the sooner the better. In fact, she had recently written an urgent letter to Senator Bankhead, telling him that he ought to get behind Huey P. Long’s proposal that everybody over sixty should receive a pension. But she wasn’t surprised when she didn’t get an answer. Huey Long thought that the government should guarantee every family in the nation five thousand dollars a year, and that nobody should earn more than a million dollars a year. People who had money didn’t like him. They thought he was dangerous, and he probably was, and a Communist and maybe he was that, too (although he said he wasn’t). But Bessie liked his ideas and wished that Huey P. Long could come over and take charge of Alabama, because Louisiana did not deserve him.

She had even heard Huey P. Long on the radio. Two Christmases before, Mrs. Sedalius’ son (who probably felt guilty because he never came to visit) had sent his mother a Crosley five-tube table model radio. The ladies were scandalized, because Miss Rogers had seen an advertisement in Popular Mechanics and knew that it sold for fifty dollars. “See it, hear it!” exhorted the advertisement. “View the refreshing beauty of its solid mahogany cabinet. Watch the stations, written in on the graphic dial, parade before you and usher in their programs with unerring accuracy. Sharpen the reception with the Crosley Acuminators. Release inspiring volume by means of the Cresendon.”

It took a while for the ladies to learn how to manage the acuminators and the cresendon and to replace the tubes when they burned out. But they persevered, and now they were very glad to have it. Bessie put the radio on the parlor table, and on warm evenings after supper, they liked to sit out on the front porch with the window open, listening to radio shows. The Aldrich Family was a favorite (they all chimed in with Mrs. Aldrich’s “Henry! Henry Aldrich!” and Henry’s quavery reply: “Coming, Mother.”) They enjoyed popular music, too, particularly the older songs: “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles” and “I’ll Be with You in Apple Blossom Time” and “Smilin’ Through.”

While they listened, Leticia and Maxine played games—Parcheesi, pinochle, canasta. Tonight they were playing checkers, betting heavily with pieces of colored cardboard marked as ones, fives, and tens. Roseanne, piecing another quilt, sat on the porch swing next to Mrs. Sedalius, who was knitting caps for the poor children at her church. Since the yarn was donated, it came in wild colors that nobody else wanted, and since Mrs. Sedalius didn’t have much color sense, the caps were even wilder combinations. Bessie always wondered whether even the poor children would wear them. Miss Rogers sat off to one side, reading a library book. Bessie herself brought out a small table and worked on her local history scrapbook.