By the way, Ralph’s lovely bride, Edna, is also not unknown in these parts. As you all may recall, last fall, she was a finalist in the Pillsbury Bake-Off contest with her one-of-a-kind sweet-and-sour double cream apple pie. Yum yum. Ralph is the son of Mary and Richard Childress. Edna is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. J. D. Nobblit of Second Avenue South.
We were saddened to hear of the death of Elmwood Springs native Mr. Gustav Tildholme, who still has several cousins living in the area. Mr. Tildholme was buried here last week. Arvis and Neva Oberg, who own the Rest Assured Funeral Home and were in charge of the interment, said that dozens of condolences came in for Mr. Tildholme from all around the world. I am told that Mr. Tildholme had been quite successful in the import-export business and owned companies in many different countries.
P.S. Make sure your roses are watered. And don’t forget to watch out for aphids. Remember, ladybugs are your roses’ best friend.
* * *
Some time later, after Gustav had said hello to everyone, he and Lucille continued their conversation where they’d left off.
He said, “I always thought about you, always wondered how you were doing. After I left, I had some crazy notion that I would come back with lots of money, buy the old farm, and—”
“Oh, Gustav, I wish you had written.”
“I should have. But then I heard you were engaged to be married, so I just didn’t.”
“But…I was never engaged to anyone.”
“You weren’t?”
“No, Gustav…that was wrong.”
“I heard that you were…so then I just took off. Jumped on a freighter and just traveled the world. Japan, China, India, South America, you name it.”
“Oh my, Gustav, all those exotic places. But then, you always did so well in geography.”
“Yes, I guess that was the one subject I really liked. So…you never married?”
“No…never.”
Gustav said, “Good God, all these years, I thought you had. I was a fool to run off like that. Too much pride, I guess. I wasted all that time. Always looking for someone like you. I even married once. A really nice lady in Rio de Janeiro. But she was not you. I should have just come home….How could I have been so damn stupid?”
“Oh, Gustav, it’s not your fault. I could have written to you and asked you to come home…I suppose I was just too afraid of what people might say. But we can’t do anything about the past. You’re here now, and that’s all that really matters…and if you had come back, you might never have seen the world.”
“That’s probably true…but what about you, Lucille?”
“Well…I was lonely at times. Luckily, I had my students. And you know, Gustav, to this very day some of my old students still come out and visit me. Can you imagine that?”
“I can. You were a wonderful teacher.”
“Oh, thank you, Gustav. It means the world to me that you thought so.”
It was true. She had been a wonderful teacher. Lucille’s life had been, in some ways, a lonely life, but a fulfilling one. She loved watching all of her students grow into adults. And then teaching their children, and later their grandchildren, had brought her a lot of comfort.
She didn’t know it, but she had changed so many lives just by being there year after year, and by saying the right things at the exact right time.
One student, a frail boy who some of the other boys sometimes made fun of, had gone on to become a very successful playwright in New York and had written to tell her about something she had forgotten:
Even when I was failing math and everything else and I was feeling so bad about myself, you sat down with me and said, “Honey, there are those who do well at math, and then there are those, like yourself, who have been blessed with a creative mind and a wonderful imagination. I just know you are going on to do great things.” You’ll never know how you changed my life that day.
Sadly, she had not lived to hear it. But when that same student won the Tony Award for “Best Play of the Year,” he had ended his acceptance speech with these words: “Last of all, I’d like to thank my sixth-grade teacher, who believed in me when nobody else did.” He then raised the award up in the air, looked up, and said, “This is for you, Miss Beemer.”
—
AS LUCILLE BEEMER HAD learned over the years, people may never really know why their lives turn out the way they do, but in the end, they usually turn out exactly the way they’re supposed to. She had lost Gustav for a while, and it had been hard, but she had him now forever and just maybe…even beyond.
After Gustav had been at Still Meadows for a couple of years, he said to her, “Honey, listen. If one day, I should leave here before you do, remember this: No matter where I go…or wherever I am, I’ll wait for you. I’m not going to lose you again. No matter what, I’ll find you.”
Old Man Hendersen suddenly called over. “Good God almighty. How long are you two gonna keep all this love mush up? You’re making me sick.”
Gustav laughed and yelled back, “Forever, you crazy old coot. Go back to sleep.”
—
DOWN IN ELMWOOD SPRINGS, things continued to run pretty smoothly. People were laughing at Candid Camera and The Red Skelton Show and enjoying The Garry Moore Show with funny girl Carol Burnett. Elner Shimfissle, who had just gotten television out at the farm, never missed The Lawrence Welk Show. Her mother had played the accordion, and she liked his playing and loved to watch Lawrence and the “Champagne Lady” dance. And all the young girls were in love with Tab Hunter.
By 1960, Sweet Clover Dairy had expanded its products into six states. It not only was providing a lot of employment for locals, but it had become a real source of pride to the town.
When Glenn Warren attended a dinner for Midwest store owners, held in Cincinnati, he asked Mr. Sockwell of Little Rock, Arkansas, if he had ever heard of Sweet Clover Dairy butter. Mr. Sockwell said, “Sure, they stock their products in all the local markets in my area. The wife buys the milk and cheese, too…why?”
“That company was started in my hometown.”
“Really…Huh…”
“Yes, by a Swedish fellow named Nordstrom. My dad was good friends with him.”
Ander and Beatrice had done so many things that had endeared them to the community. In 1949, they had started a college scholarship fund and had funded the building of the local hospital.
Ander had also put up the money to bail Tot Whooten’s husband, James, out of jail on numerous occasions. When he brought him home for about the fifth time, Tot said, “Ander, thank you, but you ought to just let him sit in jail for a while….He’s just gonna do it again.” And, of course, he did.
—
NORMA’S DAUGHTER, LINDA, WAS now attending Dixie Cahill’s School of Tap and Twirl. Tot Whooten’s daughter, Darlene, had been attending, but Dixie called Tot one day and told her that it was best that Darlene not come back. Dixie said, “Tot…Darlene is never going to make a dancer, and I hate to have you spend your hard-earned money on something that is never going to pay off.”