Standing in the Rainbow (54 page)

A
unt Elner had been out in the yard dealing with a dog that was chasing her cat and had missed most of Neighbor Dorothy’s show but she ran in and turned it on to try to catch the tail end of it anyway. This was Neighbor Dorothy’s last week on the air and she did not want to miss one second of it.

“We received another postcard from our tin-can tourists, Ada and Bess Goodnight. Bess says their travels are over; they have settled down and plan to stay there forever. Their new home is the Ollie Trout Trailer Camp, located on Biscayne Boulevard at 107th Street, one and a half miles north of the Miami city limits. The postcard has a lovely picture and describes Ollie’s as one of the finest automobile trailer tourist parks in the country, offering three hundred and fifty individual lots with a coconut palm on each corner. It sounds like heaven to me. The card is signed, ‘Whoopee, come and see us. Ada and Bess Goodnight.’

“It seems like they just left yesterday and they have been gone for over nine years now. Well, I’ve caught you up on all the news, so I thought I’d take this time to talk about something that’s been on my mind for a while. Last night Doc and I were sitting in the backyard watching the sun go down and the stars come out . . . and what a pretty sight . . . to see the first little star come twinkling on . . . the night was so warm and lovely and we sat there until they had all come out and I had a thought. I wondered how we would feel if we never had stars or the moon, just a dark sky and then, one night, they suddenly all appeared in the sky. We would all be in awe, I’m sure, and say, What a wondrous sight, but sometimes I get so busy I forget to look at the moon and the stars and appreciate how lucky we are to have them. We never appreciate the moon until he goes behind a dark cloud, do we? God gave us so many beautiful things to look at, and now that both my children are grown and gone, Doc and I spend a lot more time counting our blessings and we have had more than our share. I know that we were so lucky to have had Mother Smith with us for so many years. Both our children are happy and healthy and I have been blessed, too, with so many wonderful neighbors, my real neighbors and all my radio neighbors, who have been with me throughout the years. I often wonder what I did to deserve such a wonderful life. It’s going to be hard not to come to the microphone every morning for our visit but you and I know that, unfortunately, time marches on and waits for no man, as they say, or even woman. I am sure that the new folks coming along will have a lot of exciting things to offer. It’s been a long run . . . thirty-eight years of broadcasting is more than I could have ever hoped for.

“As most of you know, Doc is retiring this month and we are looking forward to doing some traveling and a lot of visiting. At the end of our lives we don’t have much money and are not rich in material things, but as I sit and reread the letters you have sent me throughout the years I am wealthy as a millionaire and I hope you will still write to me every once in a while. I have been asked to stop by the studio in Poplar Bluff and chat with you from time to time, so you won’t be rid of me altogether, but we still have a week to go, so I won’t say good-bye. I’ll just say until tomorrow, this is Neighbor Dorothy coming to you from 5348 First Avenue North in Elmwood Springs, Missouri. Where you are always welcome and have a nice day.”

Elner got up from the table, sighing and wondering what in the world life would be like without
The Neighbor Dorothy
Show
. She was not the only one. In a kitchen twenty miles outside of town, a farm woman went into the left drawer by the sink and pulled out a writing tablet and, after testing about six, finally found a ballpoint pen that still had ink in it. She sat down and started a letter.

Dear Neighbor Dorothy,

Just thought I’d drop you a line and tell you how much I’ll miss hearing you on the radio every day. Listening to you was always such a comfort to me and I did not feel so alone way out here, so far from town. It would have been a lonely old life if it had not been for you and your family. At times I almost felt like Bobby and Anna Lee were mine as well. Lord, we have been through it all, haven’t we? You have truly been a good neighbor.

Your friend,

Mrs. Vernon Boshell

Route 3

The End of an Era

D
OC HAD BEEN
at the drugstore, training the young pharmacist who was taking his place, when the prescription was called in. The minute he saw who the heart medicine was for he went home. They never did travel. It was a warm autumn that year, so they spent some of the days sitting in the Sweetheart Swing out back and watching the sun go down.

On October 22, a tall, thin radio announcer walked into the booth, looked up at the clock, and waited. At exactly 9:30, instead of the
Tops in Pops
show, which usually aired after the news, a surprised listening audience heard: “Ladies and gentlemen, station WDOT is sad to report that a friend is dead. Last evening, Neighbor Dorothy passed away quietly in her home in Elmwood Springs. She is survived by her daughter, Anna Lee, and a son, Robert. We wish to extend our deepest sympathies to them and to the hundreds of radio listeners who came to know and love her over the years.

“The family requests that if you wish to remember her, in lieu of flowers, please send a donation to the Princess Mary Margaret Fund, in care of the Elmwood Springs Humane Society. In remembrance, we here at station WDOT will be off the air for one hour in silent tribute to a woman who will be missed by all.

“We would like to close with this thought. What is a life? The best and most noble life is one lived in such a way that it can be said of a person, as they pass on to the next life, that while she was here she brought love and joy and comfort to all she touched. Such was the life lived by the woman known to all simply as Neighbor Dorothy. Although her voice here on earth has been silenced, we would like to think that somewhere, in another place, people are just now turning on their radios and hearing her for the very first time. Good-bye, dear friend.”

THE EIGHTIES

A Scare

F
OR ALL THE YEARS
and hours that Norma had spent worrying over every little thing, the moment that something really terrible did happen she was the one who was calm and was able to keep a clear head. She had not said a word to Macky or Aunt Elner. All they knew is that she had gone in for her yearly checkup. She did not tell them anything until two weeks later. That night after dinner, after she put the dishes in the dishwasher and turned off the kitchen light, she sat down by Macky in the family room.

“Macky, I’m sure it’s nothing but they saw a little something on my mammogram that they didn’t like and Dr. Halling wants to do a biopsy.”

Macky felt the blood drain from his body. She went on.

“So, I’m going to go in on Wednesday. I should only be there for a day or so, but anyhow, I’m going to fix a few things and put them in the freezer for you so you can have them to eat while I’m gone.”

Macky finally got his voice. “Jesus Christ, when did this happen?”

“A few days ago.”

“A few days ago—why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because there was no point for you to worry. The only reason I’m telling you now is because they might keep me overnight, depending on what they find, and I didn’t want you to come home and wonder where I was.”

“Have you told Aunt Elner or Linda? Is she coming home?”

“No. Like I said, there is no point to telling anybody anything until we know what it is and it’s probably not anything at all.”

“Why would you keep something like this from me? What is the matter with you?”

“Nothing is the matter, honey, I just didn’t think you needed to worry, that’s all.”

“I’m your husband, for God’s sake, you don’t just say, Oh by the way, I think I might have cancer.”

The minute he said it he was sorry. But Norma got up and came over, pushed his hair back off his forehead, and patted his shoulder. “Oh, honey, I don’t have cancer.”

“But you could have.”

“The chances are rare, but even if I do, it’s not the end of the world. He said we caught it early.”

“Does he think it is?”

“No, he meant if, on the off chance that there is something, we caught it in time.”

After they went to bed he could not sleep and got up at about three in the morning and walked out in the backyard and tears ran down his cheeks. Not so much because he was scared to death but because it was her bravery that had always touched him more than he could tell her.

The next few days were pure hell. He realized that if he lost her he would never forgive himself. He wanted more years with her, so he could wake up every day and look at her and appreciate who she was, what she was. She was his wife, his lover, the mother of his child, but most of all she was his best friend. Without her he would be more lost than he already was.

He sat in the waiting room of the hospital and while they were doing the biopsy on Norma he thought about
time
, the one thing that could not be stopped. As a child, time had seemed like a windup toy. It had seemed so long on those days he sat in school waiting for the bell to ring and so short when he was having fun. So long from Christmas Eve night to Christmas morning. Now, in just a few seconds, the doctor would tell them the results. In those few seconds his life would never again be the same—or they would have another chance.

Did the white-coated people in the lab know what they were looking at? Would they go to lunch and not know that whatever they found under the microscope would change lives forever? He wanted to yell at the entire hospital,
Tha
t
’s my wife, tha
t
’s my entire life, our entire future you’re looking at
. Here was a man who could not stand to have anyone else drive, hated to fly because he was not comfortable unless he was at the controls, and now he was helpless. Totally dependent on the hospital staff, who looked to him to be no more than teenagers. What had happened to the older, gray-haired nurses and doctors he had remembered the last time she was in the hospital, having their daughter, thirty-one years ago, and what the hell are they so happy about? Didn’t they know how serious life and death was, for God’s sake? That poor sweetheart could wake up with her breast gone and be told that it had spread everywhere and that she was dying. Why in the hell hadn’t they found a cure for this thing yet?

What are we doing sending money all over the world, spending billions on the military budget and on making stupid movies and television shows? People are dying every day and we’re just throwing money away. Why aren’t they giving it to the scientists to find a cure? Something is wrong—cancer has been around too long; somebody must have a cure, they’re just not letting anybody know. He had worked himself into a murderous rage when the doctor came down the hall.

“Mr. Warren, we just got the report from the lab and it’s absolutely benign, so we’re gonna close her on up. She should be out of recovery in a few hours.” He spoke over his shoulder to another doctor that had just passed him in the hall. “Hey, Duke, can you get me two more tickets for the game tomorrow?”

Macky didn’t hear Duke’s response. He stood up and took a walk outside the hospital. Everything inside had been cold and sterile and now he was back out in the warm sunshine and he felt as if he could breathe again. He found himself smiling at the people he passed and at that moment he made a deal with himself. Anything that woman wants from now on, she gets.

Afterward, he had to remind himself of that deal he made that day outside the hospital. When he asked her the next year where she wanted to go for a vacation, she said, “Well, there is one place that I have been dying to go to, but I don’t know if you will want to.”

“Norma, I told you we will go anywhere you want.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Las Vegas and see Wayne Newton in concert.”

He would have gone to the moon had she wanted.

Revitalize Downtown Elmwood Springs

S
IX MONTHS
after they returned from Las Vegas, Norma finally found the civic cause she had been searching for. Somehow it seemed that after Neighbor Dorothy died, nobody ever came to town anymore. When she had her radio show, people came from miles around by the busloads, but now, with the new interstate, downtown was dying on the vine. At the next chamber of commerce meeting a brand-new committee to come up with solutions to revitalize downtown Elmwood Springs was formed and Norma was voted to head it. After walking downtown, clipboard in hand on a fact-finding tour, Norma reported her conclusion at the next meeting.

“We are too dull—what we
need
is a theme.”

“A theme? What kind of a theme?” asked Leona.

“A theme, something to make us different, make us stand out, set us apart from other towns so people will want to come here. We just don’t have any character; every building is just willy-nilly. We need to make an impression. When you drive in, what do you see? You see a sign that says
Welcome to Elmwood Springs
but we need more than that. We need to have one that offers an idea, a claim, something unique.
Home of the World’s Largest Sweet Potato
or something. We need to give people something unusual, an attraction that will make them want to get off the interstate and stop.”

They all fired at once:

“Can’t we think of something like that to get us in the
Guinness Book of World Records
?”

“Like the world’s largest cake. Or pie or pancake, even.”

“What about a waffle, the world’s biggest waffle?”

“But once you make it, it won’t last—you have to offer them something to see that’s still here.”

“We need something that’s indigenous.”

“How about home of the largest squash ever grown? Don’t you remember when Doc Smith grew that squash and sent it to the state fair?”

“How do you know it was the world’s largest squash? It was the state’s, but we don’t know for sure if it was the world’s.”

“All right, we can say the state’s largest squash—who’s going to know anyway? Or care?”

“I think they took a picture of it. We could find out, we could display that.”

“Well, I tell you what. I certainly wouldn’t turn off the interstate to look at a squash, much less a picture of a squash,” said Tot.

“What
do
we have a lot of?”

“Corn?”

“No, Iowa has corn. Idaho has the potato.”

“Rhubarb? Does anyone else have rhubarb?” asked Verbena, biting into a doughnut. “We could get a whole bunch and plant it real quick.”

“Why does it have to be a vegetable—why can’t it be a meat or a pastry or a beverage?”

Norma said, “I still think a theme would be better and permanent, like having Main Street look different somehow. Maybe have it look like a street in a different country, you know, like that Danish town in California.”

“What about this: We could have a town theme. All we would have to do is change everything into Swiss chalets and put bells on the cows and things. Call ourselves ‘Little Switzerland’ or something.”

“What cows? We don’t have any cows in town.”

“All right, you come up with something.”

“What about Hawaiian, I love that, everybody could wear muumuus and Dixie teaches the hula—maybe she could teach the whole town and we could give everybody a lei when they drove into town. Something like that.”

The next morning Norma drove around town trying to envision a theme that would, as the committee eventually had suggested, “more easily lend itself to fit the existing topography.” There was not a body of water to speak of, unless you included the lake or the springs, so the Hawaiian idea was out. Nor was there a mountain within three hundred miles. Elmwood Springs was as flat as the world’s largest pancake and inland.

Inland. She had a brainstorm. Why not capitalize on just that, Elmwood Springs right smack in the middle of the country. After all, they were not too far north, not too far south, east or west. And if you dropped New Mexico and Nevada, which you could because they were mostly desert, then Elmwood Springs was truly sitting right smack-dab in the middle of the country. Everybody said that if you climbed high enough you could see into Kentucky, Illinois, Indiana, Tennessee, Mississippi, Arkansas, and all the way down to Iowa.

And so it was voted on. George Crawford painted the sign and on May 22 the committee held the sign unveiling and applauded. There it was for all the world that passed by on the interstate:

NEXT EXIT ELMWOOD SPRINGS, MISSOURI, [BR /]VOTED THE MOST MIDDLE TOWN IN AMERICA

Not a single car turned off the road because of it, but the town felt better.

The Gospel World

O
NE AFTERNOON
Mrs. Pike of Spartanburg, South Carolina, received a surprise visit from her old friend Minnie Oatman, who was passing through on her way to join the group for a sacred-music festival in Dadeville. Minnie was in the living room, holding forth about the state of her health and the state of the gospel music world. “You know, I was laid up for four months a while back.”

“Yes, I heard you were,” said Mrs. Pike with concern.

“But as soon as I got over my heart attack I get on a plane and go on up to Detroit to join the family and, honey, I did not get back a minute too soon. While I was laid up the boys and that fool Emmett went out and got themselves a manager. I look up and here they come, wearing them tight little pants and skinny little neckties and long sideburns and pencil-thin black mustaches with their hair all combed way up in slick pompadours on the top of their heads and the worst of it was
they
thought they looked good. I said, ‘You boys is just one step away from show business and if your daddy could see you he’d roll over in his grave.’ Oh, I was fit to be tied and I can’t blame Beatrice, she can’t see what they had on. Anyhow, I ran that manager off. But you know, I worry to death about how gospel has just gone commercial. I think it all started when the Oak Ridge Boys let their hair grow long and went country. And now lots of these boys have turned country trying to make a fast buck. I’m scared Vernon is gonna run off to Nashville for good and start popping those pep pills with the rest of them. Bervin got hisself a new wife and is threatening to run off and be an Amway salesman and if he does there won’t be anybody left to sing tenor.” She took a swig of her iced tea. “I had hoped to bring Betty Raye’s two boys into the family group someday but that’s not gonna work out. Neither one of them can carry a tune.” She heaved a sigh and looked away, baffled. “I just don’t understand it. Both of them tone-deaf, with me and Ferris for grandparents.”