don't say anything more than

don’t say anything more than you have to

“Mama was sick, but my brother Arthur and I got to be in the Great Easter Egg Hunt anyway. Daddy took us after church; we were still in our best clothes. I tried to be careful . .”

“Mrs. Wilson?”

“I tried not to get dirty. They hid the eggs in some of the dirtiest places. I found one in a bird bath. I found the Golden Egg in a tree nearby. Art told Mama he found it, but I found it.”

“Mrs. Wilson?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s time for your medication.”

“Oh. Did you know my Daddy taught me how to swim?”

“That was nice of him. Do you like swimming?”

“Mama outlived Daddy by 30 years or more. She spent so much time sick in bed with us children banned from her room I hardly knew her. Daddy took me out to the lake. We got into his rowboat and he rowed way out onto the lake. I wondered where we would end up. Daddy said, ‘Katie Marie it’s time for you to learn to swim,’ and he dumped me into the water. Then he pretended to row away.”

“That’s certainly either a sink or swim lesson. Did he have to come back for you?”

“No. He yelled at me from the boat. Telling me how to move my arms. My legs.”

“You certainly were a brave little girl, Mrs. Wilson. I’ll be back at three.”

“He was so proud of me. Daddy took me home and we worked in his shop and I helped him make cider. We sat out on the porch together and drank cider for an hour or two. When I stood up to go kiss Mama good night, and my legs were working funny. I thought it was funny and I laughed so hard I fell right down on the porch. Daddy looked a little worried and he told me to go kiss Mama but, ‘be careful and for God’s sake don’t say anything more than you have to.’ I heard her yelling at him later. She said Daddy had gotten me drunk. Said he knew the cider had gone hard. . . . “


“Mrs. Wilson?”

“Mrs. Wilson?”

“I tried to be careful, that dress got dirty anyway.”

“Mrs. Wilson?”

“What?”

“I need to ask you a few questions. Would that be all right?”

“Ask not for whom the bell tolls, the bell tolls. That’s all right. Ask away.”

“Do you know who the current President is, Mrs. Wilson?”

“Did you know that my father was a Methodist Minister? He had a hard time raising us kids with a wife that stayed in bed all the time. President of what?”

"The country. The United States. Do you know who the current President of the United States is?”

“Why do you think I told you Daddy was a Methodist? It’s that shrub man.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Shrub, tree, . . bush. Bush. He’s the third Methodist to become President. Rutherford B. Hayes became the first Methodist president. Daddy always made me learn about the presidents.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“I’m in one of those nursing home places. Never in my life did I think a member of my family would put me here. I thought James loved his mother more than that. I never spent all of my time sick in bed.”

“I’m sure your son didn’t have any other choice, Mrs. Wilson. Do you happen to remember why you’re here?”

“My leg. I fell and broke my hip.”

“Very good. You’re doing very well, Mrs. Wilson. Do you happen to remember what year it is?”

“I fell and broke my hip when I came downstairs to tell Mama that Daddy hadn’t given me any alcohol. I tripped on my nightgown, an oversized, hand-me-down from my sister Louise. I rolled down the stairs. Bump bump bump. What a startle they must have had in the kitchen! At the bottom when I opened my eyes, Mama just looked stern; but Daddy, he looked terrified. He picked me up in his arms and carried me out to the car. I still wore my nightgown. My nightgown. . . where’s my nightgown! Mama will tan my hide if I lose my nightgown!.”

“Shh. Calm down Mrs. Wilson. Anything you were wearing or that came with you is being held for you in a safe place. Nothing will be lost. Now you were telling me about a fall you took when you were a child; do you remember how you broke your hip?”

“My hip. . . I was standing in the kitchen talking with James on the wall phone. Bootle, that damned fool cat of mine, was rubbing against my leg – he wanted some tuna – and I didn’t realize I had wrapped the phone cord around myself. I took a step and the next thing I knew . . bam! I’m flat out on the floor. Couldn’t get up either. Lucky the phone was still in my hand and James was still on the line.”

“And after the hospital, they brought you here. You’re doing fine, Mrs. Wilson. Do you know what year this is?”

“That Golden Egg came with a prize, a gift certificate for a local department store. Daddy told me I’d be able to buy myself a dress, my own dress that wouldn’t be a hand-me-down from Louise. Mama said it had to be used to buy shoes. Daddy took us down and we were fitted for new shoes. He felt bad. He so wanted me to have something special, a prize. He bought me a sweet little ribbon and cameo necklace. He didn’t tell me to keep the necklace a secret from Mama but he did say, ‘for God’s sake don’t say anything more to your mother than you have to.’”

“Mrs. Wilson? The year?”

"don’t say anything more than you have to . . . The year dear? I don’t know. 2000 something, I imagine.”