SOOTY

This story is true, though in today’s drive up window world it may be hard to believe that people like the one’s in this story really existed.

In the nineteen fifties, my family lived in Natick, Massachusetts. We lived in a little house on the shores of Jennings Pond. Neighbors in those days were mostly friendly, but one pair of neighbors who stand out in my mind were the Flannerys. My parents were good friends with Jack and Blanche. They were older than my parents and I wouldn't call them "close friends" because they seldom invited anyone into their home.

They were hard drinkers, when they drank, but not in the bad sense of the term. To me, they were the nicest people I may have ever known. Jack was a retired hard-working railroad man. I remember him and his distinctively deep raspy voice. He was a tall, medium-built man with gray hair. I never saw him without his old beat-up stained railroad hat and the ever-present red rag hanging from the right rear pocket of his worn-out coveralls.

 

His love and extreme skill for farming, gardening and growing things is what impressed me the most about him. He grew every kind of fruit and vegetable I can think of and all on his relatively small piece of property. Old Jack grew apple trees, peach trees, a huge cherry tree and next to his garden, was what appeared to be one large thick grape vine that covered a strong wood frame that was large enough to park a car inside. It was made out of sturdy four by fours. Where he grew three verities of grapes,his white grapes on one end, red grapes in the middle and blue on the far end.

 

In the shade of it's interior, Jack set up a medium-size picnic table that he built himself. It had two bench seats set up, upon which he could escape the hot sun. He even had a small stainless steel sink with running water fed by a garden hose where he would wash his freshly picked vegetables.

 

On the opposite side of the grapevine was his large, impressive, well-kept vegetable garden. (God, I wish I’d taken some pictures, it was so beautiful) He also grew strawberries and raspberry bushes that the small birds used as a refuge. Its interior was alive with small birds of different verities. Old Mr. Flannery was the one who introduced me to the knowledge that the mint flavor in my chewing gum came from the leaves of this small plant. One day when I was visiting, Old Jack handed me a small leaf and said, "here Pauley, chew on this and tell me what you think?” When Jack saw me hesitate, he added, “They're really good!"... “back in the old days folks called this Indian candy” Jack added.and he popped one in his mouth and began chewing. I trusted Old Jack without question and popped the small leave into my mouth. When I tasted the mint, I felt as if I had discovered something no other kid in the neighborhood knew.

 

Then the letdown, Jack made me pledge not to tell the other kids in the neighborhood. He warned me that if I did they would come, and pick all his mint plants to the ground and that would leave none for me! Keeping that pledge was like having an itch that I couldn't reach. It killed me; I was dying to tell every kid I knew the little something that I assumed they did not know. Mrs. Flannery once gave me a glass of ice tea with some of those mint leaves crushed up in it and it was the best ice tea I ever tasted.

 

  By July the Flannery's entire property looked like something out of a hobbits landscape, every thing was covered in green. His wife Blanche was one of the nicest ladies I ever met. She planted flowers everywhere. Blanche was petite, her long thick white hair had occasional streaks of black; she wore bangs in the front and the rest was all pulled back into a ponytail that she tied with a huge, typically black or red ribbon. She constantly wore bright red lipstick. Her heavy smoking contributed much to her deep heavy raspy voice.

 

Her overbite with receding gums made her tobacco-stained teeth look longer than normal, which often caused me to catch myself staring. She seemed to be favor wearing black slacks with a brightly colored printed blouse. She had small feet and her shoes looked like they were little girl shoes.

 

Whenever she would hold something up to show me I couldn't help but notice her heavily stained fingers from all those cigarettes. I never did see Jack smoke. She once told me that Jack and her had a daughter, though I never saw her or was ever shown any photos of her. I was never invited into the house but I noticed from outside that there were real butterflies pined to her curtains. I asked her "are those real Butterflies?" "Yes they are," she said. I asked, "Where did you get them"? "I catch them in the garden" I couldn't help but feel bad for all those creatures and to think, what a shame to kill all those beautiful Butterflies.

 

 My younger brother Drew once told me the story about how Mrs. Flannery invited him into the house on one occasion and gave him a tour and even showed him the upstairs. All the neighbors thought that the Flannerys did not invite people in because the house was a mess. But Drew told me the house was kept like a museum, all nice and clean. Drew's hair was very light and very curly blond and may have reminded Blanche of her daughter in some way? Drew later told me that Mrs. Flannery showed him their daughter's bedroom.

 

 "Where is she?" Drew asked.  "Away in school" Blanche replied.  But Drew said, judging from the smell of the modest size room it had not been occupied for a long time. Drew was amazed at all the cool stuff in that room, though Drew was young, he instantly surmised that Mrs. Flannery's daughter must have died because the room possessed all the signs of a shrine. There were all kinds of toys, knickknacks, stuffed animals and crayon drawings and rubbings fastened with thumbtacks on the walls. All little girl stuff, nothing to indicate a teenage girl ever had occupied this bedroom.

 Mrs. Flannery then asked Drew, "If this was your room, Andrew, what would you like the most about it?" Unaware of the reason for such a question, Drew carefully scanned around the room and saw a scruffy looking, very used beat up little teddy bear lying on the bed. Unsure why Mrs. Flannery would ask such a peculiar question he hesitated and studied her for a moment. Once he realized that she was scanning the room with him and not particularly looking at him, he relaxed and he pointed out the Teddy bear. Mrs. Flannery's lips formed and instant smile as if she knew what he would choose. Then she looked at Drew with a half smile, she walked slowly over next to the side of bed, she stood for a moment as though she were going to pray or maybe she was trying to make up her mind about breaking a promise to herself, never to move anything since that tragic last day?

 

 Drew heard her take a deep breath, she bent down and picked up the bear, she held it for what seemed like a long time, long enough for Drew to notice the tiny dust particles stirring in the beams of sunlight coming through the window. Dust that had been disturbed after she had picked up the bear which must have been laying there for who knows how long? The dust particles swirled and dancing around. Blanche stared into the worn little face, then she broke her silence, her deep voice cracking, "he was her favorite, that's why he's so beat up" she then turned her back toward Drew facing the window and paused.

 

Regaining her composer, "she played with him all the time"... Drew could hear her swallow. "His name is, Sooty, they were inseparable, I think she would want him to be played with again, after all, that's what he's for isn't he?" Then she turned her head and looked at Drew with a smile on her face, her eyes were welled in tears as she turned and walked slowly toward Drew from the other side of the bed. Then she handed the bear to him. "Take good care of him won't you" "Oh, I will Mrs. Flannery. Thank you".

 

 Blanche didn't know it then but that little Teddy bear would become a treasure to my brother, not simply because Blanche gave it to him but because Drew knew how hard it was for her to let go and what it meant to her.

Drew literally adopted "Sooty" the dusty, little worn-out bear. Drew kept his word and loved that little Teddy bear. It became a part of our family throughout our childhood. Drew is now in his late fifties and still has a teddy bear named Sooty to this day. Sadly the original Sooty was lost in a fire. Blanche also gave Drew a pencil box that day that looked like a small golf bag, the plastic top cover looked like there were golf clubs sticking out of it when the top was on.

 

Jack Flannery would sometimes allow a few of us neighborhood kids to pick his apples and peaches but his one rule was we must ask first. So whenever we wanted a couple apples or peaches we would either look for him in his yard or knock on his door. Still, sometimes if Jack was not there we could not resist the thrill of sneaking up on his garden or grape vines and taking just enough so it would go unnoticed.

 

Jack and Blanche were really good people and great neighbors. It's hard to find people like them in today's drive up window world; most people today are living too fast, they don't even know about Roses, let alone take the time to smell em. It seems the more intelligent the human race believes it self to be the more impaired it is too important elements of life. People like the Flannery's are going extinct. In today's world trust in your neighbor can be a risky business at best. Oh...Happy New Year.

Reviews

[Jack Dawkins]

Paul, I want to thank you for that great story. It touched me on so many levels. I too am a child of the fifties on the outskirts of a small city that was built mainly to provide housing for railroad workers. Hard drinkers were plentiful back then and some not as plesent as Jack and Blanche. I can picture them though, your descriptions etched them in my mind because I knew people like them. The part about Sooty, Blanche and you brother was like I was standing there witnessing it unfold. Kudo's!

[Paul McCall]

Thank you Jack for your kind critique, the 1950’s were truly the good old days. I miss the way life was back then deeply. The story happens to be true and is part of a book I am working on. Please feel free to share it with anyone you think may appreciate the old days. Paul

[Paul McCall]

Hello Jack, Wow! It’s been about one year, maybe more since I last was on this sight. I have been working on an autobiography and two other projects I have in the works. Just wanted to say hi and hope I found you in good health?
Paul

[Paul McCall]

Thank you Sam, this is a true story and I want the world to know people like the Flannery’s need to be remembered.
I thank you Sir.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you, Paul. I often think how sad it is that fine people pass from this world and are forgotten. Because of this sweet story, I now know the Flannerys and what gems they were.