A Cure for Dreams by Kaye Gibbons

Author:Kaye Gibbons
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 1990-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

12. A clash of stubborn wills

“SOON I WAS ABSORBED WITH TRUDY WOODLIEF and her situation. I helped convince Gordon Randolph to let her keep the house for a song, and I inspired her to study the first leg of the Gregg course to prepare her, as my mother said, for a brighter day. I knew what she believed about the world, having sat with her many evenings praising Mr. Roosevelt, who we all worshiped all his twelve years, one month, and eight days in office. People can say what they will of Trudy’s mothering, but she rocked her children in the Democratic cradle.

My mother softened and softened on Trudy to the point that she several times invited the children to our home for precious coconut cake, eventually learning to suffer ingratitude. Many times we’d look out of our door and see a clump of children waiting to eat cake when they should’ve been in school, which they attended in fits and starts. I simply can’t name all their names, which are jumbled up with the exceptions of Florence and Barnard and also Bernard, whom my mother refused to call Pee Wee and Buddy.

The children weren’t unschooled from lack of shoes and clothes, though these things were lacking. Trudy simply fell into the sticks getting them all up and dressed in the morning, and even something as easy as throwing a sweet potato into a lunch bucket was a trial for her. She woke up every morning behind from the night before. She performed miracles, by my estimation, surviving days, notwithstanding the fact that she openly refused to knock herself out to the extent of most other rural mothers.

Clean clothes being the greatest obstacle for Trudy, my mother decided that I’d collect their clothes, bring them to our house and help Polly Deal wash and hang the things out, and then cart them back down the hill when they eventually dried. Of course, this was not Polly Deal’s pleasure, but we slipped her additional wages and thus she obliged us.

We didn’t fold, however. We left this for the children as my mother and Polly said this would build their character. But they folded in such a slaphappy manner that I’m sure no progress was made regarding their moral fiber. And then once the clothes were folded, such as they were, there were no drawers to put them in, so they sat around waiting to get dirty on the floor, in corners, all of which was not acceptable to my mother. Thus she sent downhill my father’s chest of drawers, a beautiful piece which had come in the wagon from Kentucky, which Trudy used primarily for stacking clothes on, not in, until the twins came out of the warmer looking for somewhere to sleep. Trudy never said to me, I hope you don’t mind me using these beautiful deep oak drawers as baby beds. When my mother asked me one day how the dresser was working out for the Woodliefs I told her, Fine.

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