When my mother told me this story it touched my heart, because in a way, it was part of who she was for the rest of her life …
Henrietta, Texas, Summer 1922: My mother, Margaret Hurn, known as Maggie, was six years old, and very excited that Saturday. For the first time, riding down the dirt road in the wagon with her mother and father, Maggie was going to town.
She had a nickel in her hand. She held it tight.
Eight miles seems so little now, for any car can cruise the paved road in just a few minutes. But on that day, on the dirt road in the wagon behind the horse, it took several hours, with the sun high above and dust rising to float in the air behind them, and she was holding that nickel all the way.
She had a plan.
Tutti-Fruity ice cream. That was the plan. A nickel would buy a big double-dip ice-cream cone at the Henrietta drugstore. The soda fountain there had a marble top, and fancy stools that spun around with shiny red seats. Behind the counter, lined up before the huge mirror, was a shelf of colored bottles. Every kind of delight, in town, right there at the soda fountain.
Maggie wanted Tutti-Fruity.
She was shy about going in, but her father said, “Go on,” and gave her a nudge, so she edged slowly through the door. Instantly dismayed because everything was so fancy, she waited, holding her nickel, and before long, the big man behind the counter noticed her and leaned over.
“What would you like, little girl?” he said. Perhaps a bit deaf, he spoke loudly, and it startled Maggie. She cast her eyes down.
“Tutti-Fruity,” she said softly.
“What’s that?” he said. “What would you like?” Maggie felt suddenly dismayed, embarrassed, as if scolded.
“Tutti-Fruity,” she said softly.
“I can’t hear you!” the man said loudly, “What do you want?” A well of tears blurred her vision.
“Tutti-Fruity,” she whispered.
“What?!!” he demanded. “Speak up!”
But now it was too late. Confused, ashamed, she ran crying from the store.
All the way home, on the long journey up the dirt road as the late shadows grew longer across the road, sitting in the wagon, she held the nickel in her hand.
What a writer you are! Love this story…..and especially the ending.
thank you for sharing with us.
What a sad day for your poor little “Maggie” mom. I understand that feeling of intimidation you get when you are very small and you are trying to communicate with a grown up “large” man. Especially if he was half deaf.
Thank you. What a sweet comment. Bless you for your lovely compassion.
Yes. When she told me this story, it touched my heart. Something in it was so very, very close to who she was … for the rest of her life. To this day, I miss her.