Home Town Tales

Frieda Shores

February 10th, 2015

Frieda Shores

hat and gloves

I’m retired from working at Dewers’ high school where I was the assistant to the president. It’s where I met Clara May. We both started on the same day, a number of years ago. I don’t have a town of Dewers pedigree like Clara May but I call it home. Kentucky is where I grew up, in the bottomland of the Cumberland River before the Wolf Creek damn created Lake Cumberland. My hometown of Rowena is now under the lake. The phrase, you can never go home again is literally true for me. I met my husband, John, in Louisville and we moved here to the town of Dewers because of John’s job working for the railroad.

Some would call me a fuddy-duddy. Changes in the way woman dress and an increase in the laxity of manners is dreadful to me. It’s not that I don’t accept change, I do. I like the way I dress and I dislike the changes in style. Besides I’m nearly seventy years old. If I were younger, I might like shorter dresses and hippie styles. Each generation of kids must make their mark somehow. As for me, wearing hats with gloves makes me feel elegant and presentable to anyone.

Clara May says I need to stop drinking the hot fudge milkshakes at Dairy Queen. She thinks I’m overweight. I told her fine, I’ll switch to hot fudge sundaes. So what if I’m a little overweight, the only person who may have a valid complaint is the undertaker, Thomas. He may have to split the back of my blue taffeta dress I’ve chosen for myself when I’m laid out in the coffin. No one will see it.

My favorite color is blue. I always look forward to spring and the smell of lilacs. Purple are my favorite. When I’ve grown weary of winter, I sit in my bay window, close my eyes, and think of lilacs. Just the thought can brighten my gloomiest day. I’ve got to be careful though, I’m prone to graphic dreams. I think they’re a gift. They help me solve crimes with Clara May, that is when she’s willing to listen to me.

Most importantly I’m a devout woman. Clara May and I attend the Methodist Church. Some would call us rabble-rousers. It’s only because Pastor Jenkins is a little too conservative for our way of thinking. I believe in the goodness of each individual and have no use for hellfire and damnation. We are all children of God.