“I was thirty-two years old when Albert was born. And you never saw a happier daddy than Cleo Threadgoode.
“Albert was a big baby. He weighed twelve and a half pounds. We were still living at the big house at the time, and Momma Threadgoode and Sipsey were upstairs with me and Cleo was downstairs in the kitchen with everybody else, waiting. That afternoon, Idgie and Ruth came over from the cafe and Idgie brought a bottle of Wild Turkey whiskey and was sneaking it to Cleo in a teacup to help calm him down. That was the only time I know of that Cleo took a drink. Idgie said she knew just how he felt. She had been through the same thing when Ruth had her baby.
“They said when Sipsey handed Albert to Cleo for the first time, he just burst into tears. It wasn’t until later that we found out there was anything the matter.
“We noticed that the baby was having such a hard time sitting up. He’d try so hard, then he’d just topple over. And he didn’t walk until he was twenty-one months old. We took him to all the doctors, all over Birmingham, and they didn’t know what the trouble was. Finally, Cleo said that he thought he ought to carry Albert up to the Mayo Clinic, to see if there wasn’t something that could be done. I dressed him in his navy suit and his little cap, and I remember it was a cold, wet day in January, and when Cleo and the baby got on the train and it pulled out, little Albert turned around in Cleo’s arms, looking for me.
“It hurt me so to see them go. When I walked home I felt like somebody had just pulled the very heart out of me. They kept Albert up there for three weeks, giving him test after test, and I prayed every minute they were gone, ‘Please, God, don’t let them find anything wrong with my baby.’
“When Cleo and Albert came back home, the first day, Cleo didn’t say a word to me about what they found out, and I didn’t ask. I guess I didn’t want to know. He brought me the cutest picture that he had made up there in a penny arcade of he and Albert sitting on a half moon, with stars in the background. I still have that picture on my dresser and I wouldn’t take a million dollars for it.
“It wasn’t until after supper, when he sat me down on the sofa. He held my hand and said, ‘Momma, I want you to be brave.’ And I felt my heart drop to my knees. He told me that the doctors found out that our baby suffered a brain hemorrhage at birth. I asked him, ‘Is he gonna die?’ Cleo said, ‘Oh no, honey, he’s physically as healthy as he can be. They checked him from top to bottom.’ When I heard that I felt as if a hundred-pound weight had been lifted off my chest. I said, ‘Thank God,’ and got up, but Cleo said, ‘Now, wait a minute, honey, there’s something else you have to know.’ I told him that as long as the baby was healthy, I didn’t care about anything else. He made me sit back down and he said, ‘Now, Momma, this is something very serious that you and I are going to have to discuss.’ Then he went on to tell me that the doctors up to the clinic said, although Albert may very well be physically sound and live a long and healthy life, that most likely he will never develop mentally past the age of four or five years. That he would remain a child all his life. And sometimes the burden of having a child like that, one that required constant attention, was too great. Cleo said that there are special places that … I stopped him right in midsentence. ‘Burden!’ I said. ‘How could that precious, sweet baby ever be a burden?’ How could anybody ever think such a thing? Why, from the minute he was born, Albert was the joy of my life. There wasn’t a purer soul that ever lived on this earth. And years later, whenever I would get to feeling a little down, I would just look at Albert. I had to work every day of my life to be good, and it was just a natural thing with him. He never had an unkind thought. Didn’t even know the meaning of the word evil.
“A lot of people might have been sad to have a birth-injured child, but I think the good Lord made him like that so he wouldn’t have to suffer. He never even knew there were mean people on this earth. He just loved everybody and everybody loved him. I truly believe in my heart that he was an angel that God sent down to me, and sometimes I cain’t wait to get to heaven to see him again. He was my pal, and I miss him … especially at Easter.” Mrs. Threadgoode looked down at her hands.
“Well, now that it looks like I’m gonna be here for a little while yet, I’ve been thinking about that picture I have in my bedroom at home, of that Indian maiden paddling her canoe down the river in the moonlight. She’s fully clothed, so I’m gonna see if Norris will go over and bring it to me whenever he gets the chance.”
Mrs. Threadgoode pulled something out of the Cracker Jack box and all of a sudden her eyes lit up. “Oh Evelyn, look! Here’s my prize. It’s a little miniature chicken … just what I like!” and she held it out for her friend to see.
DECEMBER 30, 1939
Religious Sewing Machines a Fraud
The man that was in town a couple of weeks ago, selling those religious sewing machines that were supposed to heal you as you sewed, was arrested in Birmingham. It seems that the machines were not from France, but were made outside of Chattanooga, Tennessee, and were not religious at all. Biddie Louise Otis is very upset, because she thought the one she bought had helped her arthritis a lot.
Whistle Stop’s Boy Scouts, Duane Glass and Vernon Hadley, all received their merit badges, and Bobby Lee Scroggins moved up to Eagle Scout. Scout leader Julian Threadgoode treated them to a visit to the iron statue of Vulcan, over in Birmingham, Atop Red Mountain.…
Julian said that the statue of Vulcan is so big that a man can stand inside of his ear.
Who would want to stand in a man’s ear, is my question.
Vesta Adcock had an afternoon party for her Eastern Star ladies, and served petit fours.
By the way, Opal asks that the neighbors not feed her cat, Boots, even though she acts like she’s hungry and begs. She has plenty to eat at home and is on a diet, because the doctor said she was too fat.
… Dot Weems …
P.S. Has anybody seen my other half’s December National Geographic? He claims he lost it somewhere in town and he is having a fit because he hasn’t finished it yet.
JANUARY 8, 1938
Ever since Idgie had put the picture of Miss Fancy the Elephant up at the cafe, Onzell and George’s youngest child, Naughty Bird, had been fascinated. She would beg her daddy to take her to Avondale Park so she could see the elephant; and today, that’s all Naughty Bird had on her mind.
She had been sick for over a month now. Dr. Hadley had just told them that pneumonia had set in, and if they couldn’t get her to eat, he didn’t see how she could live out another week.
Big George was leaning over the bed with an uneaten bowl of oatmeal, pleading with her. “Please, won’t you eat a bite for Poppa? Just one little bite for Poppa, baby. What you want, baby? You want Poppa to get you a sweet kitten?”
Naughty Bird, who was six and weighed only thirty pounds, just lay there, listless, with her eyes glazed over, and shook her head.
“You want Momma to fix you some biscuits?” Onzell said. “You want some biscuits and honey, baby?”
“No ma’am.”
“Miz Idgie and Miz Ruth’s here. They done brung you some candy … won’t you eat a bite?”
The little girl turned her head toward the wall covered with magazine pictures and mumbled something.
Onzell leaned down. “What, baby? You say you want some biscuits?”
Naughty Bird said, weakly, “I wanna see Miz Fancy.”
Onzell turned, with tears in her eyes. “See what I mean, Miz Ruth. She got it in her head to go see that elephant, and ain’t nothin’ else gonna do, and she ain’t gonna eat till she does.”