Henderson daily dispatch. (Henderson, N.C.) 1914-1995, 1937-11-29
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! chocolate, OF white with coconu
And she ate them herself. sitting
at the end of the table in her pink
dress and with her pink checks.
matching the roses of the bowl.
Because death stalked under
that roof, swung back once more
to the things 1 had forgotten.
Forced to face future without
my mother, I asked myself again
questions about eternity. When
the breath left that frail body,
would the spirit live on and on, as
my father believed?
Yet 1 did not want to think of
death. I wanted to drink of life
to share with Mimi youth and joy,
all vividness of experience. I felt
that every moment away from her
was a lost moment; that even now
she might be drifting toward some
destiny which would shut me out.
I wrote her long letters of. elo-
quence and entreaty. If she would
Only-wait.
Her notes in reply were brief.
She had nothing to promise. And
gradually I lost the assurance
which had come to me in that one
moment of her surrender. I grew
depressed, wishing to escape from
among the shadows into some
space illumined by hope and hap
piness.
Every day my mother was grow
ing weaker. When the pain was
not too great, she liked to; have
me sit beside her and talk to her
of my future.
what are you going to do with
your life, Jerry?"
II should like to write, mother
She pondered that. What kind
of writing?"
Books"
What L really wanted was to
write plays. But I should never
have dreamed Of telling her. Nor
that an almost finished manuscript
of one was at that moment in my
desk upstairs. To my mother the
theater was place Of evil influ-
ences. She would have been
shocked and startled to know Of
my ambitions. So I did not tell
her. ,.,
Her bright, pain-filled eyes were
upon me. II wish you might have
preached like your father"
81 shall never be as good as my
father.
"You mustn't say that. He was
a boy like you when I met him,
not yet having found the worlds
need Of him. I felt that he could
do bigger things he has done
them. hope that you may meet
woman some day, Jerry, who will
bring the wish for bigger things
into your life"
had met the woman. But I
kept that to myself The big
things to which I aspired would
have seemed small in my mothers
eyes. To write play? To marry
Mimi? To be lord of my own
wide acres? She would have,
blown all these ambitions away
with a puff of her breath. To
know the Lord and serve him. All
else counted as nothing in the sum
of her hopes for me.
So it was, as always, to my
father rather than to my mother
that poured out my heart. I told.
him first of the manuscript in my,
desk.
I'D like to read it to you. L
didn't do it alone; Lionel Clark and
I are collaborating"
Bring it down."
I was glad to do it, and I read
it to him as we sat under, q big
maple tree in the front Of thei
house. The sun was setting as Il
finished, and as looked up, 1 saw
that my fathers gaze was on the
luminous sky where two golden
clouds foated in an almost breath
less clearness.
There's talent there. And your
theme is big. Fix your eyes. on
the stars, Jerry. You can't go far.
wrong if you do that"
Yet I knew that he had fixed.
his eyes on the stars, and to what;
had it brought him? Poverty
this bare parsonage lonely old
age. when my mother. left hirn.
Never would I set my feet in such
a path-never, never, neverj
ITO Ro