Auntie Mae’s Various Ramblings on Life in a Small Town

Ida Mae Nowes

Nubbins Special Correspondent

I LOVE AUTUMN…THE SPICY SCENT OF LEAVES LETTING GO, THE COOL DRY AIR, THE HARVEST MOON SHINING LIKE A CANDY COIN UP IN THE SKY. SPRING IS EXUBERANT WITH THE ZING OF YOUTH, BUT AUTUMN IS BITTERSWEET, BEST APPRECIATED BY THOSE WHO’VE EXPERIENCED SOME OF THE WOUNDS OF THE WORLD AND LIVED TO TELL THE TALE.

Not that I’ve had much time to enjoy the season, what with all my usual commitments and my blasted wedding plans. Oh, I’m excited about it and all that, but there’s definitely a part of me that looks forward to the day I can sit on the couch with Merl and look at the wedding photo album, saying “What a nice day that was, and aren’t we glad it’s over?”

We set March 25th as the date. It would have been nice to have it in the fall, but we couldn’t get our act together quickly enough. And, in spite of the little jab I just made at the season of youth, the first weekend of spring seems like an appropriate time to start a new phase of your life – even if you are in your 60s.

The friends I walk with every week noticed how busy I was and demanded I give it up for a day and go with them to the Blevins Autumn Festival and Carnival. I’m not much for carnivals, but it was a gorgeous fall day, so I went along for the apple cider, the batontwirling, and the crafts made from corn shucks and gourds.

There were five of us: me, Roberta, Myrtle, Grace, and Pearl. The only one missing was Pepper, who had to work at the Taylorsville Family Services Agency.

“Why does Pepper have to work on a Saturday?” I asked.

“She said they’re having some kind of special event getting people signed up for Christmas Help Baskets, or something like that,” said Pearl. “She’s been working an awful lot lately. She seems a bit stressed out.”

“I have so much admiration for social workers,” said Myrtle, eyeing a shiny red pyramid of candied apples. “They do so much for other people. You’d never catch me being that nice.”

“Well, thank goodness we have them,” said Grace, gently steering Myrtle away from the apples. “Let’s just hope Pepper takes care of herself as well as she does everyone else.”

“Speaking of being taken care of, weren’t your children in town this week?” Roberta asked Myrtle.

Myrtle snorted, “You should have started that question with ‘Speaking of not being nice …’”

“Oh, dear,” I said. “I hope they aren’t still nagging you about selling the house and moving into a …” I paused.

“Whatever you call it – retirement home, assisted living, golden years facility, it’s still for old people, and I’m not old,” Myrtle huffed.

“Of course we aren’t,” said Grace (the oldest in the group), but it was followed by an awkward silence as we squeezed between a crowd of tattooed, rainbowhaired teenagers.

“Okay, then,” said Roberta, suddenly stopping in front of the Wild Boar’s Breath roller coaster and putting her hands on her hips. “If we’re not old, let’s prove it. Who’s going with me on the Boar’s Breath?”

I gulped. I used to love roller coasters, but it had been a long time since I’d been on one, and I didn’t have much inclination to do so now. Especially the Boar’s Breath, which turned you upside down several times while hurtling you through a ring of fire. I looked at the other women, all four of whom were staring up at the Boar, listening to the screams emanating from the top.

“I’m in,” said Myrtle defiantly, and marched toward the ticket counter. Roberta followed her, turning around and baiting us, “Ladies?”

Pearl looked at me and Grace. “We don’t have to succumb to peer pressure, you know.”

But Grace surprised us both by grinning and saying, “I know, but I want to!” and ran off.

Pearl and I looked at each other. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said, and with a shrug we headed for the ticket booth.

Did that ride scare the molasses out of me? Absolutely. Did I scream out loud? Like a banshee. Did my brain rattle around my skull for five minutes after I got off? Actually, I think it’s still rattling a little.

Would I do it again? Very unlikely. But after we got off the Boar’s Breath, all five us giggled and patted each other on the back and felt younger than we had in a long time. It’s been fodder for conversation for days, and Pepper was mighty jealous she missed it. It was one of those things in life that just about killed me but it didn’t. Guess sometimes you just have to hurl yourself through the ring of fire to see what’s on the other side.