Ida Mae Nowes 

Nubbins Special Correspondent 

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

So have you thought any more about a honeymoon?” Pepper asked me, as I traipsed around Nubbins town square with my regular Walky-Talky group.

“I had a honeymoon,” I responded without slowing down. “One night at the Awenasa Falls State Park Lodge is not a honeymoon,” Roberta said.

“It depends on the night,” I said with a wink, and everyone laughed. “

But seriously – honeymoons are for young people in bikinis, not couples in their 60s with bunions.

Merl and I will take a fun trip one of these days. We just need to figure out when to get it on the schedule.”

“I know you, Ida Mae,” Roberta said. “You’ll never get around to it. You’re too involved with all your volunteer work, and Merl stays busy, too.

These things don’t just fall into your lap, you know. Good things come to people who investigate on the internet and make them happen.”

“I don’t think that’s the way that proverb goes,” I said, a bit snappishly.

“But don’t worry; we’ve got some things cooking.”

But that wasn’t exactly the truth.

Actually, it wasn’t true at all, and I was afraid Roberta might be right, which bothered me. Merl and I had only been married a week or so and we were already back to our busy lives. The wedding was hectic enough.

When in the world would we have time to figure out a trip?

I decided to change the subject.

“Did you hear Liddy’s Jellies and Jams has created some new flavors? ‘Apple chili spice’ was one I heard about. And ‘Honeysuckle wine.’”

“Whoop-te-doo,” said Roberta sarcastically. “How will I ever contain my excitement?”

But Grace seemed interested. “Sounds like Liddy’s is trying to step it up a notch,” she said. “

Of course, nothing beats their old-fashioned strawberry jam, in my opinion.

That little factory in Blevins has continued to do well over the years. I wonder why they’ve decided to shake things up now?”

“Probably the economy,” said Pearl. “Maybe they feel like plain old blackberry and strawberry are boring.

In fact, they’re having a jingle contest to help them advertise their new flavors.” “We should enter it!” Pepper cried. “

What’s the prize?”

“I have no idea,” said Pearl. “But who cares? Let’s think of something.”

We walked on in silence, while the little wheels in our minds cranked around visions of Liddy’s new jams and how to sell them.

“Everything I think of is dumb,” Pearl said.

“Me too,” said Pepper.

“It’s making me hungry,” said Myrtle.

“How about this?” I suddenly said, stopping in my tracks. Not being much of a singer, I croaked out, “Others want what Liddy has, cause Liddy’s jams have got pizzazz -- Liddy’s!” --trying to whoop out the last “Liddy’s” like a yodeler. “

That’s great!” said Pepper. “Why don’t you enter it in the contest?”

“Maybe I will,” I said. “But somebody else will have to sing it.” B

ut I didn’t enter it. As soon as I got home from my walk, I had to get ready for another church meeting, and the jingle flew out of my head.

I’m not much on contests, anyway. I never win them, so what’s the point?

The next several weeks were busy with meetings and church obligations and writing my wildflower column, and Merl had a work trip.

Then one evening Pearl called me up and invited me and Merl over for coffee. “Merl won’t be back for a couple of days, but I’m available,” I said. “We’ll just wait until he gets back,” she said mysteriously. When Merl and I finally made it to her house, I was surprised to find the whole Walky-Talky gang there. Roberta, Pepper, Myrtle, Grace and Pearl were all seated around the dining room table, where a CD player and a large envelope sat perched in the middle.

“What is this? An intervention?” I asked suspiciously.

“Of course not,” Pepper said, waving her hand. “Actually, we have good news!” she continued. “Listen to this,” and she hit the “play” button on the CD player.

Guitars and drums started up, then I heard three voices singing in perfect harmony: “Others want what Liddy has, cause Liddy’s jams have got pizzazz -- Liddy’s!”

Merl and I stood there confused. “You recorded my jingle?” I asked, not understanding. “

Yes!” cried Pepper, jumping up and grabbing the envelope. “We recorded it and submitted it to the contest and you won!”

All the other women clapped. Merl and I continued to stand there, staring.

“We submitted it in your name since you wrote it, and guess what the prize is?!”

She didn’t wait for an answer. “A trip for two to New York City!”

The whole table was up on its feet now clapping and yelling. Merl and I just stood there, trying to drink it in.

“You leave next week!”

“What?” That message finally got through. “We can’t go to New York City next week. That’s just impossible. There are too many things to do.”

“Like what?” Merl said, turning to me and grinning.

“Well …, you know, … all the things … we do.”

But of course I was wrong. Sometimes the right thing to do is to tear up your to-do list and listen to your friends who look out for you.

Big Apple, here we come!