Part 1: Mama and Gene

Elves Runnin’ Loose in the Kitchen

Listen to the audio narration on YouTube at: https://youtu.be/vM695nj5IWw

In early April 1951, Mama’s younger brother, Gene, who’d be twenty in December, but had looked an’ lived like a grown man since he was fourteen, came for an unexpected visit. Mama was livin’ in Rock Island, workin’ at S.S. Kresge, a five-n-dime type department store that would eventually be called K-Mart. It was the kind of place where the smell of fresh popcorn and penny candy mixed with the sharp tang of shoe polish and new fabric.

Seein’ Gene walk through the doors not long after the breakfast rush took her by surprise. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to put on a fresh apron. She’d been cleanin’ up the mess the men in town made after standin’ in line to get their hands on her home-made blueberry pancakes an’ thick sliced maple bacon. An’ nobody made coffee like Mama. Her secret was addin’ just a bit of butter an’ a pinch of salt to the fresh grounds before perkin’. She had regulars who came in for breakfast, as much for the coffee as for her company.

“Gene! What in the world are you doin’ here?” she called, her voice pitched between shock and curiosity.

Gene didn’t answer right away. He just nodded toward her boss, Elton Fawlks, who sat at the end of the counter drinkin’ a cup of Mama’s brew. Hirin’ Darline Barnhart to manage his lunch counter had been one of the best moves he made since bein’ promoted to store manager three years earlier. She always made him look good. Didn’t hurt that she looked so damn good doin’ it either. Profits had never been better.

“Think you could get off early?” Gene asked, his voice lower than she expected. It wasn’t like Gene to dance around his words, and the look in his eye told Mama all she needed to know. This was serious business. The past six months Gene had been livin’ in Grinnell with their mother an’ stepfather, Martin Hol. That was a good two-and-a-half-hour drive on a sunny day. An’ this had not been one of those.

Overnight, sleet an’ freezin’ rain hammered the roads, leavin’ slick ribbons of ice even after the sun came up. Mama slid her way into work that mornin’ an’ she figured it must’ve been worse in Grinnell, where winter always had a meaner bite. And yet, here Gene was, standin’ across the counter, his hair wet from the thawed frost, his coat carryin’ the damp, gritty scent of a long road behind him.

“You drove all that way in this weather?” Mama asked, already knowin’ the answer. Gene just shrugged, as if that was beside the point.

“You could say it’s been weighin’ on me,” he said, his hand runnin’ over the back of his neck like he was tryin’ to rub away whatever thoughts were pressin’ on him.

Mama’s stomach tightened, but tryin’ to stay calm, she was determined she wouldn’t make too much of whatever Gene wanted to tell her. If someone was dead, she’d know by now. That couldn’t be it. She told herself this over an’ over, even though her stomach was churnin’.

Mama had been dreamin’ lately, an’ her dreams were never wrong. She didn’t have a word for ‘em back then, not precognitive or clairvoyant, like folks might say now, but she knew what they meant.

She never liked dreamin’ ‘cause they never seemed to bring good news, just a warnin’ that she needed to prepare for somethin’. Whatever Gene was carryin’, she figured it might be the thing her dreams had been tryin’ to tell her.

“Come back at 4:30 when I get off, an’ you can follow me home,” she told him, her voice steady even though she was already countin’ the hours in her head.

Mama managed the lunch counter an’ the soda fountain at Kresge’s from seven in the mornin’, when the doors opened for breakfast, ‘til they closed at three thirty in the afternoon, forty-five minutes after the high school let out. That last rush of teenagers was nothin’ but chaos with milkshakes, french fries, an’ laughter loud enough to rattle the chrome stools at the counter. Her shift ended at 4:30, after she wiped down the last sticky table an’ locked the till.

Walkin’ into the back room where the employee lockers lined the wall, she slid the key, danglin’ on a chain from her waist, into the lock an’ swung the metal door open. She pulled off her apron and tossed it in the basket in the corner, where the laundry lady upstairs would pick it up. From the locker, she grabbed her hip-length swing coat, soft and familiar, and wrapped it around her.

Tonight, she lingered a moment longer, takin’ her time as she slipped her arms into the sleeves and adjusted the collar. She knew, deep down, that ever’thing was about to change. Sometimes, her ability to feel into the future, if not actually see it, felt more like a curse than a blessin’.

By 5:00 Mama was sittin’ at her kitchen table, her coat hangin’ on the rack by the door an’ her hands wrapped tight around her coffee cup. Gene sat across from her, silent. The only sound was the tick of the wall clock, each second draggin’ on longer than the last.

Bunnie an’ Bonnie were downstairs with Willie Mae, the sweet old colored lady who took care of ‘em while Mama worked. Willie Mae had supper ready for the girls an’ would get ‘em bathed before she brought ‘em back home, so Mama an’ Gene could have some time alone.

Mama didn’t know what she’d have done without Willie Mae. When she had to take an apartment in the colored side of town, it was a leap into the unknown. Mama hadn’t had much choice, an’ Barney didn’t make things any better. Money was tight an’ she hadn’t known what to expect when she took this place. Fear of judgment and shame had gnawed at her, but those fears faded quickly.

Mama couldn’t have landed in a better place if she’d been the richest woman in town. The folks here had hearts bigger’n their pockets, and their kindness got her through some of the darkest days. They didn’t just help her through the divorce, they helped her believe in herself again. Willie Mae especially. Her gentle hands and steady presence were a godsend, not just for the girls but for Mama, too.

“Alright, Gene. I’m listening. What’s so important that you had to come all the way from Grinnell to tell me about it? You mighta just called, you know.” Mama tried to sound casual, but her voice was tighter’n she meant it to be.

Workin’ at the Greenfield Farm Co-op with Darrell since the start of the war, she never thought Gene would come back to Grinnell.

In 1942, men in farmin’ towns had gone off to live in army barracks and learn to fight Nazis. It was slim pickins in those days when it came to findin’ strong men who could do the work, so the co-op built their own barracks and started hirin’ teenagers. Gene an’ Darrell had jumped at the chance to quit school and start work instead.

That was nearly ten years past. Then six months ago Gene showed up on their Mama and Martins doorstep sayin’ he wanted to come home. She never knew why he’d made that decision, but she thought she was gonna hear about it now.

Gene leaned in closer, his elbows on the table, like he was gonna spill a secret in a room full of strangers. His voice dropped low, barely louder than the tick of the clock. “You remember Darrell’s oldest sister, Mags?”

Mama paused, her brow furrowin’ as she searched her memory. She couldn’t place the name at first, and she told him so.

Gene stopped short realizin’ he had used the name only he called her. Ever’body else knew her as Maggie or Magdalena.

“I mean Maggie. You remember? Darrell’s sister Magdalena?”

“It’s been a while, but I know who you mean,” she said slowly. Her mind drifted back to that night six years ago, the one she hadn’t thought about in ages, but would not forget.

“We met at the county fair the night you an’ Darrell disappeared. You were supposed to meet Barney an’ me at the main gate at 10 o’clock. It was nearly midnight before I found you two in the auction barn playin’ cards an’ takin’ money from people who shoulda known better.”

Gene laughed thinkin’ back on what he’d done, his deep blue eyes sparklin’. Mama tried to stay stern, but her voice softened as the past tugged at her. “You scared me to death, Gene. It wasn’t funny.”

Still, the corners of her mouth were already curlin’ into a smile, even as she tried to scold the handsome boy sittin’ across from her. “You always did whatever you pleased, an’ it never seemed to catch up with you, either. The rest of us can’t get away with a gall-durn thing, but you? You never have to pay the piper.”

The sparkle in his eyes dimmed a little when she said that last bit, but she didn’t notice the change, not then anyway.

You might think Mama was about to get mad, but instead, she threw her head back an’ laughed out loud. Her brother joined in, their laughter fillin’ the room as the past rose up between ‘em, as vivid as if it’d happened yesterday.

“Barney was takin’ me to The Powshiek County fair to celebrate my seventeenth birthday. You were thirteen goin’ on thirty-one an’ determined to go along.” Mama mused.

“I was a brat, right?” he admitted, leanin’ back in his chair as his cheeks went pink. “To say the least!” Mama shot back, her brow furrowin’ like she was about to scold him, but her smile never faded. Lookin’ at her little brother had that affect.

No matter how much trouble he caused or how grown he pretended to be, there was just somethin’ about this kid.

Their shared memory from 1944 opened wide, pullin’ ‘em back to what felt like a much simpler time.

---

Gene wasn’t fourteen yet, but he already thought he was grown. Their mama figured it’d be a good idea for him to tag along with his older sister an’ this new fella who’d been hangin’ around since Darlene met him at the Maid-Rite stand. Said he could “keep an eye on things.” What a joke that turned out to be.

When Granny shoved a whole dollar in Gene’s pocket to pay for food an’ rides, Mama knew two things for sure: there’d be no tellin’ that boy to stay home, an’ no keepin’ him next to her once they got to the fair.

An’ sure enough, as soon as they got there that afternoon, Gene took off like a shot with Darrell Jensen, the boy he’d been thick as thieves with since they were toddlers. The two of ‘em had met at the Livestock Auction in Grinnell, back when they were still learnin’ to walk, and they hadn’t parted ways since.

“You meet us back here at the gate at 10 o’clock, Gene! You hear me?” Mama yelled after him, her hands on her hips as he ran off with his friend an’ disappeared into the crowd.

Gene didn’t stop, didn’t turn around, just threw his hand up in the air, signalin’ he’d heard. That was good enough for Mama. She nodded to herself, feelin’ satisfied, least for the moment.

By 9:00, at the end of a day filled with carnival food, rides, an’ side shows, Barney guided Mama toward the Ferris wheel. It would be their last ride of the night.

As they approached John Andrews, the ride operator, Barney leaned in close an’ slipped a fifty-cent piece into his hand. “Give me a minute at the top with my girl ‘fore you bring us down the last time,” he whispered with a wink, his voice low enough for only John to hear. John looked at the coin in his hand then back at Barney, an old friend from way back, an’ nodded his head.

Barney had a plan to take Mama to the top of the world that night an’ kiss her for the first time ever. He could already see it in his mind—the view of the fairgrounds spread out below, the lights blazin’, the music driftin’ up from the bandstand. It felt like the perfect place to make his move. Tonight, he thought, he’d finally get to take a drink.

They were just two ticket holders from the front when Darrell’s older sister found Mama. Steppin’ up to the front of the line she asked, “Are you Gene Smith’s sister? I’m Maggie Phillips. I’m lookin’ for my brother, Darrell. He an’ Gene ran off together hours ago an’ I need to find him. We gotta go home.”

Mama blinked, takin’ in the girl who’d just cut in line without so much as a by-your-leave. Mama knew who Darrell was, but she’d never met this girl. She looked to be near Mama’s age, likely just a few years older. There was a weddin’ band on her left hand, but she had the look of a woman who’d seen more’n her years. Experience hung on her like perfume.

This blonde-haired beauty stood there, her eyes sharp an’ clear, with a look that said she was on a mission an’ wasn’t about to be stopped.

“I’m Darlene. Gene’s gonna meet me at the gate at 10 o’clock. Maybe Darrell will be with him.” Mama offered.

Maggie muttered, “Dammit,” low enough for most not to notice, but Mama’s head snapped up when she caught her swear.

It only took a moment for Mama to size her up. Maggie wasn’t like most girls she knew, an’ Mama kinda liked that about her. There was somethin’ bold and unapologetic about the way she stood there, her hands on her hips like she owned the space.

Well, if you see him, tell him to meet us at the car,” Maggie said, her voice firm like she wasn’t askin’, just tellin’. Mama wasn’t expectin’ what came next. Maggie leaned in an’ started tellin’ the rest of her story, talkin’ like they were already friends.

Mama was taken aback. This kinda thing didn’t happen very often in the part of the world she lived in. Strangers didn’t just walk up an’ start spillin’ their lives like this, but here Maggie was, talkin’ like it was the most natural thing on earth.

“My husband an’ I are leavin’ first thing in the mornin’, headin’ back to St. Pete. That’s in Florida. Walter’s in the Army,” she said, her voice steady but with a flicker of something underneath. “We live down there for now, but when this damn war is over, I guess we’ll be comin’ home.”

“You ever been to Florida?” Mama could tell Maggie didn’t mean for her to answer so she just kept on listenin’.

“I love that place. It’s the warmest piece of calm earth I’ve ever lived on.”

Then, almost like she didn’t mean for Mama to hear, Maggie muttered under her breath, “I’d have us stay down there if I could.”

Mama nodded, keepin’ her face neutral, though the words stuck with her. “I’ll make sure Darrell gets the message if I see him,” she said.

Without another word, Maggie turned on her heel an’ marched off, cuttin’ through the crowd like she owned the whole fairgrounds. Mama watched her go, a tiny smile playin’ at her lips.

“I like that girl,” she thought to herself.

---

Comin’ back to the present at her kitchen table, Mama shook her head and said, “You an’ Darrell were off playin’ poker, tryin’ to give both of your big sisters a heart attack. I didn’t think we were ever gonna find you after you didn’t meet Barney an’ me at the gate like we planned. You know, I could get mad at you all over again right here sittin’ at this table.”

Her smile wasn’t quite as broad as it had been minutes ago. She leaned back slightly, her fingers tappin’ against the edge of her coffee cup. “I met Maggie that one time an’ never saw her again. ‘Course, I know who Darrell is. His grandparents lived in Grinnell, not too far from Dad an’ Jeannette’s place, right?”

Mama rarely spoke about their father an’ the woman he lived with now, but when she did, the hurt in her voice was unmistakable. Smitty, their dad, lived with Jeannette for nearly seven years, shamin’ their family while he begged Granny to give him a divorce. They stayed in Grinnell the whole time, not too far from the rest of the family. It wasn’t until late in 1945, after Granny finally let go of the hope he’d ever come home, that she signed the papers an’ gave Smitty what he wanted.

Mama would never forgive him for what he put their family through. Even after Dickie Lee died, the wound that tore through their family didn’t seem to touch him. Dad just went on like nothin’ had happened, like the world hadn’t cracked wide open.

But Gene always saw their dad as larger’n life. Smitty had a way of commandin’ attention wherever he went, like the rules didn’t apply to him, ‘cause he didn’t care if they did. To Gene, their dad was a mix of hero an’ rebel, the kind of man who knew how to charm a room an’ get away with just about anything.

At the pool hall, Smitty’s world came alive. Gene could see it in the way men tipped their hats an’ laughed at his jokes, or how Jeannette would lean in close to listen, her lipstick bright against the dim, smoky air. Smitty wasn’t just a father in those moments; he was a king holdin’ court, an’ Gene was proud to be his right-hand man.

Their dad’s final goodbyes to Iowa came just after the new year in 1946, when he an’ Jeannette left for California. They stopped in Arizona long enough to get married on January 9. After that, Smitty finally had the good sense to never return to Grinnell. He settled in Los Angeles County, makin’ a livin’ as a house painter.

When he left Iowa, Mama thought she’d never see her dad again. His absence wasn’t new, he’d been gone in every way that mattered for years, but this time, it felt final.

It wouldn’t be.

Listen to the audio narration on YouTube at: https://youtu.be/vM695nj5IWw