I had the pleasure of sitting beside Snowdell Holden’s sister, Trudy, at the bean supper Saturday night. Trudy lives in Portland, but spends the summer up to her camp on Scoodic Lake. She’d driven over for the weekend. Like Snowdell, Trudy’s a pistol. Just turned 89, and doesn’t look a day over 79, which is quite a compliment when you’re pushing 90.
Over beans, biscuits, cole slaw, hot dogs, not to mention the mac and cheese that somehow
wandered onto my plate, we got to talking about Trudy’s life, like you do.
Trudy’s a retired nurse, mother of five with eleven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. She’s been a widow for going on twenty years now.
“You must enjoy those great-grandchildren, Trudy,” I says.
“I do, but in limited doses. They tucker me out, and to be honest, a couple of them are real pouters. They get that from Dougie’s side of the family.”
“Well, pouting is better than whining, right?”
“Maybe, but with whining you at least know what’s the matter. I mean, why pout? What’s the point? Except to make everyone one around you miserable.”
“I hear you.”
“There was a time when Dougie was like that, too. Now don’t get me wrong, Ida. Dougie was a good husband. But not at the beginning. When we first got married, he was big into pouting. I could tell something was bothering him, but when I asked, he clammed right up and keep pouting. After about four month of that BS (pardon my French), one morning I came down stairs with my bags packed. I says to him, ‘Look, mister, I can tell something is bothering you, but how am I supposed to know what I’m doing wrong if you won’t tell me? I’m not going to live like this for the rest of my life. We don’t have any kids, so what do you say we cut our losses and call it quits? Now. I’m going home to my family. I suggest you pack your bags and go home to yours.’ And I walked out the door. Just like that. Didn’t even look back.”
“Wow, that was a ballsy move, Trudy!”
“It was a gamble, that’s for sure. But, I just wasn’t willing to live with a pouter.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, Dougie thought things over for a day or two, then he shows up at my parents house and asks if I’d go out to dinner with him. He was looking the worse for wear, and I took pity on him. Over dinner, he told me what I was doing that irritated him and I did the same. And that night I slept over, if you know what I’m saying. I moved back in the next day. From then on, whenever something was bothering one of us, we’d go out to eat and discuss it. Even when the kids were small, we’d get a babysitter and over dinner really hash it out, just the two of us. No distractions.”
“That’s a lesson to all of us, Trudy. How long were you two married, anyways?”
“47 years. We’d just celebrated our 47th when Dougie had his heart attack. I was right there, did CPR and everything, but couldn’t revive him. Once that man made up his mind, there was no turning back. He died right there in my arms.”
“Wow. Nice he didn’t suffer, though.”
“Really. I hope I go as quick. There are some things you want to linger over, like a good meal, but not at the end. Trust me on this, Ida. I was a nurse for thirty years.”
Amazing! The things you learn at the bean supper!
That’s it for now. Catch you on a flip side!
Hear Ida Tell It: Why Pout?
Coming Up This Summer
August 22: The Best of Ida, ACT ONE Summer Festival, 2:00 & 7:30pm, Portsmouth, NH
August 24: The Best of Ida, Celebration Barn Theatre, 7:30pm, South Paris, ME
August 29: The Best of Ida, ACT ONE Summer Festival, 2:00 & 7:30pm, Portsmouth, NH
Check out my full schedule here.
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