“It’s the Centennial Celebration,” Grandma said. “We’re all going back to the old days and the old ways for a week.”
“Grandma,” I said, “you never gave up any of the old ways.”
“The years went by, and Mary Alice and I grew up, slower than we wanted to, faster than we realized. Another war came, World War II, and I wanted to get in it. The war looked like my chance to realize my old dream of flying.
“I was thirteen at last, so I’d thank you to call me Joe, not Joey, and I walked a few strides ahead of Mary Alice.
For one thing, she’d been taking dancing lessons all year and never went anywhere without her tap shoes in a drawstring bag.”
“Then I knew we were getting to Grandma’s town. It was sound asleep in the hour before dawn. We slowed past the depot, and now we were coming to Grandma’s, the last house in town. It was lit up like a jack-o’-lantern.”
“What do you want to learn to drive for anyway?” she said. “Don’t you go around Chicago in taxicabs and trolleys?”
I couldn’t explain it to Grandma. I was getting too old to be a boy, and driving meant you were a man. Something like that. ”
“Grandma’s house was the last one in town. Next to the row of glads was a woven-wire fence, and on the other side of that a cornfield. On the first nights I’d always lie up in bed, listening to the husky whisper of the dry August corn in the fields. Then on the second night I wouldn’t hear anything.”
“The Coffee Pot was where people went to loaf, talk tall, and swap gossip. Mary Alice and I were of some interest when we dropped by because we were kin of Mrs. Dowdel’s, who never set foot in the place. She said she liked to keep herself to herself, which was uphill work in a town like that.”
“Mary Alice turned back. “You look good,” she said. “The hat’s dumb, but you look good.”
“So do you.” Though I’d never noticed before, Mary Alice was going to be quite a nice-looking girl. I supposed boys would be hanging around her pretty soon. It was a thought I’d never had.”
“Got a new pet?” I inquired.
“Chicago people have pets,” she said. “But there’s a new litter living down in the cobhouse now, and I let ‘em. They keep down the vermin. Don’t need all of them though.”
“You had to study hard to see any expression at all, but it was a look I was coming to know. She appeared pretty satisfied at the way things had turned out. And she’d returned law and order to the town she claimed she didn’t give two hoots about.”