Miss
Edith Mae Jones loved beaded earrings, big old
clunky clip-ons which weighed heavy on her ears before the day was over. She was fond of great clumps of plastic or
glass or pearl, all twirled round into little rose or clustery broccoli or
cabbage shapes, clipped onto her ears beneath the sway of her hair. They leaned more to the blue or green shades,
alternating between the days-of-the-week when she wore one of her three
suits---the deep blue shantung with the pale blue piping, the bottle-fly green
with the peplum, and the nice black gabardine one, mostly reserved for special
occasions like funerals and teachers’ meetings in Greenwood or Clarksdale, and the several up-the-ladder
progressions to the yearly Speech Contest in Jackson, for all the state’s
novice speakers and declarers and debaters.
Her blouses ran mostly to those silky-neck-bow things, which she
thought hid the gentle folds beneath her chin, and to big pearl-ball-buttons on
the cuffs. She was a tallish slim
woman, with bouncing salt-and-pepper hair which she dampened and rolled under
onto a Kotex at night to preserve her page-boy, before tying it up into one of
her pastel silk hair nets.
Miss Edith Mae was distinguished from Miss ARDYTH MAE, (the
piano teacher who was married and widowed
with several children grown during the years she “taught music”) by
being an unmarried lady, one of several privileged few who “lived at Mrs. Woods’.” AT as opposed to WITH, for AT pre-supposed a
set fee for room and perhaps board (which was generously provided), for you
could live WITH someone, in your own house or theirs, from girlfriend to
boyfriend to understandin’ to shackin’ to you
know how it is to still at your
Mama’s, without being on your own two feet.
But “living at” was reserved for folks making a living---paying boarders
and roomers and the frequently-passing-through railroad men keeping a few
things in a locker at Miss Florene’s Ho-tel and Caffay between stays. And to live at Mrs. Woods' was to be a part of a very select company---the carefully chosen maiden ladies of the faculty, each proven an agreeable woman of good character and impeccable reputation.
Miss Edith Mae was the English-and-Speech teacher, with long and
numerous orations and poems committed to memory, and a popularity for being on
call as entertainment at Civic Club and Lions’ Club and Shriners, as well as knowing
by heart quite a few gentle, earnest pieces suitable for the tender ears of the
WMU and Missionary Society ladies. No
“THE HIGHWAYMAN” for them, no BLESSED DAMOZEL, no Ophelia, but mostly Helen
Steiner Rice, whom she could quote for any occasion. And of course, she could
whiz right through half the hymnbook from memory, gesturing and declaring every verse of the
good old songs as if they were Dickinson or Donne, and surprising those ladies with the
never-sung verses usually buried in the Broadman/Cokesbury third-verse
wasteland.
She was also liable to launch right into The Cremation of Sam
McGee or Wonderful One-Horse Shay when the company felt right. And she’d even
been featured in Mr. Lydel Sims column for her great way with elocution and
poetry. Miss Edith was in great demand
every year to help choose and rehearse the speeches given by Valedictorians and
Salutatorians all over the county. She
was a smart, well-read medium frog in that tee-ninecy pond, and all her
students adored her.
And once, when she was invited to “do a piece” for the Fourth of
July, she chose to recite the entire four verses of The Star Spangled Banner.
When she began the Oh, Say Can You See, and everybody recognized
the words, a rustle began, as they straggled to their feet all over the
campground. And stayed standing, each
probably wondering when or if they could sit down, or if they should, or was
that only if there was music, or what? As she strode the platform with the aplomb
of Webster and Clay and Holmes, gestured aloft, mimed banner-waving, pressed fervent
hand to heart, they stood respectfully in that July sun, with pride in their
hearts along with a wonder that there were just
so many verses.
When she finished with a triumphant flourish of her right hand
to Heaven, she got the only standing ovation in the town’s history which
STARTED OUT standing up.
