Фэнни Флэгг - The Wonder Boy of Whistle Stop

Ruthie says to be sure and sprinkle in some history, and so I will add that when I was a child, the president was Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and I remember listening to him over the radio. One of the great joys of my childhood was listening to the radio and going to the picture show once a week. I was raised during the Great Depression, although it did not affect me in any way that I can remember. Aunt Idgie grew her own vegetables in the lot in back of the cafe, and we always kept plenty of chickens and hogs. I would say the greatest day in history that I personally lived through was VJ Day, 1945. When the news came over the radio, everybody in Whistle Stop went running out into the streets yelling, and banging on pots and pans. And on every train that came through town that day, there were people hanging out of the windows, yelling at the top of their lungs, so happy the war was over and our boys were coming home. The second-best day was probably in July of 1969, seeing our guys land on the moon.

I’ve made some money in my time, but all my life, I’ve had something that no amount of money could buy. I’ve had people who loved me and who I loved right back.

I think that’s about it, unless something noteworthy happens to me in the next few years I have left, which I sincerely doubt, since at seventy-nine, I’m pretty much over the hill.

And so in closing, as the kids say, I am sending a great big shout-out to all the great-grandkids yet to come down the line. It’s too bad you never got to meet me, because I have often been told that I am the cutest old man they ever met and a hell of a lot of fun. So goodbye for now, and here’s wishing you all the good luck you can handle.

S.O.B. (aka Sweet Ol’ Bud)

—

BUD HAD RETIRED from the army a full captain, and he used to joke that he was a vet who was a vet. When he’d first expressed his desire to become a veterinarian, a lot of people had their doubts, but not Peggy, and certainly not his Aunt Idgie. As usual, she had been behind him 100 percent. She’d just said, “You can do it.”

But Bud wasn’t a fool. He knew being a doctor with one arm was not going to be a stroll in the park. Still, it was nothing compared to what others had to deal with. He’d seen it firsthand. In 1945, right after the war, boys had come home with half their faces blown off, or with both arms and legs missing. Some came back suffering from such severe shell shock, they couldn’t stop shaking.

So, as far as he was concerned, missing an arm was sometimes “a pain in the ass” and inconvenient at best. But at least it hadn’t been his right arm, and it was pretty amazing what he could do with one good right arm and his new top-of-the-line artificial arm. When people asked Peggy how he did it, she would say it helped that he had a great sense of humor. Although he was very serious about his work, one of his most charming traits was that he never took himself very seriously. As he often said, “Half an arm is better than half a brain.”

Although Bud couldn’t perform quite as well as other doctors physically, he excelled at diagnostics and treatment options. Consequently, after he left the army he was offered his own clinic in Silver Spring, Maryland. At first, he and Peggy weren’t happy about being so far away from Idgie, but it was a great opportunity. When he called and asked her what she thought, Idgie’d said, “Good for you, Buddy. Sounds like a great deal.” When he had expressed concern about living so far away from her, she just said, “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll always be right here. And who knows, one day I just might show up there and surprise you.” That was Aunt Idgie, all right. She had always been full of surprises.

WHISTLE STOP, ALABAMA

1936

AS USUAL, AS soon as it was spring, six-year-old Buddy Threadgoode, Jr., was running around town barefooted, and this time he stepped on a nail and couldn’t get it out. When he hobbled into the cafe and showed it to his mother and Idgie, Idgie immediately picked him up, threw him over her shoulder, and walked him over to Dr. Hadley’s house. After the doctor had removed the nail, cleaned the wound, and bandaged his foot, Idgie took him home and put him in the back room. Buddy sat in bed with his foot up and read comic books for the rest of the morning, which was okay with him.

Idgie ran back inside the cafe just in time to help with the last of the breakfast rush, and an anxious Ruth wanted to know how Buddy was. Idgie grinned and grabbed an apron. “Just fine. He didn’t even cry. Didn’t make a peep. Doc Hadley said he’d never seen such a brave boy.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He was fine, but I almost fainted when Doc was pulling that nail out. But Buddy did great. I would have yelled my head off.”

Idgie was so proud of Buddy for being so brave that she decided she wanted to do something extra special for him as a reward. Later that afternoon, after the lunch dishes were done, Idgie went to the back room, picked up Buddy’s jacket and hat, and said, “Hey, little man, put these on. We’re going somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Never you mind where. I have something I want to show you.”

“What?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it? But you have to promise me one thing. You won’t tell your mother.”

“I promise.”

“Scout’s honor?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Buddy jumped up. Wherever she was taking him, he knew it was going to be somewhere fun. They got in the car, and Idgie drove along the railroad tracks where he had never been.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see soon enough, my boy.” After a few minutes she turned onto a one-lane dirt road, and then stopped the car at the edge of a large green meadow out by Double Springs Lake and said, “This is it.”

They got out and she led him over to a spot and said, “Buddy, sit down right here. And do not move. No matter what, don’t move. Promise me, or I can’t show you the surprise.”

“I promise,” he said. It was then that Buddy noticed she had something in her left jacket pocket.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Ahh…that’s for me to know, and you to find out. You just stay right there and don’t ask no more questions. You are about to see my secret magic trick.” Buddy sat and watched as she walked over to a tree across the meadow. Idgie turned around and smiled at him, then pulled a glass jar out of her pocket and stuck her entire arm down inside a hole in the tree. Buddy could hardly believe what happened next. All of a sudden he heard a loud roar, and soon the tree and Idgie were covered with thousands of bees. He sat there with his mouth open as Idgie slowly pulled the jar—which was now full of honey—back out of the tree. She then turned and walked away with the bees still swarming all around her.

When she reached him, all Buddy could say was, “Whoa…whoa…how did you do that, Aunt Idgie?”

“I’m a natural-born bee charmer, that’s how.”

“You are? Wow, what’s that?”

“Somebody that the bees like, that they don’t sting.”

Oh…wow. Does Momma know you’re a bee charmer?”

Idgie made a face. “No! And you can’t tell her, either, all right?”

“I won’t.”

“So now we have a special secret that nobody else in the whole word knows about. Just us.”

“Wow,” he said again.

Of course, that was a bald-faced lie. Ruth knew about the bee tree. Idgie had brought her to that very same tree years ago. But Idgie wanted Buddy to feel special today, because he was to her. And he always would be.

On their way home they stopped at his Aunt Ninny’s house and gave her the jar of honey. She was most grateful. Ninny Threadgoode dearly loved biscuits and honey for breakfast. When they got back to the cafe late that afternoon, Ruth opened the door and smiled. “Where have you two rascals been?”