{"id":9467,"date":"2016-06-03T00:05:32","date_gmt":"2016-06-03T05:05:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jolenephilo.com\/staging\/?p=9467"},"modified":"2016-05-30T11:44:51","modified_gmt":"2016-05-30T16:44:51","slug":"courtin-onions-for-a-fantastic-friday","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jolenephilo.com\/staging\/courtin-onions-for-a-fantastic-friday\/","title":{"rendered":"Courtin’ Onions for a Fantastic Friday"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"MINOLTA<\/a>My parents, Harlan and Dorothea Stratton, were married on this date in 1951. Their marriage was not what either of them envisioned when they made their vows. But their love was true and their devotion to one another never wavered. In honor of them and the beginning of Vidalia onion season, please enjoy today’s Fantastic Friday offering.<\/p>\n

Courtin\u2019 Onions<\/strong>
\nSo then, you shall know them by their fruits.<\/em>
\nMatthew 7: 20<\/em><\/p>\n

The first sweet Vidalia onions of the season appeared in our grocery store this week. Their presence brought to mind a chapter of the first book I wrote…the one about my father that led to an agent but not to a contract. Not for this book, at least. So today, in honor of Father’s Day and sweet Vidalias, enjoy this chapter from the unpublished manuscript. It’s much longer than my usual posts, but the timing is perfect. This story takes place right after Mom, my sister, brother, and I meet with the undertaker and decided to purchase plaid boxers for Dad to wear at his funeral…under his suit, of course.<\/em><\/p>\n

The underwear dilemma successfully resolved, a multitude of decisions rushed in to fill the vacuum created in its wake. What kind of casket? The farm scene one, of course. How sturdy a vault? \u201cThe cheapest one,\u201d we chorused, all remembering Dad\u2019s comment at the same funeral home when selecting his father\u2019s final resting place over thirty years before. \u201cWhy buy the most expensive vault, guaranteed to last who knows how many years? They\u2019re just gonna\u2019 bury the thing, for Pete\u2019s sake,\u201d Dad declared, leaving little doubt where he sat on the issue.<\/p>\n

We honored his wishes and soothed our own frugal souls, sticking to the bargain basement model. We chose the bulletin with the windmill and the Scriptures about endurance and rising up to walk. Some controversy arose concerning the music for the service. We kids wanted The Old Gray Mare<\/em>, I\u2019ve Been Workin\u2019 on the Railroad<\/em>, and Sioux City Sioux<\/em>, but Mom held out for more traditional fare, allowing Dad\u2019s Passenger Seat Top Forty a brief airing during the luncheon after the service and internment.<\/p>\n

Great-uncle Burnell, a former plumber and pipe layer whose memory contained a map of the entire underground terrain of Nevada, Iowa, where Dad was to be buried, was on the phone. He assured us that he was consulting with the cemetery crew concerning the exact location of Dad\u2019s future digs.<\/p>\n

\u201cSay,\u201d he hollered over the phone, after describing in detail the precise drainage characteristics and soil qualities of the earth Dad would displace. His raspy voice grated across the wires like gravel, \u201cAnybody told Willie \u2018bout Harlan bein\u2019 dead? Want me ta go over and do it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom held her hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, \u201cBurnell wants to know if he should go tell Willie. What do you think?\u201d She hesitated. Burnell had a heart of pure gold, but when in the presence of strong emotion he lacked skill in the tact department, and his best intentions were sometimes misinterpreted.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell him that you and I are going to see Willie,\u201d John advised Mom. \u201cTell him you want to visit Willie yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Willie New was a shadowy figure from our parents\u2019 past, one of the people they often spoke of but rarely saw. Once Dad and Mom left Nevada, the small central Iowa town where they lived for the first three years of their marriage, Willie hovered around the edges of their lives, seldom making an actual appearance. Willie and Dad met when both were young men farming near Nevada. They shared a love for cattle that bonded their friendship. Each was his parents\u2019 only child, so each filled for the other the empty space in their lives. Willie filled that space amply, for he was a big guy. Standing beside Dad, grinning proudly from his place of honor as best man, Willie is the only person in my parents\u2019 wedding party whose cubic footage topped the groom\u2019s. Holding the ring and passing it on was as close as Willie ever came to a wedding band, and his bachelor life suited him just fine.<\/p>\n

On trips to Nevada, Dad and Willie occasionally visited, though Willie didn\u2019t like crowds too much. Mostly Willie kept in touch through the sending of an annual Christmas card, but we learned more about him via the grapevine gossip Dad\u2019s two elderly aunts passed along from time to time.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell Harlan,\u201d Aunt Ginnie\u2019s voice gained volume when talking long distance in an effort to push the words along the miles of wire. \u201cTell Harlan Willie\u2019s building himself a little house in town. He don\u2019t think it\u2019s safe for him to live on the home place alone, now that his parents is gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHarlan,\u201d Aunt Gladys wrote in Dad\u2019s birthday card, \u201cWillie New, your old friend, he just found out he\u2019s got the diabetes, just like you. Hit him awful bad, he\u2019s not doing a bit good, and he just don\u2019t get out much anymore. He\u2019s still livin\u2019 in that new house he built, and someone comes in to check on him. I heard it at church circle and thought I\u2019d better tell you. Sorry the news isn\u2019t any better from down here, but we\u2019re all getting old, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom and John headed to Nevada, to that new house of Willie\u2019s, to tell an old man that the friend of his youth was dead. They were somber as they left on the errand, unsure of how Willie, in his own fragile state of health, would handle the news. When they returned from the mission, the smiles on their faces told me a story was in the works.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019d Willie take the news?\u201d Jill and I waited impatiently as they entered the kitchen and sat down before answering.<\/p>\n

Mom was chuckling as she began to talk. \u201cWell, we told Willie, and he was quiet for awhile as you\u2019d expect. Then he said, \u2018Dorothy, I don\u2019t think I\u2019ll come to the funeral. I don\u2019t get around real good, and I don\u2019t like crowds much. Maybe Dick Suttle, he helps me with my shoppin\u2019, ya know, can bring me to the funeral home. I\u2019d like to see Harlan one more time.\u2019 I told him that was a good plan, and I understood that he couldn\u2019t come to the funeral. Then we talked for a bit, and you\u2019ll never guess what Willie said.\u201d<\/p>\n

John sat on a tall stool at the kitchen island, the grin on his face assuring us that the best was yet to come. \u201cWillie\u2019s quite a talker, you know, very smooth…\u201d he began.<\/p>\n

Mom interrupted, not willing to let John steal her thunder. \u201cWillie said, \u2018Dorothy, you took care of Harlan all those years. He couldn\u2019t have asked for a better wife. You got nothing to be ashamed of, ya know that?\u2019 I told him I knew that, and then he said…I just can\u2019t believe he said this…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe made her quite an offer. You want me to tell \u2018em what it was?\u201d John nudged the story along.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlright, John, let me finish,\u201d Mom snapped. \u201cWillie said, \u2018Dorothy,\u2019 in that high nasal voice of his, \u2018Dorothy, you get lonely, you can come live with me. I got a whole apartment in the basement. You could live down there and come up here and take care of me. You could even drive that Cadillac I got sittin\u2019 in the garage out there.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Jill and I looked at one another, and I wondered if she was having as hard a time as I was imagining our frugal mother steering a blatantly extravagant Cadillac around Nevada, Iowa. Jill burst out, \u201cI certainly hope you told him no.\u201d Apparently the horror of Mom jumping out of the frying pan of Dad\u2019s convalescence into the fire of Willie\u2019s failing health took precedence over the Cadillac vision for her.<\/p>\n

\u201cTold you it was quite an offer,\u201d John teased.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course I told him no, but I had to do it nicely. \u2018Willie,\u2019 I said, \u2018I\u2019ve spent most of my life raising kids and caring for a sick husband. I believe I need a break. I\u2019ve had enough sickness, don\u2019t you think?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet him down real easy, didn\u2019t she?\u201d John baited her. \u201cHe was a little disappointed, but I think he\u2019ll recover.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJohn, let me finish this story. Willie said, \u2018Dorothy, you\u2019re right. You don\u2019t need no more sickness. I understand.\u2019 I told him I would visit him now and then. I think that helped.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you ever, ever say yes to an offer like that,\u201d Jill lectured Mom. \u201cYou deserve your own life now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Jill, I have no intention of tying myself down. I made myself perfectly clear.\u201d<\/p>\n

Willie, however, was not so easily discouraged. He made it to the funeral home for visitation, shuffling along behind his walker, across the long room to where Dad lay in the casket with the farm scene decorating the shiny satin underside of the lid. Willie looked at the carved wooden cow held in lifeless hands and bowed his head for a long time. \u201cDorothy,\u201d he shook himself out of the past he had shared with his friend and spoke as she came up beside him, \u201cya done good. He woulda liked that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks for coming, Willie. It means a lot.\u201d Mom shook his hand and hovered over him as he shuffled out of the room and down the stairs outside.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom,\u201d we teased her when she returned, \u201cquit leading the poor man on.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you three just stop for once,\u201d she retorted and huffed off to talk to Uncle Burnell and Aunt Ginnie.<\/p>\n

A month or two later, Mom called and said, \u201cYou\u2019ll never guess who stopped by.\u201d I didn\u2019t even try. \u201cWillie New!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow in the world did Willie get to Boone? He can\u2019t drive can he?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Dick Suttle brought him over.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat for?\u201d I was getting curious.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe likes to shop at Peoples\u2019 Clothing downtown. They carry work clothes in big and tall sizes. Willie said he gets most of his clothes there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo he stopped in to say hi when they were done. That\u2019s nice.\u201d The visit was starting to make a little more sense. \u201cDid he and Dick stay long?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s the funny part, Jolene. Willie didn\u2019t even come in. The doorbell rang and I opened the door, and there he was, holding an onion in his hand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you say \u2018an onion\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Mom laughed. \u201cHe stood there holding the onion. \u2018Sweet Vidalia,\u2019 Willie explained. \u2018I buy \u2018em in ten pound bags every spring and take them \u2018round to all my friends. They\u2019re a real sweet onion. This\u2019uns for you, Dorothy.\u2019 I really didn\u2019t know what to say,\u201d Mom went on.<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like he was making a move, Mom,\u201d I couldn\u2019t resist. \u201cDid you invite him in?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood grief, Jolene. He said he couldn\u2019t stay, he just wanted to give me the onion.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what that sounds like to me?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think that was a courtin\u2019 onion…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJolene!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Mom, some men give flowers, some give candy, but Willie has it all over them. He brought you an onion. You better be careful or someday he might bring you the whole ten pound bag.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you please stop?\u201d<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t wait to share the story with Hiram and the kids when I got off the phone. Then, I called my brother and my sister.<\/p>\n

\u201cSmooth, that man is smooth,\u201d John boomed over the line.<\/p>\n

\u201cAn onion? An actual onion?\u201d Jill double checked the facts.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot just any onion,\u201d I corrected. \u201cA Sweet Vidalia.\u201d We laughed until we cried imagining Willie at the door, paying homage to my mother, recognizing and honoring her faithfulness with the humblest of gifts. A rose by any other name could never have smelled as sweet.<\/p>\n

When sweet onions are in season, I only buy the Sweet Vidalias. I pass up the red onions, the Walla Walla Sweets, and the Colorado Sweets, and head straight for the courtin\u2019 onions.<\/p>\n

\u201cCourtin\u2019 onions are in,\u201d I call and tell my mother when I first see them in the store.<\/p>\n

\u201cJolene.\u201d The one word is tinged with impatience as I exasperate her again.<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t find words to tell her what those onions and Willie\u2019s offering of them means to me. \u201cWe are known by our fruits,\u201d Jesus said, and as I look at my mother\u2019s life, I know that is true. She finished school, raised three kids, taught for thirty-eight years, and through it all cared for her husband, never thinking of walking away. The strain of it nearly broke her a few times, and she was too stubborn to seek or to accept help, too proud to admit weakness, too determined to do it all alone. But, the mistakes she made were covered by her devotion to a righteous cause and her absolute commitment to the promises she made in her wedding vows. God knew her heart and, when her duties were done, honored her with a fruit that matched her character, delivered by a messenger who knew her worth.<\/p>\n

The fruits of the spirit are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control; but if possible, I would like to enter into that exalted list one more: a Sweet Vidalia onion, hearty and healthful, its zippy bite tempered by sweetness, its flavor permeating whatever dish it graces. Its presence there stands, at least for me, as a perfect reminder of my mother\u2019s extraordinary and fruitful life.<\/p>\n

Photo Source<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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