Mamie's Buton

By Ed Wingham

Mamie's Button reflects the emerging maturity of a young teen buoyed by his first love but tempered against the realities of a world gone astray. This story chronicles the challenges of an impressionable mind striving to create a normal life amidst difficult odds. Rudy, the young boy, finds more than solace with his grandmother Mamie; he finds unconditional love. Through it all, the button, a mere keepsake from times long since passed, shines forth as an image of trust and love that binds humanity into the One.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ed Wingham
• Release date: Jul 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465894199

Ed Wingham

Retired and allocating most of my time to part-time teaching and writing. I enjoy being active (jogging and biking), church, eating breakfast out and family and friends. I live in Tipp City, Ohio, and enjoy small towns... I'm a Cleveland Browns fan and like college football as well. As of this date, I have published one story, "The Trumains", to the Kindle, but more on the way. Thanks much.

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Mamie’s Button

By Ed Wingham

Copyright © 2011 by Edwin W. Wingham. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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First Printing, 2011

http://www.edwingham.com

This is dedicated to the memory of my grandmother who was indeed saintly.

Introduction

Mamie’s Button provides a glimpse of the all-to-common journey of boyhood into the realities of a world gone astray. From his innocence to the barren landscape of Afghanistan, Rudy Carmichael is pulled into the familiar and the tempting, but through it all, the unconditional love from Mamie, his grandmother, guides him away from the parched land and to the oasis of life.

The button, a prized remnant from long ago, is given to Rudy as a constant reminder of Mamie’s steadfast love and, becomes for him, a symbol of trust and hope in his life to come.

Chapter One

Put the duffle bags all the way in the back. Stack ‘em on either side so the weight is about the same. Got a five hour ride to paradise. We’ll be there about midnight; harder to see us in the dark.

Seven months in Falusia and two in Baghdad would, I feared, be a summer vacation compared to Afghanistan. The consequences were obvious and the risk as well; my prior three years had prepared me for the worst unlike many that were thrown into situations that only experience could overcome. The plane groaned and labored as it made speed and the dust and small villages were diminished as we climbed northward leaving Iraq a fading memory.

Forty-seven men from the greenest untested Marine to the grizzled sergeant lined the cargo plane with the tools of war and the obscenities of adulthood. I flashed an eye to Hickock who had been thrown into the unit but yesterday. How young, how raw, how badly I felt for him. Keeping a low profile, he stared down afraid to make eye contact. His face was flush, and he wiggled from side to side. I stared at his gangly clothes and smiled at his dis-ease. He embodied innocence and an inexperience that were all too familiar for his slender frame. My eyes flirted and danced as his head sagged, yawning but unable to sleep. Something about him trapped me; something of his twelve year old face connected me to that summer, the summer that I long remembered and the visit to Mamie’s.

Listen to me boy. Are you listenin’? Don’t go treating your grandmother bad ya hear? She’s damn near eighty and has no time to be playing. No energy to do so neither. Here’s a couple of dollars if you need something. I’ll be back Monday morning I reckon. Give your mother a kiss good bye. Get your clothes in that bag and put your dirty ones back in there. Go on now, I got things to do. Bye boy.

Bye mother. Love you.

I watched as mother drove away in that familiar hurry that was so common to her. Speeding to nowhere I always thought; nothing to do but busy doin’ it.

I swung open the iron gate that had lost most of its paint appeal and listened to its pronounced creak as I approached the porch. Mommaw Mamie saw me and had just opened the door as I straddled the last step avoiding the cracked board that lay unrepaired for longer than I could remember. I liked the old house; it seemed to fit her just right. She had everything just as she wanted it, and unlike our house, it was always neat and comfortable.

Rudy, you are getting taller every time I see you. Just twelve years but you must be near six feet already.

I’m five feet eleven mom says. She measured me with that yard stick just last night. Well, it ain’t quite a whole yard any more Mommaw cause she broke part of swatting me with it a few weeks ago. But I am pretty near six feet. Be glad when I am, ‘cause I don’t like the five feet stuff. Everybody is five feet something. I want to be special.

Rudy, my boy, you are special. Right special I would say.

Mommaw was bent over and sometimes shuffled as she walked but she could scoot around the house and was always busy doin’ things for herself and lots of others as well. She wore a long dress even in the hottest of summers, but I never saw her sweat or complain. That must be some kind of miracle reserved for grandmothers I reckoned. Her hair neatly rested in a bun, and though totally gray, it became her and seemed fitting. Her stockings sagged but I wasn’t goin’ to say nothing about it; her shoes were always black and could nearly double for a female version of army boots. I watched as she walked ahead and motioned me into the kitchen.

Somethin’ smells good Mommaw Mamie. Real good matter fact.

Rudy, I want you to just start callin’ me Mamie from now on. I know habits are hard to change, but you’re so big now and all folks just call me Mamie; reckon I feel comfortable with that.

Okay, I guess. Sorry if I slip up but I’ll try. But you are always mommaw to me.

Yes, Rudy, I know. Give your grandma a hug.

I never felt safer and more special than when I was with her. She drew me close and patted my back with that reassuring love that she gave so freely.

Take your bag to the spare bedroom Rudy, and then we’ll see what I can rustle up for dinner tonight. Go on now and we’ll get situated.

Okay mommaw, sorry, I mean Mamie. Be right back.

I scaled the wooden stairs intentionally walking outside the well-worn patterns that had been etched from so many footsteps before. My room would be the last one at the end of the landing and, just as I had thought, the bed was neatly made and the curtains were drawn back to allow the sun to penetrate the room. I folded my clothes and placed them in the top drawer of the oak dresser which had seen decades of clothes before mine. I gazed about the room and remembered how each thing seemed the same as last year. How forgiving she was after I had accidentally broken a small figurine; I spied it sitting atop the mantel a little worse for the wear and tear but holding its own beside the clock which never missed a chime. I sat on the side of the bed and felt it give to my body and swallow me as only a feather bed can. Why wasn’t life like this every day? Why must I live or have mother live such a hard life? She’s never happy with me or herself. What a contrast, what a difference with her and Mamie. You would think they would be the same, Mamie being her mother, but mother was not her and Mamie’s gentleness would soothe a lot of everyday pain.

Did ya get lost up there Rudy? Need your help a bit down here if you can?

Be right there Mamie. Be right there.

Had some of this fixed earlier this mornin’. If you can set the table Rudy I’ll put the bread into bake; it won’t be five minutes I reckon. I made lemonade Rudy. I know that’s your favorite, and I tell ya, I like it pretty good myself.

I love it Mamie. I’ve never tasted anything better than your lemonade. Mother says she can’t make it like you do so she never tries.

I gotcha a glass already poured, and you can have it now ifun ya want. I confess I had myself a glass before you came down.

I watched as she deftly placed the bowls at each end of the table and sliced the ham with the exact thickness time and again.

Do you like yams, Rudy? I put marshmallows on most of them. Saved a few for myself; can’t be eatin’ too many of those things or I won’t be able to get into my dress tomorrow.

She laughed and winked at me as I downed the last sip of lemonade. The bread was ready, and I felt like I hadn’t eaten in days.

I’m starvin’ Mamie. Everything looks so good. I’ll have to come visit more often.

Yes, Rudy, yes you will.

You can sit right there, and I will sit here so I reach all the bowls and the ham. Put the bread on Rudy, and I think we’ll about have it.

As I sat down, I eyed the whole table and realized how, like her house, she did every task with care and love because she was giving from her own talent and the simplest of chores had meaning.

I’ll say the grace Rudy if that is okay?

Sure Mamie. Sure.

Lord God in heaven above, I ask your eternal blessing on this food. May it be nourishing to our body and mind and move us along that journey that leads us to the promised land. I’ma askin’ your special blessing on Rudy, now Lord, my grandson, as he’s a getting’ big and will be movin’ to junior high next school term. Help him Lord to see your way and to follow it forever. I’ma askin’ this in your name, Father, Amen.

How’s this lookin’ to you son? Hope it is fit to eat."

Mamie, it is sure tasty. Forgive me, I can’t talk and eat at the same time.

She laughed and smiled as I nearly inhaled the first few bites.

Looks like you haven’t eaten in days.

Not like this I tell ya. Not like this. You’re the best Mamie; ain’t never have no food this good.

Ain’t? Now Rudy, I …

Sorry Mamie. Bad habit.

I could see her gazing at me quizzically I thought; I was unsure how to interpret it. Looking back on it now I sense it was her depth of sadness and pity.

She passed the ham a third time and the bread with butter was divine. Now the yams, even with the marshmallows were an acquired taste I guess.

I’m stuffed Mamie. I haven’t eaten this much in days. Everything was wonderful. You’re the best cook, Mamie.

She poured