The Shadow
I was reminded again recently that funerals do indeed have a plus side: They serve as a sort of “old home week,” thrusting you back to happy days gone by.
Dear old Ralph Helmintoller died last month at age 99. When someone lives to be 99, well, you’re allowed to call them “old” as well as “dear.” Ralph did not achieve his goal of living to be 100, but that is perhaps the only goal Ralph did not achieve. When I read his obituary, I was astounded at his accomplishments.
Just one of those was the fact that Ralph served on the board of BARC Electric Cooperative for 59 years. That’s right: Fifty. Nine. Years.
Think. Take your time. Do you know of anyone who has served on anything for 59 years?
Equally astonishing was the fact that Ralph and his late wife Edna were married 72 years. Seventy. Two. Years. Think again. Take your time …
I have known Ralph since 1965, when I began dating his son, William. William and I were sweethearts throughout high school. We spent a lot of time in Covington – the Strand or the Visulite or the Covington Hi-Way Drive In; the North Side; Buddy & Sonny’s, Kenney’s. Gee, but Covington was bustling way back then.
And speaking of Sonny, we never went to Covington but that we didn’t hook up with Sonny Thompson, usually at the Palace Restaurant downtown. I don’t quite recall the connection between William and Sonny. He was older than we were (sorry, Sonny). He was quite cosmopolitan and urbane -an insurance agent – while we were a couple of teenagers, longing to reach that level of sophistication.
Somehow or other (the memory fails after awhile), Sonny met William’s cousin Lynda Neff. Anyone in Covington probably already knows the rest of that love story.
William and I would occasionally run into his cousin, David Craft, too. We often had William’s sidekick, Allen Rodgers, along for the sheer fun of it. Sadly, Allen died some years ago, way too young. He had an adorable way of giggling, though, that I can conjure up and “hear” to this day.
William had an older sister, Julie. She was glamorous to us. She had very tiny feet. Isn’t it funny, the things one remembers?
There were many happy memories when William, Sonny, Lynda, Julie, David and I gathered at the funeral home to say goodbye to Ralph.
William’s mother, known to many as “Miss Edna” was, well, formidable is a good word. She ran the playground at The Homestead with a firm hand. She had blue hair, quite the fashion among ladies of a certain age back then.
My father and Miss Edna often crossed swords. I don’t know why. Around our house, Daddy called her “Old Blue.” I always thought this was rather funny. It’s a shame no one told me that Daddy never called Miss Edna “Old Blue” to her face.
William went to Hargrave Military Academy. As his steady date, I got to attend military balls in my teens – wear an elegant gown with dyed-to-match shoes, elbow-length gloves that were my grandmother’s, and whirl around a dance floor with hundreds of cadets, all handsome in their uniforms. It was life, as I always pictured it should be.
Miss Edna would drive me to Chatham for these Hargrave gatherings. One Friday afternoon, she was to pick me up in downtown Hot Springs. My mother let me out of the car. I looked around to find Miss Edna’s car, and didn’t see it. Then, I spied her across the street. I needed to get her attention.
“Old Blue! Old Blue!” I cried, waving merrily.
About the same time Miss Edna gave me a very stern look, I noticed my mother hanging her head down near the steering wheel.
Life … you gotta love it!
