THE JADE STONE AND MAMA
This is a blog from the archives. One of my favorites about my mama.
April 22, 2015
My mama had a mischievous eye. Occasionally she delighted in bringing it out
to wink in merriment. Once when she and I were returning from Grandma and
Grandpa Georges in Hattisburg, Mississippi, she decided we'd drive to New
Orleans and spend the night before coming home.
I thought nothing about it because I was used to those, spur of the
moment type excursions, on Mama's part.
We stopped for lunch somewhere on Magazine Street, Mama’s favorite place in the world to go antiquing. She could spend days just enjoying all the unique shops up and down this street. After ordering our shrimp po boys and while waiting for our meal, Mama began eavesdropping on the people in the booth just behind her, another of her favorite pastimes. As they ordered, they were talking about a certain large expensive piece of jade, from Burma, they had seen on Magazine street, on their last trip during Mardi Gras and had come back from Dallas to purchase it. During the conversation the couple mentioned the shop's name and described the jade in detail to their friends who had traveled with them. The lady said, “Let’s enjoy our meal and dessert and then go purchase this jade. There’s no hurry. I had called and they know we are coming.”
Mama looked at me, a twinkle in her eye, “Quickly finish your meal,” she
said. “I know that shop. Let's have some fun.” We rushed through our shrimp po boys and
left straight for the antique shop, just two blocks away.
When the people arrived to
acquire the jade, they found Mama at the counter holding that beautiful stone
trying to decide whether she would purchase it.
She kept going on and on about its quality and how her daughter would
love to wear it at her wedding. She told
the shop owner that we had come from Dallas for this stone. “You do remember
our phoning about this, don’t you? We wanted it for our daughter’s wedding,”
she said, smiling at me. The couple was
restless and nervous as they watched in horror.
“Napoleon, Mama said, addressing me, don't you think this would look
perfect on your sister? Sweet daddy
won’t mind. His precious darling is
marrying someone with almost as much money as we and Daddy would LOVE to show
off by buying something expensive for his precious little girl.” I nodded, used to playing along. Mama stood
silent for the longest time before putting it down. She started to walk away but quickly returned
to the counter and examined it some more. Finally, Mama said to the owner,
“Could you hold this beautiful stone while I retrieve my daughter? It won't take a second,” she said, “She’s
down the street purchasing some antique armoire for her new house on the
lake. Darlin’, I'll even leave my son,
Napoleon, here until I return.” He agreed. The couple was devastated. Mama turned,
smiled while greeting the couple, walked to the door, and left.
I watched the color leave their faces. The wife was about to cry. She kept whispering to her husband to do
something. He stood his ground, however,
while standing there in his cowboy boots and leather Stetson hat, appearing as
if his temper would flair at any moment.
I was afraid that if mama didn’t return soon, from around the corner, he
would be rude and force the owner to let them procure it, after all they had
come all the way from Texas for this stone.
I averted my eyes from them as they stood there, uncomfortable in their
silence with hatred in their eyes.
I thought Mama was hiding around
the corner a wee bit too long and was about to bolt for the door. The man in
the Stetson hat began pacing the floor while the wife continued crying.
Just as I felt Mama had abandoned
me, she returned and said, loudly, from the door. “Oh, never mind about holding
that jade. I can't find my daughter. Come
on Napoleon, let's go. I changed my mind
concerning the jade.” The expression on
that woman’s face was priceless, tears smeared her mascara. The man practically knocked me down rushing
to the counter, checkbook in hand.
Mama and I stood outside on Magazine street
laughing.
© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.
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