[title subtitle=”words and images: Sarah Phillips”][/title]
On days when the weather is good, you will almost always find her outside, rocking gently in her swing. Only the tip of one shoe pushes against the grey wooden porch; her short stature is turned slightly in the seat, raising her other foot just out of reach. Her long blonde hair rests on her shoulders, and behind her glasses are blue eyes that are smiling.
Her wide porch covers the entire front side of the house and wraps around the right corner where the swing hangs, giving her resting place the best all around view. The walkway that leads to the front door is bordered by rectangular flowerbeds. Though they are currently empty, there is a cluster of wild violets growing nearby, every year creeping closer to the beds as if making their way home. The door is framed by white pillars and railing that leads down and away from the steps, giving the feel of arms open wide, welcoming one in.
“I used to live down the street,” Mae says as she points a few houses down. It is easy to strike up a conversation with her. With almost 80 years of memories under her belt, she has more than plenty to speak of. “But then this house came up for sale and I told my husband, ‘Larry, I want to buy that house.’ He said, ‘What on earth for?’ and I told him, ‘If for nothing else, that great big porch.’”
“I brought this tree with me from that yard and replanted it here,” she continues as she glances proudly up at the pecan tree that encompasses the entire front yard. The large, soft-shelled pecans it produces are her yearly reward and a favorite snack of squirrels, birds and passersby alike. Just like the pecan tree, Mae has deep roots in Fort Smith, though her story began in Van Buren.
“We grew up on Mt. Vista,” she says thinking back. “My daddy had to keep building onto our home to hold all six of us kids.” Her father worked for the Missouri Pacific Railroad. “And you may think I’m short, but my mother was even shorter. She was a little bitty thing, but she did anything she put her mind to.” Mae’s mother canned everything that she grew from her large garden and cooked every meal from scratch. “Even when other kids stopped by or family came to visit, she always had something tofeed them, no one was ever turned away. She made bread that melted in your mouth. On warm afternoons, she churned homemade ice cream out on the front porch.”
Mae walked to school at Sophia Meyer each day with her brothers, traveling down and then back up the hill. “When it was cold or snowing, we would put our coats on backwards and then take turns buttoning each other up to try and keep warm while we walked.” When it was hot, they stopped and bought Cokes on the way home, putting the charge on their father’s account.
Mae and Larry met on a blind double-date while she was still in high school. He was chosen by her friend to be her date because he owned a car and could drive the four of them around. They went to the Sky-Vue drive-in movie theater and were inseparable after that. They dated for a couple of years, taking the time to get to know one another and fall in love, not just with each other, but also their families. “He would sit and talk with my father for hours about history or the Bible. He was that kind of person, patient, kind.”
The two of them frequently found themselves at an empty lot by her home on Mt. Vista. The piece of land sat on the corner of a bluff that overlooked the Arkansas River and the north side of Fort Smith, where Larry lived. It was always quiet there, the view never disappointed and it became one of their favorite spots. One can imagine them there, sitting in his 1956 turquoise and white Chevy Bel-Air, planning their future and laughing as they reminisce about the past. Mae can hear the train whistles blowing at the bottom of the hill which makes her think of her hardworking father. Behind her, down the road, her mother would be waiting to welcome her home, offering freshly made biscuits or ice cream. And beside her, the love of her life, his arm around her holding her close.
When Mae and Larry married, she wore an A-line floor length dress covered in lace. He wore a black suit and tie. “He looked so handsome that day,” she says with a smile. Waiting for them after the ceremony was Larry’s Chevy, covered in ribbons and “Just Married” written in shoe polish on the sides. Along with their first home they also purchased that piece of land on Mt. Vista that they loved so much.
Larry worked at a dental lab and Mae worked at Shipley Baking Company for a short time and even ran the elevator at the First National Bank downtown as a favor to her father-in-law when he was shorthanded. “He loved to show off his new daughter-in-law,” she grinned. Eventually, Mae landed a secretarial position for the Chief of the Fort Smith Fire Department.
In the evening she went home to her husband and made dinner, but more often than not she had to put it in the oven and keep it warm for him until he arrived home. “His mother had a nursery down the street in her home. She needed to make the kids their dinner, so she always called Larry to go over and tell the kids a story to keep them busy.” Larry told the best stories, and he loved children. Unfortunately, he and Mae were unable to have any of their own.
“My brother was the administrator of the hospital up in Springdale. He knew that we desperately wanted to have a child of our own. Then, one day, he called and said that there was a baby available for adoption and asked if we would like to come and pick him up.” They couldn’t get there fast enough. “Of course, Mother had to go with us and so we all hopped into the Chevy. She held him in the back seat on the way home. She said it wasn’t safe to have him up front. Every time the sun shined in our baby’s face she slid over to the other side of the car, back and forth the whole way home,” she says with a giggle and a shake of her head. When Mae arrived home, waiting for her was a new crib, courtesy of some of the guys at the fire department.
Time passed quickly, and their son grew up. Along with her job at the fire department, Mae also worked nights at the old Wal-Mart on Midland. Larry drove the train at Creekmore Park during the summer and the Christmas Holiday. “He always took a bag of quarters with him to work, in case any of the children couldn’t pay for a ride. He didn’t want anyone to miss out.” He drove the train for ten years before his death in 2004.
Mae retired from the fire department and filled her time with her family, her granddaughters in particular. She had the “old ’56 Chevy” completely refurbished in her husband’s memory and took it to several car shows in town. People still marvel at the fact that she has owned the car going on 60 years. She loves telling its history, her behind the wheel, cruising from one major life event to the next.
She visits her land on Mt. Vista often, gazing out at the expansive view, remembering her husband and the joy she has always felt there. She isn’t the only visitor to this property. Family, friends and even strangers find themselves captivated by the view. Her son, among others, have held weddings there.
Over the years, Mae has received many offers to buy the old car and sometimes it’s from the same person over and over, “Are you ready to sell her yet?” She’s had just as many inquiries on the piece of land on Mt. Vista. Especially since all of the other plots of land on the hill are occupied. Her answer is always the same, “No.”
When Mae looks at her husband’s beautiful, old Chevy or her plot of land on the hill, she doesn’t see a price tag. Both the car and the land are physical manifestations of her love, her memories, and of her life. “And when something brings you that much joy, it’s priceless.”
