Miss Anna Mae
There is a house in New Orleans (No, this is not the beginning of a song). It’s the place just a few doors down from me. A very humble abode actually. An unassuming little double that would never catch your eye. It’s small, in need of a little paint and a new screen on the storm door. It is, however, where a lady named Anna Mae lives.
There are two very uncomfortable looking chairs that bookend each side of the porch. The chair to the left is of special significance…at least to me.
That chair is typically occupied each and every day by one Miss Anna Mae White. Usually only after about 2 or 3pm mind you because her daily commitment to The Price is Right and, of course, her stories is a priority. I believe the Young and the Restless is her favorite.
You wont catch her out there when it’s chilly; if it’s in the low to mid 60’s it’s too cold for Anna Mae. It is New Orleans after all, so that‘s chilly. Summertime in this city makes Hell look like Nome.
After her television commitments it was time to watch the real world. Not the TV show, real things that most ignore. People, cars, the occasional squirrel (she’s fascinated watching squirrels on the power lines), kids playing across the street, the garbage men collecting trash, sunset. Not always exciting, but real things happening around us every day.
Sometimes I honestly believe she’s watching the grass grow.
You can almost see the wheels turning in her head as she just sits there. I always wondered what the hell she was thinking about. After getting to know her, I suspect she thought a lot about life and the things she’s seen. And, knowing her, sometimes nothing at all.
Anna Mae is a 69 year old bright eyed lady going on 30. She is a vibrant, positive woman who never allows anything get to her, at least outwardly. Time and experience have conditioned her I suspect. She has a beautiful smile and an infectious laugh.
Some of the stories she’s shared with me would make many people jaded and bitter about life. Her past experiences, injustices included, truly made her stronger. And, I believe, more willing to find the good in all people and situations.
She always sees the positive, or simply ignores the negative; I’m not sure which one. She’s experienced things that most of us have only studied in history class. The pinnacle of inequality in the deep south wasn‘t history to her…it was current events in her day.
Miss Anna Mae grew up poor but she always recognized the richness of her childhood. She always appreciates those around her and never once takes anything for granted. She’s even polite to those who irritate her. I’m still trying to master that talent.
She speaks of good times as a child; her stories remind me of my mom, dad and grand parents’ stories. They never had to lock their doors, they ate together at the table, they spent time talking to one another. My God, what those times must have been like.
They were sometimes scared about events unfolding in an uncertain world around them but, somehow, the simplicity of their environment gave them courage and hope. I believe it strengthened their love for one another and those around them.
She holds a calm and unflustered way about her, unless you get her on the subject of snakes. They used to crawl in the house when she was younger. What puzzles me is that she’s so damn afraid of snakes yet, when she was a kid, she rode on the back of an alligator. WHAT??!! But, I digress.
Miss Anna Mae loves to dance. Although years of working on her feet in the French Quarter service industry has taken its toll. She loves music…all of it. From Johnny Cash to Amy Winehouse, Elvis to Rhianna. Pearl Jam to 3 Doors Down. And, of course, Fats Domino.
While Anna Mae grew up in rural Louisiana, most of her adult life was spent in New Orleans. She worked in the French Quarter back in a day that most people would not believe. The stories she could tell!
She was always fascinated with things she saw in the Quarter. As she one day announced, “I saw a Maaan dat looked like a woman, and he made a pretty woman. How you think dat is”? Her innocence, for her age, always amazed me. It was not naiveté, she’s simply fascinated by any and everything.
She represents a constant, unassuming, calm force in the middle of a chaotic world that surrounds her. All of us actually.
“I don’t pay no attention to foolishness, as long as they not botherin’ me, ain’t none of my business”. Just one of many life lessons and philosophies she shared with me during the course of one of our many, uh, sessions.
We held court in our regular spot at the corner of the bar in a Mid City Irish pub named Finn McCools. Anna Mae is a fixture there and, because I loved being around her, I suppose I was as well.
Joining us many times, was one of our partners in crime, Mr. Sidney. Mr. Sidney is a year away from retirement and has known Anna Mae for a long time. He is a kind and gentle man with whom Anna Mae and I spend a lot of time.
I often found myself wondering what the hell does an almost 70 year old black woman from the rural deep south find so appealing about hanging out with a skinny little white boy who hails from the suburbs of Nashville, Tennessee? I’m sure she probably wondered the same about her appeal to me. Now I realize that we share a common thread…life. Human connection in its simplest form.
We didn’t over complicate things, as so many people do. You see, we talk about anything, or nothing, and we’re content with each other’s company. Conversations were never forced, they came naturally. Silence is never awkward, it’s comfortable. It’s one of the purest forms of friendship I’ve ever known.
One day me and “Pops”, as many call Mr. Sydney, noticed that when Anna Mae would go to the restroom she would cover her Crown and Sprite with a bar napkin. Upon her return from the long walk back from the facilities one day, I asked her: “With me on one side of you and Syd on the other, what the hell are you protecting your drink from?" She replied “Y’all might try to slip sumthin’ in my drank and take advantage of me”. And then she’d laugh. And so would we.
Most nights, we watch the young boys send over drink after drink. Some nights she couldn’t possibly drink them all, lest I would have to drive her home. She never wanted a ride by the way, she wanted to get her exercise. So the bar would hold drinks on account for her to use on her next visit.
She once asked me: “Why you think all these 20 sumthin’ year old baweys be flirtin’ with me when I‘m almost 70”? I just smiled to myself and replied: “Cause’ you’re hot Anna Mae, they may be tryin’ to get you drunk and take ya’ home”. She never missed a beat, “I ain’t lookin’ for no man tonight cause you walkin’ me home anyway, and I be too tired. They couldn‘t handle this anyway”. Yes indeed.
She rarely curses, but she does utter some random things from the top of her very curious mind. We sat quietly one evening, as many times we do, when out of the blue she asked “Do you think I’m pretty”? She is indeed a pretty old lady with not a wrinkle on her beautiful skin.
Another favorite question came as she interrupted my crossword concentration one day. Breaking the silence, she posed this lovely question:
“I wonder how two big ol’ fat peoples have sex? Big 300 sumthin' pound fat peoples! I mean, I know they have sex cause’ I know fat people have kids”. I never could quite answer that question. Not sure I could today, but she’s right…they DO have kids.
I cant join her every night but, when I do, when she’s ready for me to walk her home she’d exclaims the following exit mantra: “I’m gonna do what the duck did”. My reply, always, “what the duck did”? “The duck like to fuck“. I’m not entirely sure where she got that one from, and I don’t ask. I just play along.
She lives one and a half short blocks from the pub but, because of her legs, a 60 second walk takes about 5 minutes. Fine with me. That’s where we have most of our deepest chats.
Syd and I sometimes get to the pub earlier than her and we see her out the window walking down the street…about a half block away. One of us usually saves her chair by sitting in it. We look out the window and then to each other and shrug “well, we probably still have 5 more minutes before she reaches the door”.
Anna Mae was a tremendous help to me during a fairly long and hear wrenching illness suffered by my mother. She offered even more comforting words of advice to me upon my return to the city after mom passed.
The thing I liked most about her words of advice and comfort was that she didn’t coddle me. She explained, in a thoughtful manner, this is the way life is my baby. We’re supposed to outlive our parents. "You'll be fine, ya‘ heard me?" she assured.
It was quite comforting to spend time with her, learning. Her lessons now resonate in my head, helping me to cope and to rebuild other areas of my life as I correct things about myself, mend fences and strive to be a better person today than I was yesterday and a better person tomorrow than I am today.
I was back in New Orleans a few weeks upon wrapping things up In Tennessee after mom died when one day Anna Mae got on the subject of food that she was craving. Now, she’d been telling me forever how she wanted some turnip greens. Or as she said it “Toinip Greens”. I like greens too, but I’m not sure that I’ve ever craved them.
So, I promised that the following day I’d bring her a late lunch which would include greens, but that I’d have to do it after work. I brought BAKED chicken (healthier), mac and cheese (not so healthy, but a guilty pleasure),and turnip greens. Some folks call it soul food. Growing up in the south, I always called it dinner.
I found her on that porch watching the world go by, as usual, and delivered lunch. She thought I had forgotten about her. How could I ever forget about her?
We chatted for a minute and made our plans to solve the worlds problems at the corner of the bar later. She seemed to have a sense of urgency about meeting up that evening, she said she was bored that day for some reason. What a night we had!
We talked and talked and talked. She went on and on about the greens. I wondered, at this point, if the greens had a bizarre effect on her metabolism that made her talk more than usual. I loaded the jukebox with music that I knew she liked and she sang along to every word of every song. Johnny Cash was the last song of that very early evening when it was time for the 5 minute slow trek home. A great night indeed.
Prescience comes to mind right now. The old saying “if I knew then what I know now” applies at some point or another in most people’s lives. It applies to work, to relationships, to friendships and decisions. Sometimes I find myself thinking how I wish that night had never ended. But, it did.
Anna Mae passed away early the following morning, quickly and peacefully. I’m told it was a massive heart attack. A lady with no history of health problems whatsoever.
It was her time to go I suppose.
Her children outlived their parents. As Anna Mae put it, that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Yes indeed. While I know that’s true, It makes it none to easy to grasp.
If ever there were a time in my life where my faith was tested to the brink, it was at that very moment. But now I realize that it has strengthened my hope and faith. People come in and out of our lives; it’s the way it is and the way it always will be for each of us. Someday I will be that person and so will you, forever gone from earth. But, eternally in the hearts of the people who colored our lives in their own unique way.
The impact that Anna Mae had on me and, I know, many others is part of her larger legacy. Hers, much like mom, was a presence that simply put you at ease. She made me laugh, she offered advice and she listened. Whether we talked non stop or sat quietly enjoying each other’s company, we had fun…she always had fun. She was a good friend.
Hers was a most humble life; an unassuming person who probably never realized the impact that her unassuming existence had on many.
When we’re gone, as each of us will inevitably be, what kind of impact will we make? What legacy will we leave? If the answer is negative, then it’s time to do some work. Don't I know it!
I left the city shortly after Anna Mae’s funeral to take care of personal business and to plant the seeds for a new beginning in Tennessee. I came back to New Orleans for a work project recently. I figured while I was here I’d take advantage of the environment to write about Anna Mae. I actually began writing about my experiences above some time before her death…only now did I feel the time was right to finish it.
After all, she’s probably looking over my shoulder, wondering how I figured out how to turn on this damn computer. She never did understand computers, and sometimes neither do I.
She never told me so, but I could tell from the looks she would sometimes give me that she probably thought I should put my phone down more often and watch the world once in a while. When I would catch one of those looks I felt gently scolded...and then I'd quickly extinguish all portable electronics and pay attention to life unfolding around me.
She had a simple, yet deft, understanding of people. I admired that…I still do.
Even though I’ve changed some things in my life lately, I found it fitting to sit in my usual spot at Finn McCools, next to Anna Mae’s seat, where her name is unassumingly memorialized on a brass plate just beneath the bar. Simply etched:
“Forever Anna Mae”.
I’m looking over my shoulder through the small window that affords a view straight down the street to her house. I can almost see her shuffling from side to side on her tired legs walking toward the bar, as I saw many times before.
I’m sure she’s got brand new legs where she is now and she’s singing and dancing like she so loved to do. And so…I’m smiling right now…
But, I do miss my friend.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010
