Chapter 1
Monday April 1, 1963
Annie’s Voice
Prying and Planning
My oldest sister, Ethel, is not well.
I have been calling her a few times a week which is not the norm. Ethel is usually the organizer of the Nash women. She initiates telephone calls, family events, and most everything else. Even our every-other-Sunday-evening conversation agenda is written by her. She wants to know about any “fancy event” Jon and I attended, or what the children are doing in or after school. Ethel always adds a bit of criticizing about Washington politics. She thinks I have inside scoop. When the subject heads toward those in charge of our country and what they are doing wrong, I know it’s time to say goodbye.
In the last month, the conversations have been different. I’ve had a new quest – to find out about Ethel’s health. My role on the call is to be the detective. What she is saying is not as important as how she says it. While I am asking about her day, I listen for a difference in her demeanor, the strength of her voice, and the weakness of her breathing.
According to her husband, Larry, she has not been the same lately. Last month he called me late at night. That call was as different in content as mine are now when I call Ethel.
I answered the telephone. Larry’s voice was a whisper. “Annie, I think she is sick. Not like the flu or anything. But really sick. She doesn’t complain about anything but she moves slower, goes to bed earlier and gets up late. And heck, she’s not eating much and you know that’s gotta be a sign of something. When I ask her what’s going on, she says everything is okay. Or she’ll say something like “it’s just old age.”
Since that call with Larry, I talk to her nearly every day. Today I called at 10:30 in the morning. The phone rang several times before anyone picked up. Seconds after it connected, I knew it was not my sister. “Hey. It’s me.”
Obviously, he recognized who the “me” was. I could hear him shouting like he was in another room, “Ethel are you up? It’s Annie calling. Didn’t you hear the dang thing ringing?”
I could imagine him holding the earpiece out to her. I heard grunting in the background like an old hound dog who’s blocking the doorway and someone has told him to get up and get out of the way.
In an ill-mannered voice Ethel muttered into the telephone, “HELLO. Who is calling at the crack of dawn?”
“Hey big sister. It’s me, Annie. Are you still in the bed? It is 10:30 in the morning. This is a normal time to call someone.”
“Oh Annie. It’s you. I’m up now. Give me a sec. I’ll be right back.”
I could hear shuffling of feet. After a few minutes the toilet flushed.
Leatha Marie 