Her name is Evie.
Last I knew, she had retired, moved from the Northeast, and is now most likely terrorizing the people in and around Clearwater, Florida. Well, as much as a 4-foot, 10-inch old lady can terrorize, but believe me, unless she’s somehow lost her mojo, Evie can be a force with which to reckon! When I knew her years ago in Central New York, Evie was loud, pushy, and resolute. If she got an idea in her head, that was it. She would get her way, one way or another, and most of the time she did. This made her perfect for achieving success as an Avon lady. Not in any way to disparage Avon, their excellent products, nor the people who have marketed them so well for more than 135 years, but Evie was most decidedly not your “average Avon lady.” She was relentless in her pursuit of customers and even more relentless in getting the money due her. Whether she knew you well, or you were a friend of a friend, Evie nailed you, standing in your path like a cement roadblock, handing out her catalogs and frequently handing out samples. If you took one, she considered that a done-deal and whipped out her order pad. Evie was successful because most everyone ordered something just to get her to cease and desist. But perhaps her crowning moment came when Inez, a mutual friend, was getting married and all of us were invited. As Inez floated blissfully down the aisle of the church to the familiar wedding processional, Evie, who was sitting on an end pew, put her hand out and said, “You owe me for the Avon.” Shocked, Inez stopped in her tracks and shot back, “They don’t have pockets in wedding gowns!”
And then there was Merton. Merton was an older gentleman who lived in New Jersey some years ago, a poker-playing, cigar-chomping round little fellow who lived for the opening of the Monmouth Thoroughbred Racetrack every year. He was straight out of Damon Runyon stories, except he didn’t dress that well. Matter of fact, nothing ever matched. There was no difference between his “dress clothes” and his “leisure clothes,” and he thought nothing of wearing a striped shirt with checked pants. His socks hardly ever matched, and he rarely bought anything new because he saw no difference between the styles of the ’40s or the ’80s. To him a shirt was a shirt. It had buttons and a pocket, and probably even a few stains on the collar. He had one houndstooth checked sports jacket he would wear to every funeral, every wedding, and to closing day at the track. When asked by his cronies when they were well into their cocktails and feeling loose why he dressed like that, he would reply without any anger, “Like what?” Merton was a kind and generous man who would give anyone, even a stranger, the shirt off his back. Problem was, even a stranger wouldn’t take it.
Got someone in your family like Tony? I’m betting you do. Tony is an “authority,” as is his wife, Connie. They will quote the most preposterous facts at family dinners and events from the TV talk shows they binge-watch, always punctuated by, “It’s a fact. I heard it on Oprah.” Like this one uttered at the Thanksgiving table one year just after grace and before the carving of the bird began. “You know, three out of four turkeys sold in America have salmonella. It’s true. I heard it on the The View.” Here’s another gem: “The French government has an underground not too many people know about, and they’re plotting to kidnap our movie stars at the Cannes Film Festival. It’s a fact. Dr. Phil said it.” Connie swore that Maury Povich had a doctor attest to the fact that twins could be born of two different fathers, one white and one black, to which Tony yelled, “I heard it. It’s a fact!”
If you’re laughing, it’s because you identify. You probably have characters like these of your own, whether family or friends, whether still with us or long gone. But they are all the individual squares that comprise the quilts of our lives; the ones we talk about and laugh about at family reunions; the ones who add richness to our kitchen table stories and the ones who should never, ever be forgotten.
Rona Mann has been a freelance writer for The Sun for 19 years, including her “In Their Shoes” features. She can be reached at six07co@att.net or 401-539-7762.
The Link LonkMay 02, 2021 at 07:35AM
https://www.thewesterlysun.com/opinion/guest-columns/in-my-own-shoes-great-characters-we-should-never-forget/article_0fc4503a-aaf5-11eb-96ca-f724c040abd1.html
In My Own Shoes: Great characters we should never forget - The Westerly Sun
https://news.google.com/search?q=forget&hl=en-US&gl=US&ceid=US:en
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