Originally mailed on May 5, 1997

I am happy to be able to tell you that I received a phone call from Louella the other day. "Hey, Harriet," she said. "How are you doing?"

I said, "I'm doing very well, How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I finished exams last week. I start full-time work again week after next, so in the meantime I'm just going to take it easy."

"Good, good," I said, "That's probably the best thing."

"Yeah," she said. Long pause. "And how's Nona?"

I said, "Nona is fine. And you know Grandma is fine."

"Yeah, I saw her the other day. She's a spry old soul, but I think she's slowed down a little this winter."

"Do you? I think so, too. I guess she's entitled to, at her age."

"Yeah. Hey, Harriet, I was calling you for a reason."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Um, Sam is bringing the boys back to stay with me this Friday. For good, I mean. They're coming home. And I was wondering if on Saturday you and Nona would like to come for a barbecue in the evening, you know, to celebrate. Miriam says she'll come."

"Louella, we wouldn't miss it. What time? Should we bring anything?"

"No, I'll provide all the food. But if you came at around 3:30 you could help fix dinner or entertain the boys."

So at 3:30 on Saturday Nona and I walked over to Louella's, picking up Grandma and Flopsy on the way. The first fifteen minutes at Louella's were chaos; the dogs were happy to see each other, the boys were happy to see the dogs, we were happy to see the boys. There was much jumping up, licking of faces, and rubbing of ears all round, and when the dust settled the dogs were chasing each other happily around the yard, Grandma was in the boys' room admiring their new ant farm, Nona was out front checking on Louella's tulips, and Louella and I were standing a bit awkwardly in the kitchen, watching the dogs through the sliding glass door as they wrestled and played tug-of-war with a rope bone.

"Louella," I said, "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Thanks. I do feel better. Fragile, but better."

I said, "Therapy is helping?"

Louella said, "And the meds they've got me on. I may owe my functionality more to pharmaceuticals than to psychology."

I said, "Well, there's nothing wrong with that."

Louella said, "Isn't there? I still feel like I just let things get the better of me and I should have been able to handle it all."

I said, "But you know better, don't you? Taking meds for depression is no worse than taking antibiotics for an infection."

Louella sighed. "I suppose so."

I said, "I know so. I'm just happy that the boys are home and you're home, and I'm happy to be with you. I've missed you a lot."

Louella hugged me, sideways, with just one arm, still looking at the dogs taking turns pinning each other to the ground. "Yeah."

Grandma and the boys came downstairs; the boys headed outside to throw sticks for the dogs, and Grandma and I got busy helping Louella in the kitchen. Nona came in a few minutes later and declared, while washing dirt off her hands, that except for a few weeds, which she had pulled, the flower beds were in lovely shape. Louella said, "Oh, no, you didn't pull the weeds already? I wanted you to show me which ones they were!"

Nona laughed. "You can take a look later. Everything still in the ground is a flower; everything that's flung on the grass is a dead weed."

Louella said, "Maybe you can show me another time, if there are more weeds later."

Nona said, "As sure as the sun comes up in the morning, there will be more weeds later. I'll show you. In the meantime, I'm going to show you how to make Harriet's special potato salad, which has been a closely guarded secret until now."

I said, "No, Nona! You took a vow when we moved in together! You promised not to give away my cooking secrets, and I promised not to tell anyone you have an autographed picture of Barry Manilow hanging on the inside of your closet door where you can see it every morning when you get dressed."

Nona said, "No, honey, I didn't promise not to give away your recipes. I promised not to reveal that you ask the cats' opinions on all important decisions, and that they always outvote you."

I said, "We were unanimous about moving in with you -- even after we found out you spend every Saturday afternoon watching the week's episodes of The Guiding Light on tape and eating mint chocolate chip ice cream."

Nona said, "You mean especially when you found out I spend Saturday afternoons with GL and mint choco-chip. You have yet to turn down a bowl -- and that book you keep in your lap isn't fooling anybody. I mean, really, Harriet. Thirteen weeks to read Harriet the Spy?"

"It's a childhood classic! I'm savoring it as I relive my youth! But, I admit, I did get a little sucked in by the show around the time Ross found out he was the father of only one of his wife's 'identical' twins. And just before we left to come here today, Annie pushed herself down the stairs at Amanda's cocktail party to try and frame Reva for the death of her unborn baby. It's exciting stuff."

Louella was chopping potatoes. She said, "Reva's on the show? I thought she was dead."

"Oh, no" Grandma said. "She only got amnesia when her car went off the bridge. She was living with the Amish in Goshen for five years, and showed up again just after Josh, having finally accepted her death, had married Annie."

I said, "Grandma, you watch a soap opera? I'm shocked!"

Grandma said, "You just read my diary after I die, Harriet. I've got secrets that will curl your hair."

Nona said, "My hair's already curly, Miriam. What will reading your diary do to me?"

Grandma said, "I shudder to think."

Louella said, "Wait a minute, let's get back to the show. Annie is Josh's wife, and she's pregnant, but-"

Just then the doorbell rang. Nona said, "I'll get that, Louella. And you can borrow my tapes if you want and see for yourself what's up."

Louella said, "Cool, I'm off work this coming week."

Grandma said, "You know, I can remember Guiding Light when it was a fifteen-minute show on the radio."

I said, "No you can't!"

She said, "I sure can, Harriet. I'm an old woman."

Nona came into the kitchen, trailed by a little girl and her mother. "Louella," the woman said, "Amy saw that Mark was home and wanted to come play. I thought I'd bring her myself to make sure it will be OK."

Louella said, "Oh, sure. The boys are out back with the dogs, Amy." And to the mother again, "Amy is welcome to stay to dinner, too. We're grilling burgers."

Amy's mother said, "She'll like that. I swear, those two are so close. I think they're boyfriend-girlfriend. It's so cute."

Louella glanced out the window, to where Amy had Mark pinned to the ground under a heap of little brother and dogs. "You know, Ann," she said after a moment, "I'm aware the kids aren't too young to be curious about each other. I remember my own childhood well enough. But my boys are eight and six years old. It's too soon for any of us to be sure they're heterosexual. I want them to make a healthy transition to their adult sexuality, free, as much as I can manage it, from cultural pressure and prejudices, and you can help me by avoiding boyfriend-girlfriend remarks in the future, especially where the kids might hear you."

Ann looked a little confused. "Well," she said, but didn't continue. Then, "I'll pick Amy up around 8:30, if that's OK."

Louella said, "That will be fine."

After Ann left. Nona said, "Louella! Way to go!"

Louella said, "I have wanted to say something like that to her for a long time. I just hope I haven't spoiled things for Mark and Amy. They are very good friends, and if her mom is a homophobe she may start discouraging Amy from coming over."

Nona said, "Nah, the mom seemed OK. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. But I would worry about all the very hungry people hanging out in your kitchen."

We set to chopping and peeling and grilling with a gusto, and before I knew it we were lounging on Louella's patio, replete with burgers, chips, potato salad, and store-brand orange pop. The kids found some of leftover sparklers from last Fourth of July in a kitchen drawer and were lighting them from the embers in the grill. We kept telling them they should wait for dark to see them at their best, but the kids would say, "Just one more, and we'll have plenty left," but they were out of sparklers while the sun was just going down. Nona helped the kids toast marshmallows for us all (I ate three), until Amy's mom came to fetch her.

I said, "We should go in, too. It's getting cold out here."

Louella said, "No, let's stay out. We've got bats in the attic and I want to watch for where they come in and out so I can seal the holes. See, I already put up a bathouse on the garage for them to move into. Do you mind watching with me?"

"I don't mind," I said, "but will you be warm enough, Grandma?"

Grandma said, "I like to watch the twilight and dusk, Harriet, but I will need a sweatshirt."

I went inside and up to Louella's room to find a sweatshirt, and when I came out all the outside lights had been turned off. I handed the sweatshirt to Grandma and joined Nona in Louella's big hammock. She put her arm around me and Mark crawled in on top of us. Sam was already asleep in his mother's lap. Hot Rod turned around three times and made a ball under Grandma's chair, while Flopsy leaned against her knees for a good ear rub. And thus we sat in silence, listening to the birds call each other together into flocks to settle for the night, and watching the bats wing in and out of Louella's attic, until full dark.

Love,

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