Blind Acrimonious Mary - Nez

 Blind Acrimonious Mary

By Nez Nesmith

Mary knows people by their voices and footsteps. She sees movement in tones of black and gray, if she sees anything at all. And sometimes when the light is especially bright, she sees white. She doesn’t like bright. That doctor shined that light in her eyes and made her mad. It hurt. She hasn’t always been this way. When she was younger she saw colors, all the colors, and the grass and trees and fields and cows, and everything else, but didn’t really notice them. But the colors gradually faded to gray, then darker, now almost black. Mary is blind. Cataracts. Nothing to be done about it. She hates the blindness. She wishes she could see. Anything. She can’t. Mary feels sorry for herself.   

Mary moves around the house using her cane. She really can’t go outside by herself anymore because the ground isn’t level, and the road has potholes. She will stumble and fall. She can handle the front porch and steps okay, but doesn’t, except for church on Sundays. There’s nowhere else for her to go.  

Mary is not nice. She is acrimonious. She complains. Blindness made her a helpless shut-in. She hates that. She gets her dress on straight. It has buttons in front. She can get her apron on, it has pockets for stuff, but she doesn’t cook anymore. Can’t handle the wood cook stove. She needs help with most things. Too many things. This house doesn’t work for a sightless person. Especially a sightless old woman in her late 80s. 

In her rocker near the front door Mary sits silently, slightly rocking and listening, always listening. She yells for someone to come help her. Other times the radio is blaring that awful stuff the kids call music. When the weather’s good her granddaughter will chase the kids outside and change to radio to ‘Queen for a Day’ or the ‘Arthur Godfrey Show’ or ‘Ted Mack’s Amateur Hour”. That’s better. She never smiles. Best is when granddaughter asks if she wants the Bible. Charleston Heston’s spoken word recordings of the Bible play on the phonograph. At times granddaughter will play church hymns on the phonograph for her. Dale Evans is her favorite. She likes Ethel Waters, Mahalia Jackson, Stuart Hamblen, and Tennessee Ernie Ford, too. 

Her caregiver granddaughter has kids, everybody In the house with her. Those two boys drive Mary crazy, always into something, making messes and fighting. They’re noisy. And they learned to avoid her cane swinging at them. She hates that they live with her, and they know it. They all know it. The girl isn’t much better. She argues and changes the radio to that awful Elvis Presley music. And, sings, too. Turn that awful stuff off and go away. 

Mary is half-Cherokee, born in Georgia, just after the War Between the States, raised in Arkansas, married and raised her kids there, then they migrated to Texas, to Idaho and finally, to Washington. She has seven younger siblings that she hasn’t seen or visited for at least 35 years. She used to write with some, but she can’t write or read anymore. Tried someone else writing down what she wanted, but no privacy. Hated it. Quit. No interest in Braile. When the phone was first installed Mary talked to one brother for ten minutes. Hung up and cried. Never used the phone again. Never cried again. 

Mary is angry. Always. Been that way since before she noticed her sight fading, about twenty years ago. She raised six kids and the granddaughter. This is the thanks she gets? Her kids say she was always angry and mean, too. Mary is acrimonious toward most, except at church. There for about an hour each week she’s civil. She considers herself to be religious.  

Mary doesn’t swear or cuss, but she might as well. The preacher used to visit frequently, at least monthly. The preacher quit visiting several years ago. Except for her eldest son her kids don’t come often either, not since her husband died. Her son comes by once a month or so.  Some others come by on holidays Thanksgiving or Christmas, and Mother’s Day and birthdays. Mary doesn’t reminisce about her life or her upbring, nor their upbringing. She complains. They provide monetary help and gifts they think she might like. She complains. They go home. 

The silence and noise continue. The Bible plays. Sing on Elvis.

Nez Nesmith

September 2023