used some scandalous perfume Briney had given me for Christmas, got into a
lime-green négligé Aunt Carole had given me as a wedding present, checked dinner and
turned down the gas – I had it all planned – and was ready when Briney got home.
He let himself in; I was posed. He looked me up and down, and said, ‘Joe sent me. Is
this the right address?’
‘Depends on what you are looking for, sport,’ I answered in a deep sultry voice.
‘May I offer you the specialty of the house?’ Then I broke my pose and dropped my
act. ‘Briney! Dr Rumsey says that it is all right!’
‘You’ll have to speak more plainly, little girl. What is all right?’
‘Anything is all right. I’m all back together again.’ I suddenly dropped the
négligé. ‘Come on, Briney! Let’s ring the cash register!’
So we did, although it didn’t work that time – I didn’t catch again until early in
1901. But it was always delirious fun to try, and try we did, again and again. As
Mammy Della once told me, ‘Lawsy a mercy, chile, jes hunnuds an’ hunnuds a times
ain’t nuffin happen a tall.’
How did Mammy Della get in here? Brian found her, that’s how, when I started being
too big to do a washing easily. Our first house, a tiny one on 26th Street, was only
a short distance from darktown; Della lived within walking distance, and she would
work all day for a dollar and car fare. That she didn’t use the streetcar was
irrelevant; that dime was part of the bargain. Della had been born a slave and could
not read or write… but she was as fine a lady as I have ever known, with a heart
full of love for all who would accept her love.
Her husband was a roustabout with Ringling Brothers; I never laid eyes on him. She
continued to come to see me – or to see Nancy, `her’ baby – after I no longer needed
help, sometimes bringing along her latest grandchild… then she would drop her
grandchild in with Nancy and insist on doing my work. Sometimes I could nail her
down with a cup of tea. Not often. Later she went back to work for me with Carol.
Then with each baby, up to 1911; when `the Lord took her in His arms’. If there is a
heaven, Della is there.
Can it be that Heaven is as real as Kansas City to those who believe in Heaven? This
would fit, it seems to me, the World-as-Myth cosmology. I must ask Jubal about this,
when I get out of this jail and back to Boondock.
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Heinlein, Robert A – To Sail Beyond the Sunset.txt
In gourmet restaurants in Boondock ‘Potatoes a la Della’ are highly esteemed, as are
some others of her recipes. Della taught me a great deal. I don’t think that I was
able to teach her anything, as she was far more sophisticated and knowledgeable than
I in the subjects we had in common.
These were my first five `cash register’ babies:
Nancy Irene, 1 December 1899 or 5 January 1900
Carol (Santa Carolita, named for my Aunt Carole), 1 January 1902
Brian junior, 12 March 1905
George Edward, 14 February 1907
Marie Agnes, 5 April 1909
After Marie, I did not catch again until the spring of 1912. That one was my spoiled
brat and favourite child, Woodrow Wilson… who was later my lover, Theodore
Bronson… and much later, my husband, Lazarus Long. I don’t know why I didn’t catch
sooner, but it was not from lack of trying; Briney and I tried to ring the cash
register at every opportunity. We did not care whether it caught or not; we did it
for fun… and if we missed, that simply postponed those several weeks when we would
have to refrain before and after each birth. Oh, not refrain from everything; I
became quite skilled with hands and mouth and so did Briney. But for solid day-in
and day-out happy fun, we both preferred the old-fashioned sport, whether it was
missionary style or eighteen other ways.
Perhaps I could account for all the times I failed to catch if I had a calendar of