“Doctor Mary’s Iris”

Dr. Mary’s house is next door to our gallery. It’s a classic white house with black shutters and a wooden picket fence along the sidewalk. One summer there was a young boy whitewashing the fence, reminiscent of Tom Sawyer’s buddies. There are all sorts of flowers planted around the yard for every one to enjoy. Dr. Mary became a physician when women were not welcomed in the field, but despite the hurdles she must have faced she had a practice in the old white house for many years. Her name brings smiles to some of the older residents, not necessarily because of warm and fuzzy memories but thoughts of a strong willed, independent woman who let everyone know what she was thinking. There are a lot of stories…here are a couple if I can remember the details…

When our neighbor, Larry, was a child his uncle Willis would load up the back of his truck with youngsters for a weekend night trip to town to the movie house that used to be on Bridge Street. While the gang of kids lost themselves in the movie on the big screen, Willis would visit with his buddy, Speed Weber around the corner on Main. (Speedy, strangely enough, was my school bus driver in Corinth for a few years – a great guy) Willis would leave the truck parked there and when the movie was over they would all meet and go home. One night Willis and Speed must have been in an important conversation because the young people had to wait for a while in the back of the truck. As things go, they started rough housing and getting rowdy, when suddenly they looked up and there was ol’ Dr. Mary marching down the street in her nightclothes. They all immediately knew they were in deep trouble and became silent as she stomped up to them and bellowed, “What the HELL is going on here?!” I guess they received a short lecture on being considerate when others may be sleeping. She turned around and marched back around the corner to the sanctuary of her house. Larry said there wasn’t a peep to be heard from the wide-eyed bunch of formerly rambunctious youngsters.

A summer visitor, I don’t even remember who it was now, was in our gallery when Dr. Mary’s name came up. The woman laughed and said one time she was here and had a terribly sore throat. Since she was far away from her regular physician in the city she went to Mary. The doctor looked at her painful throat, then directly at her with piercing eyes and bluntly asked, “Do you drink?” The woman was mortified and thought, ‘Does she think I’m an alcoholic?’ When she got her composure she whispered, “Yes, sometimes.” Dr. Mary seemed pleased and said, “Good! Go home and fix yourself a good strong drink, put your feet up and let that family of yours take care of themselves for a while!”

Our town no longer has a resident physician, Dr. Mary has passed away, and the wooden picket fence has been replaced with a taller, less friendly looking vinyl barrier. But every year her flowers return. The snow has just melted off the south facing lawn and the bright colors of crocus and hyacinth will be peeking out of the ground any time now. They are always the first flowers to see every spring. Then later in the year the iris will bloom. There always seems to be one, like the flower in today’s painting, that peeks outside the fence instead of staying neatly contained with the others. Kind of reminds me of the independent individual who planted it many years ago.

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