It is December, stormy out. When windy on this sheltered harbor, I know it is very rough elsewhere, reminds me of an encounter Godfrey and I had, long ago on such a winter day…when we met up with Miss Crapper.
Long before Cash-points, Bank Cards and Machines, one waited at a wicket when one wished to withdraw money. I recall waiting, in such a line with Godfrey.
Ahead of us was an elderly lady, tiny of stature, well dressed for the wet weather, and prim. Godfrey would talk to anyone, talk of anything but beets, and the nice lady chatted, as we waited with him. They discussed the importance of dry feet in the rain, and she spoke very softly when the teller asked her name. She whispered…
“miss crapper”, Sally Turley, the bank clerk could not hear her.” miss crapper”, she whispered a tad louder, we could hear Miss Crapper clear and loud, there was shuffling and tapping, of bank noise, the line behind us was turning to a crowd.
There was muttering of people rude, comments regarding a hearing aid, nasty person in a foul mood. “YOU NEED TO SPEAK UP- said Sally, MISS CRAPPER- enunciated the now smiling elder lady.
Came then, breaking the tension, jingle of keys and coins in the pockets of Manager Brad, he wore important shoes, and a big pompadour, “Why hello, Miss Crapper”, he called across the room, finally somebody heard her.
She was a flush with humor, cheeky, I missed it completely what was not lost to Godfrey… “He reckoned, “she has been through this many times before, her merriment was evident”. “Or perhaps, it may be that Miss Crapper, simply has learned to speak softly.
“We sought Miss Crapper, in the finer local tea-houses, the bank, the sunny side of the library where there were nice tables. “Sadly, never to cross paths again, I feel we would have so enjoyed her story.
Godfrey wrote- If by chance your name be Outhouse, Gaylord, or Pfaff, Fifi or Crapper, remember to laugh, just laugh…