I believe in the power of words.

One of my favorite books is A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote. A dear friend recently gave me a copy of the version illustrated by Beth Peck. It is the story Truman Capote tells of when he was young and lived with relatives who did not much care for him, and a cousin, Cousin Sook, who cared for him very much. It is Christmas time.

“A woman with shorn white hair is standing at the kitchen window. She is wearing tennis shoes and a shapeless gray sweater over a summery calico dress. She is small and sprightly, like a bantam hen; but,due to a long youthful illness, her shoulders are pitifully hunched. Her face is remarkable–not unlike Lincoln’s, craggy like that, and tinted by sun and wind; but it is delicate, too, finely boned, and her eyes are sherry-colored and timid. “Oh my,” she exclaims, her breath smoking the windowpane, “it’s fruitcake weather!”

The person to whom she is speaking is myself. I am seven; she is sixty-something. We are cousins, very distant ones, and we have lived together–well, as long as I can remember. Other people inhabit the house, relatives; and though they have power over us, and frequently make us cry, we are not, on the whole, too much aware of them. We are each other’s best friend. She calls me Buddy, in memory of a boy who was formerly her best friend. The other Buddy died in the 1880’s, when she was a child. She is still a child.”

Every year they do various odd jobs to save money to buy ingredients to bake fruitcakes to give away at Christmas.

“These moneys we keep hidden in an ancient bead purse under a loose board under the floor under a chamber pot under my friend’s bed. The purse is seldom removed from this safe location except to make a deposit, or, as happens every Saturday, a withdrawal; for on Saturdays I am allowed ten cents to go to the picture show. My friend has never been to a picture show, nor does she intend to: “I’d rather hear you tell the story, Buddy. That way I can imagine it more. Besides, a person my age shouldn’t squander their eyes. When the Lord comes, let me see Him clear.” In addition to never having seen a movie, she has never: eaten in a restaurant, traveled more that five miles from home, received or sent a telegram, read anything except funny papers and the Bible, worn cosmetics, cursed, wished someone harm, told a lie on purpose, let a hungry dog go hungry. Here are a few things she has done, does do: killed with a hoe the biggest rattlesnake ever seen in this country (sixteen rattles), dip snuff (secretly), tame hummingbirds (just try it) till they balance on her finger, tell ghost stories (we both believe in ghosts) so tingling they chill you in July, talk to herself, take walks in the rain, grow the prettiest japonicas in town, know the recipe for every sort of old-time Indian cure, including a magical wart-remover.

Now, with supper finished, we retire to the room in a faraway part of the house where my friend sleeps in a scrap-quilt-covered iron bed painted rose pink, her favorite color. Silently, wallowing in the pleasures of conspiracy, we take the bead purse from its secret place and spill its contents on the scrap quilt. Dollar bills, tightly rolled and green as May buds. Somber fifty-cent pieces, heavy enough to weight a dead man’s eyes. Lovely dimes, the liveliest coin, the one that really jingles. Nickels and quarters, worn smooth as creek pebbles. But mostly a hateful heap of bitter-odored pennies.”

 

I adore this story. I want to mention just two things out of many  that have stayed in my heart and mind. First, I always think of dimes as the merriest coin! Capote’s description of money has always made me happy! I have a vision of a dime spinning on its edge, dancing in the light and ringing with music. In that picture of a spinning dime I can see the twinkling of merry eyes, or the spinning of stars in galaxies.

The other thing is the whole person of Cousin Sook. She was not influential in her small sphere. She had little power, did not go many places, or seemingly do very much. Yet her influence has spanned the years! She was kind. Kind to everyone she encountered. She fell into Capote’s heart and stayed there. And he had the wisdom to share her with us. She is beautiful because she is kind. This woman is an example I aspire to follow. She is full of the wisdom of living in the moment, and doing the best you can. It makes me happy to think of her, and she is a measuring stick for me to measure my own actions and words. Even though she was someone most people found easy to ignore and look over, she had the power of love. Fortunately for us, Truman shared her.

Cousin Sook never traveled more than five miles from her home. Cousin Sook has traveled countless miles because of Capote’s memories.

This is why I love reading. There are so many things to learn and store in your heart. So many different ways we influence each other. And you never know where your own words and actions will lead.

You can store the words of stories in your heart and draw on them like drawing water from a deep well. This has been one of the stories I draw on the most.

Merry Christmas every day! It’s fruitcake weather! The weather of kindness, love, and unselfconsciousness. The power of the innocent.