Medicine For The Heart

A story by Marlene Mahaffey 
for her children and grandchildren 
in December of the year 2007

While watching television the other day,  I watched a old black and white movie from the 1930's and, while enjoying the entertainment, it took a sad turn, forcing the family to sell the home they had lived in all of their lives and moving.  As the movers finished loading all the family's possessions onto a truck and announced they they were finished, they heard,  “Wait!  Don’t forget this!” as a young man from the family handed them the gate from the old picket fence that had graced the yard of the humble home their entire lives.  He then added, “…and take good care of it.”.  

It was then that I felt a swell of emotion fill my eyes with tears as a flood of memories from my own childhood took me back to days of another white picket fence that graced my grandparent’s home.  In the movie, by including the gate of the fence with all the other treasures from the house, I realized "picket fences" must have meaning for many people.  Not just for me. 

We recently traveled to the little town of Woodruff, Arizona, where my grandparents raised their family, in order to rediscover some of these memories and feelings I once felt there.  I knew the pictures in my mind and the actual scene, would not be the same, but I was startled by the contrast as we drove up the, now, paved road.  

When we reached Grandma's house, we saw that the beautiful fence had been replaced with a barbed wire fence, now rusty and collapsing.  The little ditch was lined with tumbleweeds blown in from neighboring hills and farms.  Dusty, tired tamarisk and salt bushes grew along the little ditch where the white picket fence used to stand, and the big, beautiful Silver-leaf Maple tree that stood by the gate, shading half the yard, was gone.  The old house looked lonely and unkempt, no longer sporting its beautiful sandstone walls but painted, with its white surface that was peeling and cracked.

My heart jumped into a happier state when I looked through the old gate and saw the little flower bed, (below) made of petrified wood and cement by my grandfather, still there, reminding me of many happy memories, sitting with Grandma, making corn-cob dolls and baskets from the big leaves of the Cottonwood tree in which a generous, loving grandmother placed dried raisins and other bits treasure from her kitchen she knew I coveted.

(Below)  This is the only picture I have of the old picket fence.   Of course, my memories are not of it being in this broken down condition.  Never the less, it is evidence of its existence.  (In this picture, my grandmother, Lois Heward Gardner, was about 75 years old.)  

The movie spoke loudly to the connection of the old, white picket fence and home and all the memories that were developed there. It stood for unity of family, sacrifice, and peace, something that shut out fear because, behind that fence were people who lived and understood feelings, needs, and desires and always had time for listening and giving hugs and kisses. 

The white picket fence in our community, has been replaced by no fence at all, only heavy brick fences in 
back, to gain privacy from neighbors homes which sit side by side, almost on top of each other,  like a sea of roof-tops stretching for miles in every direction.

There is no more need for the original reason for having the fence, to keep roaming livestock out of yards and gardens. No need for the annual fence painting or the fence lined with roses and other flowers, nothing to hold sticks against while walking, listening to the rapping sound that it makes, no particular place to stand and talk over, during long walks to town.  And for me, it was the only house on the dusty road that had a white picket fence; the only house that had a gate almost too heavy for little hands to open; one of many houses that the open gate led down a sandstone walkway greeted by that unmistakable aroma of cedar burning in Grandma’s cook stove,…so recognizable, I knew I was home, at last.

The need for the fence may be gone, but outside my window stands the most beautiful white picket fence of all, made, not out of necessity, but of love.  It encompasses the front of our home, put there by a loving husband and devoted children who, two years ago, thought I was not going to live much longer.  Wanting to pack all my desires into a few short weeks and knowing I had always wished for a white, picket fence, they worked tirelessly toward building the fence, board by board, as well as updating the cleanliness and organization of my home.  Now, I have new memories, more precious than jewels, that will last into eternities.  

…and the memories of old and new join together to bring peace and understanding.

"Greater love hath no man than this..."

 May your Love and Sacrifice bring you the true joy of Christmas 
during the holidays and all year through.

My love always,
Mom, or Grandma, Mahaffey 

Back to Bill & Marlene's home page