The Arkansas Arts Council’s GetSmart! Learning series was the forum for a three-part virtual series, “Still I Rise: Women’s History Month Celebration,” during Women’s History Month 2020. The series included an author’s talk, featuring Robin White; a session centered around women sharing messages from their mother and other women in their lives, and during the final session, women were invited to share their stories of survival through the trauma of the global COVID season. Participants represented a diverse and intergenerational cross section of women throughout and outside the state of Arkansas, all sharing unique stories of the challenges, lessons, victories and dreams that impact their lives.
As a follow-up to the writing and sharing series, the Arkansas Arts Council held an open submission for women who had participated in the Women’s History Month Celebration and others, to write and submit their own short memoirs and personal stories for possible inclusion in the Messages from our Mothers and Other Women Anthology.
We are excited to share these stories with our audience! We hope you will enjoy reading them and share them with your own circles.
Coupons
By M.E. Kubit
Early Saturday morning, I’m waiting on the corner of Ellsworth and South Negley for my mum. It’s mid-October, and I’m thinking about running up to my apartment to grab a sweater when the wood-paneled Buick Electra station wagon makes its approach. The wagon is starting to have trouble shifting into reverse, so my mum doesn’t want to pull into the lot behind my building. Luckily, she’s stopped at the light, so I cross the street and get in the passenger side.
“It’s a little chilly. You should’ve grabbed a sweater,” my mum says.
“I’m fine, mum.” She looks at my hair. “Don’t start. I like it.”
“Just surprised at how red it is,” she says. Lucky for both of us, the light is green. She turns right onto Negley and heads towards Squirrel Hill.
“Thought we were going to go to the Giant Eagle on Center?” It’s been six, maybe eight weeks since I’ve seen her, although she phones every day. Please call me back, just so I know you’re alive. And, I couldn’t really say no when she offered to drive into Oakland from Bridgeville to buy me groceries. Even though the semester is only half over, I’m already out of money. My small graduate student stipend doesn’t go far.
“The Food Gallery has its dollar days sale, and I got some coupons for you.” I’m trying not to start an argument, so I nod as the wagon groans its way up Negley hill.
In the parking lot, it takes a while to find a spot. She’s looking for a space where she can pull through, so she won’t have to chance it. We circle. And, circle. “Mum, please!”
“Eh! I see one. Over there. There’s a good one.” She heads to the left end of the lot, where two opposing spaces are both open.
***
In the produce section, she helps me pick out oranges, a few apples and even offers to buy me Seckel pears. Now, I know she’s trying to be nice because they are my favorite and are always over both of our budgets. “Sure?”
“Yes. Just got paid from Shyrle.” In addition to secretarial work at the church, she does books at night for Shryle, who sells everything to furniture stores but the furniture: lights, fixtures, paintings, pictures, even rugs and knickknacks. It makes the ends meet, mum says. I used to spend hours placing tiny stickers with new prices over old prices onto the glossy color pages of the Look Book Shyrle shows to clients.
I place ten of the small pears into a bag and smile. In frozen foods, she doesn’t give me a hard time about buying Green Giant crumbles or the new Boca Burgers. Chicken, she’ll usually say. Can’t you at least eat some chicken? But not today. I load up the cart with pasta, oats, and cereal. I almost grab a second bag of coffee, but I’m mindful of the bill, so I place it back on the shelf.
“I’ve got a coupon for that. Buy one, get one free,” she says. So, I pop it into the cart, and she digs into her coupon slotted-holder and hands me the coupon. She snaps the rubber band back around the frayed holder.
“How bout we split them?” I ask as we move down the aisle towards the checkout. She nods, but then pushes on to the dairy aisle. “Mum. You know I’m not eating dairy anymore.”
She “Ehhs” at me and keeps pushing the cart. “Let’s go and see if they got that guava juice you love since you moved back from San Francisco,” and as we round the corner, in the center of the dairy aisle is the UPMC Flu Shot booth. “Look!” she points. “They got flu shots today.” She nods at me.
“I’ll just get one on campus, mum. Don’t have to today.”
“Didn’t that liver doctor say you gotta get one?”
I huff and correct her. “The hepatologist?” She looks away.
“And he said you need one and to call 24/7 if your eyes turn yellow.”
“I know what Dr. Slivka said, mum, and my eyes are clear. Look, clear.” She turns to me and looks at my eyes, touching my chin to angle my head.
“Yeah. Looks good. But since we’re here, mize well. We’ll both get one. And, there’s no wait.” She looks at the nurse, and they exchange knowing nods. “Flu shots, two!’ she says, too loud. I acquiesce and sit in the chair next to the nurse and start rolling up my sleeve.
“Wait” mum says to the nurse. I think I have my reprieve, and she says. “I’ve got two coupons.”
_______________
M. E. Kubit teaches in the School of Communication at the University of Central Arkansas and is a producer and story editor for the NPR regional broadcast, Arts & Letters Radio, recorded at KUAR 89.1 FM. She is also the creator and host of “The Write One,” a series of one-minute educational spots on improving writing and communication that air on UA Little Rock Public Radio. An advocate for the unsheltered and for domestic violence prevention and recovery, she has served on the board of Union Rescue Mission for the last three years and assists with grantsmanship. She lives in Little Rock, AR with her husband, J. Bradley Minnick.