Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

MARCH 30, 1986

Ed Couch had picked up Big Momma from the nursing home on Easter morning, and she had spent the day with them. Evelyn had wanted to invite Mrs. Threadgoode, but Ed said that it might upset Big Momma, and God knows we didn’t want Big Momma upset; as it was, she might not go back. So Evelyn had cooked this huge meal for just the three of them, and after dinner, Ed and Big Momma went in the den and watched television.

Evelyn had planned to ride back to the nursing home with them so she could at least say hello to Mrs. Threadgoode, but her son had called her long distance, just as they were headed out the door. Big Momma, who had whined all through dinner about how she hated Rose Terrace, was dressed and ready to go, so Evelyn told Ed to go on without her.

Consequently, it had been two weeks since she had seen her friend, and when she did, she got a surprise …

“I went to the beauty shop and got my hair fixed for Easter. How do you like it?”

Evelyn didn’t know what to say; someone had dyed Mrs. Threadgoode’s hair bright purple.

“Well, you got your hair fixed.”

“Yes. I always want to look my best for Easter.”

Evelyn sat down and smiled like nothing was wrong. “Who did it for you, darling?”

Mrs. Threadgoode said, “Well, believe it or not, it was a student from the beauty college over in Birmingham. Sometimes they come out here and do our hair for free, just to get a little practice. Mine was a tiny little thing and she worked so hard, I tipped her fifty cents. Now, where else in the world can you get your hair shampooed, colored, and set for fifty cents?”

Evelyn was curious. “How old was the girl?”

“Oh, she was a full-grown woman, only she was tiny, she had to stand on a box while she did my hair. I’d say she was about two inches away from being a midget. Of course, I don’t let any handicap like that bother me, and I love a midget.… I wonder whatever happened to that little midget that sold cigarettes?”

“Where?”

“On the radio and TV. They used to dress him up like a bellboy, sold Phillip Morris cigarettes. You remember!”

“Oh yes. I know who you’re talking about now.”

“Oh, I used to get the biggest kick out of him. I always wished he would come to Whistle Stop so I could sit him on my lap and play with him.”

Evelyn had brought dyed eggs, candy corn, and Easter chocolates, and told Mrs. Threadgoode that they would celebrate all over again this week since she had not been with her on the actual day. Mrs. Threadgoode thought that was a fine idea, and told Evelyn that candy corn was her favorite and that she liked to bite the white tips off first and save the rest for later, and she proceeded to do so as she reported on Easter.

“Oh Evelyn, I wish you could have been out here. The nurses hid eggs all over. We put some in our pockets and in our rooms and the entire third grade from Woodlawn came out and they were the cutest things, running up and down the hall. Oh, they had the grandest time! And it meant so much for these old people out here, most of them are just starved to see youngsters. I think it cheered everybody up. Old people need to see children every once in a while,” she whispered confidentially. “It lifts their spirits. Some of these real old ladies they have out here just sit in their wheelchairs all hunched over … but when the nurses give them a baby doll to hold, you’d be surprised at how they just sit right up, holding on to their dolls. Most of them think it’s their own babies they’ve got.

“And guess who else came out here Easter?”

“Who?”

“That weather girl from the television station … I forget her name, but she’s famous.”

“Well, that must have been very nice.”

“Oh, it was … but, you know what?”

“What?”

“It just dawned on me. Not one famous person ever came to Whistle Stop … except Franklin Roosevelt and Mr. Pinto, the criminal, but they were both dead at the time, so it doesn’t count. Poor old Dot Weems never did have anything exciting to write about.”

“Who was he?”

Mrs. Threadgoode was surprised. “You never heard of Franklin Roosevelt?”

“No, Mr. Pinto.”

“You never heard of Mr. Pinto?”

“Pinto? You mean like a pinto pony?”

“No honey, like a pinto bean. Seymore Pinto. He was a famous murderer!”

“Oh … no, well, I guess he was before my time.”

“Well, you’re lucky, because he was a mean somebody. I think he was half Indian, or maybe he was Eye-talian, but whatever he was, you wouldn’t want to meet up with him on a dark night, I can tell you that.”

Mrs. Threadgoode finished her candy corn and bit the head off one of her chocolate bunnies. She looked at it. “Sorry, mister.” Then she said, “You know, Evelyn, I guess I’m the only one out here that’s having myself two Easters. It may be a sin, but I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”