A short summary of Eudora Welty’s Why I Live at the P.O.. This free synopsis covers all the crucial plot points of Why I Live at the P.O. Why I Live at the P.O. and Other Stories has ratings and 48 reviews. Judith said: Repeating myself I love Eudora Welty’s writing, especially her h. Why I Live at the P.O.. Welty, Eudora. Primary Category: Literature / Fiction. Genre: Short Story Primary Source. The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty.
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Why I Live at the P. Of course I went with Mr. Whitaker first, when he first appeared here in China Grove, taking “Pose Yourself” photos, and Stella-Rondo broke us up. Told him I was one-sided. Bigger on one side than the other, which p.k a deliberate, calculated falsehood: Stella-Rondo is exactly twelve months to the day younger eudorw I am and for that reason she’s spoiled. She’s always had anything in the world she wanted and then she’d throw it away. Papa-Daddy gave her this gorgeous Add-a-Pearl necklace when she was eight years old and she threw it away playing baseball when she was nine, with only two pearls.
So as soon as she got married and moved away from home the first thing she did was separate! This photographer with the popeyes she said she trusted. Came home from one of those towns up in Illinois and to our complete surprise brought this child of two. Mama said she like to made her drop dead for a second. Stella-Rondo just calmly takes off this hat, I wish you could see it. She says, “Why, Mama, Shirley-T.
Papa-Daddy’s Mama’s papa and sulks. She said, “Sister, I don’t need to tell you you got a lot of nerve and always did have and I’ll thank you to make no future reference to my adopted child whatsoever. Of course I noticed at once she looks like Mr. She looks like a cross between Mr.
Why I Live at the P.O. – Wikipedia
So the first thing Stella-Rondo did at the table was turn Papa-Daddy against me. He was trying to cut up his meat. Papa-Daddy is about a million years old and’s got this long-long beard. Mama says he is, he says he isn’t. So he says, “Have I heard correctly? You don’t understand why I don’t cut off my beard? It was the farthest thing from my mind! Stella-Rondo sat there and made that up while she was eating breast of chicken.
Which liive I got tue through my influence with the government. I says, “Oh, Papa-Daddy,” I says, “I didn’t say any such of a thing, I never dreamed it was a bird’s nest, I have always been grateful though this is the next to smallest P.
Anybody in the world could of heard you, that had ears. So I pulled my napkin straight back through the napkin ring and left the table. As soon as I was out of the room Mama says, “Call her back, or she’ll starve to death,” but Papa-Daddy says, “This is the beard I started growing on the Coast when Ay was fifteen years old.
So Papa-Daddy says, “I am going out and lie in the hammock, and you can all sit here and remember my words: I’ll never cut off my beard as long as I live, even one inch, and I don’t appreciate it in you at all.
It would be a holiday. It wasn’t five minutes before Uncle Rondo suddenly appeared in the hall in one of Stella-Rondo’s flesh-colored kimonos, all cut on the bias, like something Mr.
Whitaker probably thought was gorgeous. Where are you going?
Papa-Daddy will certainly beat you on the head if you come within forty miles of him. He thinks I deliberately said he ought to cut off his beard after he got me the P.
Papa-Daddy must of gone stone deaf. What he’d really done, he’d drunk another bottle of that prescription. He does it every single Fourth of July as sure as shooting, and it’s horribly expensive.
Then he falls over in the hammock and snores. So he insisted on zigzagging right on out to the hammock, looking like a half-wit. Papa-Daddy woke up with this horrible yell and right there without moving an inch he tried to turn Uncle Rondo against me. I heard every word wby said. Oh, he told Uncle Rondo I didn’t learn to qelty till I was eight years old and he didn’t see how in the whu I ever got the mail put up at the P.
And he said on the other hand he thought Stella-Rondo had a brilliant mind and deserved credit for getting out of town. But that’s what Papa-Daddy likes about a hammock. So Uncle Rondo was too dizzy to get turned against me for the time being. He’s Mama’s only brother and is a good case of a one-track mind. Just then I heard Stella-Rondo raising the upstairs window. While she was married she got this peculiar idea that it’s cooler with the windows shut and locked.
So she has to raise the window before she can make a soul hear her outdoors. So she raises the window and says, “Oh! Uncle Rondo and Papa-Daddy didn’t even look up, but kept right on with what they were doing.
I had to laugh. I flew up the stairs and threw the door open!
Why I Live at the P.O. and Other Stories
I says, “What in the kive world’s the matter, Stella-Rondo? Naturally, it’s so suffocating-hot in the house, with all the windows shut and locked, everybody who cares to stay in their right mind will have to go out and get in the hammock before the Fourth of July is over. Whitaker took eudorz dozen photographs of me in it,” says Stella-Rondo.
I simply declare that Uncle Rondo looks like a fool in it, that’s all,” she says. And I said to Stella-Rondo, “I think I would do well not to criticize so freely if I were you and came home with a two-year-old child I had never said a word about, and no explanation whatever about my separation. So I merely slammed the door behind me and went down and made some green-tomato pickle. Somebody had to do it.
Of course Mama had turned both the Negroes loose; she always said no earthly power could hold one anyway on the Fourth of July, so she wouldn’t even try. It turned out that Jaypan fell in the lake and came within a very narrow limit of drowning.
So Mama trots in. Lifts up the lid and says, “H’m! Not very good for your Uncle Rondo in his precarious condition, I must say. Or poor little adopted Shirley-T. I says, “Well, Stella-Rondo had better thank her lucky stars it was her instead of me came trotting in with that very peculiar-looking child. Now if it had been me that trotted in from Illinois and brought a peculiar-looking child of two, I shudder to think of the reception I’d of got, much less controlled the diet of an entire family.
Whitaker in the first place and didn’t go up to Illinois to live,” says Mama, shaking a spoon in my face. But I said she couldn’t convince me though she talked till she was blue in the face. Then I said, “Besides, you know as well as I do that that child wby not adopted.
I says, “Why, Mama, Stella-Rondo had her just euudora sure as anything in this world, and just too stuck up to admit it. Went to her grave denying the facts of life,” I remind Mama.
Just then something perfectly horrible occurred to me. Do you realize,” I says, “that she hasn’t spoken one single, solitary word to a human being up to this minute? This is the way she looks,” I says, and I looked like this. Well, Mama and I just stood there and stared at each other. Not even the grace to get up off the bed. Stella-Rondo says, “Can she what? In another second the house would of fallen down.
Then she turns on me. Run upstairs this instant and apologize to Stella-Rondo and Shirley-T.
Why I Live at the P.O.
Now that she’s proved she is, why, I have nothing further to say. She ran right upstairs and hugged the baby. She believed it was adopted. Stella-Rondo hadn’t done a thing but turn her against me from upstairs while I stood there helpless over the hot stove.
I must say that Uncle Rondo has been marvelous to me at various times in the past and I was completely unprepared to be made to jump out of xt skin, the way it turned out. Once Stella-Rondo did something perfectly horrible to him broke a chain letter from Flanders Field and he took the radio back he had given her and gave it to me.
For six months we all had to call her Stella instead of Stella-Rondo, or she wouldn’t answer. I always thought Uncle Rondo had all the brains of the entire family.