Family Life with R. D. Cole III

“I have three daughters,” Mama said, “But, it would be a lot better if each daughter had three Mamas.” Our family friend, R.D. Cole III, was visiting this afternoon. Mama brought cokes with ice into the living room for R. D. and herself. At 5 years old, I followed Mama with the napkins. The fan on the living room floor stirs the summer air. The drawn curtains at the western window keep out the sun.

I am the youngest of her three daughters. As I sit beside Mama on the sofa, R.D. says, “Lois, tell your Mama what you want her to do. She has a coke.” He knows that whenever Mama sits down to visit, I think of a request that requires her to get up. Mama’s wish for each of her three girls to have three mothers is her reply to R.D’s observation, after many years of visiting us.

R.D. also believes that Daddy doesn’t appreciate Mama. Therefore, he makes it his duty to be sure Mama gets one compliment a year. He picks Christmas morning to give her this one compliment. When the phone rings Christmas morning, my sister Mary and I yell, “That’s R.D., Mama.” And, it usually is. (However, the Christmas after R.D. died, tears came into her eyes when the phone rang that morning.)

R.D. and Daddy were “Bell House Boys.” The Bell House was a fashionable boarding house for men in downtown Atlanta. Daddy graduated from Tech in 1919 and was an architect. R.D. graduated from Tech as an electrical engineer, but never worked. He said, “It was the Depression. Other people needed the jobs.” (His family owned a cotton mill, north of Atlanta. R.D. lived on this inheritance.)

Mama did R.D.’s income taxes. Instead of charging him, she had him do repairs and improvements around the house. He also bought her things she wanted, like a toaster or a clock radio. He joked that he had two prices for his work. The higher price was when Daddy supervised. R.D. itemized Daddy’s tools at $1.80 and used his own tools.

During World War II, R.D. shared his ration books with Mama. A ration book was needed to buy shoes. Mama took Mary and me to the shoe store. We took turns standing on the x-ray machine to see the bones inside the shoe. Sugar was also rationed. I begged for a bucket of “yuk-yuks,” my word for suckers. I was excited when R.D. came into the living room, holding a little tin sand bucket full of suckers. That candy was hmm-good!

Sometimes R.D. would arrive, holding out a small paper bag. “Just put your hand in, don’t look in,” he’d say. One time I pulled out an antique chain coin purse. Another time I got a pin. Sometimes, R.D. would have Mary and me knot a dime in the corner of his handkerchief for good luck before a poker game. While we knotted, he drank coffee in the cracked cup Mama kept at his request.

R. D. Cole III, a life-long bachelor, enhanced our family life, giving Mary and me another perspective on life. I never read about a man like him in Dick and Jane.