Eleanor’s Enthusiasms

From his window, Edmund could see that something was happening up on his mother’s enormous stone patio. Manuel the gardener and his assistant were setting up folding clothes racks and several other staff seemed to be filling them with armloads of clothes on hangers. As Edmund wondered what was going on, his phone began playing the Beatles’ “Her Majesty,” his ringtone for his mother. On the other end, Eleanor started talking before he said hello. “Eddie, be honest, do I smell bad?”

This was a new one. Eleanor had always had short-lived worries and enthusiasms, sometimes lasting only a few hours, sometimes days, sometimes for months or a year, but she always eventually moved on. Recently, her obsessions had passed more quickly, and it was hard to tell if she’d lost interest or just forgotten about them.

She was still talking. “Last night I was reading about nonenal, which I don’t know if you know about, Eddie, but it makes old people smell bad. I thought about it all night and realized everything in my bedroom smelled bad. It’s overwhelming. I could barely breathe.”

Edmund slipped on his shoes. “I don’t think you smell bad, Mom, but I’ll be right there.” The short walk from his cottage across the lawn was enough time for him to confirm that the staff was moving his mother’s entire wardrobe from her closets upstairs onto the racks on the patio. He had never really realized how many clothes she had. As he passed Sofia, the housekeeper, she rolled her eyes at him, but it was an amused eye roll. She had worked for his mother for many years, and was used to the odd organizational tasks that came her way. 

Everyone who worked for her felt that way. Eleanor conducted her life and interests with an increasingly tangential energy, but she never wavered in her concern for those she loved, whether it be family, friends, or her paid staff. They were given generous salaries and bonuses, and Eleanor knew their names and the names of their families and could be counted on for help in emergencies. Even in her most muddled moments, she treated them with kindness, and they rewarded her with affection.

All the glass doors from the patio to the living room were wide open, and he found Eleanor sitting on a couch inside, sniffing at a sneaker from a large box of footwear. She looked up at him, concerned, and thrust the shoe at him. “Smell that, Eddie. Tell me the truth. How bad is it?”

Truthfully, Edmund detected a faint smell, but he believed it was more about feet than nonenol, whatever that was. “Your shoes smell like roses, Mama. Just like you. I don’t smell anything bad.”

“Really, Eddie? You aren’t just saying that?”

“Of course not. You always smell good. Maybe other people start smelling bad when they get older, but not you. I don’t think you should worry about this at all.”

“Are you sure?” Eleanor grabbed his hand and led him out onto the patio. “Try smelling this!” She started pulling a winter coat off the rack and struggled a little, and a maid untangled it and handed it to her. “Thank you, Lydia,” said Eleanor, and Edmund was startled when Lydia winked at him, signaling that this was nothing to worry about. 

Edmund took the coat from Eleanor and buried his face in it, sniffing loudly. Old wool and a faint whiff of rose perfume. She really did smell like roses. He told her so. “Fresh as a rosebud, Mama! And look how the breeze is airing everything out. A few minutes out here and everything will be like new.”

This caught Eleanor’s attention. Her eyes roamed around the laden clothes racks. “Lydia,” she said, “Would you please help me with those blouses? I want to move them apart so the breeze can get to them.” 

As they moved off, Edmund could hear a truck climbing the driveway out front. A delivery. Was this going to be a regular household order, or something Eleanor had ordered overnight for rush delivery? Probably the latter. He went out through the garage to where the Fed Ex driver was unloading boxes. One, two, three, four, five boxes. “Should I put these in the garage?” she asked cheerfully, sliding two of them on a dolly.

Eleanor, excited, came bursting through the front door. “Is that my soap?” She asked. “Did my soap come?”

“Looks like it,” said the smiling Fed Ex delivery person.

How many bars of soap does it take to fill five large cases, Edmund wondered. But more pressing was where to put them. He looked around the garage. Though it was a four-car garage with only two cars in it, the space was crowded with the leftovers of Eleanor’s previous interests. An easel and a rack of paintbrushes. A canoe. A cello. A large set of shelves filled with South American percussion instruments. A saddle, cowboy boots, and a riding helmet. A telescope. Hiking boots, ice skates, and a scooter. Three bowling balls. A steamer trunk, undoubtedly filled with a project, but he didn’t know what.

A plexiglass cabinet crowded with awards, statues and plaques, all engraved with her favorite causes from her nonprofit days: Children’s Literacy, Urban Gardens, Women Entrepreneurs, Food Security, Internet for All, Renewable Farming, Save the Forests, Save the Butterflies, Save the Whales. She’d done a lot of good with her high energy and vast fortune. She had a fleet of good lawyers who were keeping all the noble work going, even (and especially) after she moved on.

On the other wall, a stack of bee boxes for hives. A didgeridoo. An old fashioned popcorn machine. A full rock and roll drum set. In the back along the wall, two antique player pianos and a huge rack of music rolls. A partly-used case of peacock food. A flat file cabinet of architectural drawings. A wardrobe rack filled with costumes from a play she'd produced long ago. A small kiln. An entire electric train village in carefully labeled crates. And much more.

“Thanks so much,” he said, answered the delivery person’s question. “Yes, the garage. Could you help me move this steamer trunk over in front of the beehives? And then we’ll put the soap there on that wall.”

“Oooh, but I want it up in my bathroom!” exclaimed Eleanor. 

“Of course, you’re right, Mama. We’ll just start with one case, and leave the rest here for when you need it, okay?”

Manuel magically appeared in the doorway. “Can you take one of these boxes up to my mother’s bathroom and open it up for her?”

“Open it now!” demanded Eleanor excitedly. Presented with a small white box from inside the case, she tore it open and revealed a translucent orange bar of soap. “Ahhhh,” she said in satisfaction, holding it up to the light, smelling it, rubbing her finger over it. As Manuel carried the remainder of the case away and the Fed Ex deliverer efficiently stored the other five in the garage, she kept talking. “This is persimmon soap, Eddie! With green tea. It’s Japanese. It’s like a miracle, completely gets rid of the nonenol smell on your skin! It’s the only thing that works. I read it on the internet.” As they walked back toward the patio, she showed the soap to Sofia. “What does that smell like? Nothing, right?” 

At the open glass door, Edmund paused and looked at the lines of clothes racks up and down the patio. “Look at that, Mama! All your clothes are aired out! Fresh as springtime! Good job!”

Eleanor looked around with satisfaction. Sofia brought a coffee pot and two mugs out to the patio and set them down on a table between two chairs. Edmund kept talking. “Thank you, Sofia! Mama, shall we sit and have a cup of coffee while Sofia gets your clothes back in the closet?” Eleanor watched the staff perform the whole operation in reverse, gathering up armloads of clothes and carrying them inside, disassembling the racks, quickly returning the patio to its usual tranquil state.

At some point, Edmund noticed that his mother had stopped following the action, and was dreamily staring out at the garden. “Look at how beautiful, Eddie. We are so lucky to have a beautiful garden and Manuel to take care of it.” Manuel, who happened to be close enough to hear, smiled.

She pointed out various parts of the garden, the blooming flowers, the small orchard, the fish pond. Then gradually she fell silent. After awhile, Edmund noticed her sit up a little straighter. A little more energy seemed to enter her body. Her eyes grew sharper. 

“I have an idea, Eddie. I think we should start making our own mulch. I think you need a special container. I’ll order one. We can use it to fertilize a vegetable garden…” She looked around “Right over there. I want to grow tomatoes.” Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed, excited by her next new passion.