By HARRIET PROTHRO PENROD
During Part II of our “Lunch” at Biscotti’s – we both had the delicious chicken and spinach crepes – Joanne Sigler said, “I want to read you an article I’ve written, and you be the judge as to whether I should submit it for publication.”
Joanne Sigler is a storyteller.
For seven and a half years, she wrote a weekly column in The Times called “Remember When,” which included unforgettable memories of growing up in Shreveport.
“That was the most rewarding thing – besides having my two children – that I’ve ever done,” she says about the column that ran from 2008-2116.
Joanne laughs when she starts to tell a story about her daughters – Anne and Liz.
“Their daddy’s mother was mad at me because I produced two girls. He was a farmer and farmers have boys. Their daddy and my OB-GYN were playing bridge one night and got into a huge argument.
“My doctor said, ‘Ben, it’s the man who decides the sex.’ They got into a knock-down-drag-out fight about it.
‘That’s not true.’
‘But I’m a doctor.’
‘I don’t give a &%$#. I’m not going to take responsibility for those two little girls.’
“But, of course, he ended up loving them to pieces.”
When Liz and Anne were seven and nine, respectively, their father passed away and Joanne would be a single mother until she met Orvis Sigler, to whom she was married for 46 years.
After a few more stories about “her girls,” Joanne takes an envelope out of her purse, opens the typed pages and says, “This is a patriotic article.”
What she shares with me – beautifully written and read with emotion – is her story:
Coming home from church and seeing her father turning on the radio as everyone sat around and listened. In her brand-new navy blue taffeta dress, she listened as President Roosevelt told the nation we were at war.
“I thought my world was going to come to an end at nine years old,” she reads.
During the war, Joanne earned her allowance of 50 cents a week by collecting bacon grease from her neighbors and selling it to the local butcher at the A&P.
“He turned it in and that helped make glycerin for bombs,” she continues.
Being introduced to the Statue of Liberty on her first visit to New York City with her parents in 1949. The next time Joanne went to New York, she was singing with the Centenary College Choir.
“Our song was composed of the inscription written on the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty,” she says.
Joanne has tears in her eyes as she tells the story of the Statue of Liberty and recites the Preamble to the Constitution.
She finishes reading the article and looks over to get my reaction.
“What do you think?” asks Joanne, who turns 91 this week. “It could run around the Fourth of July.”
Then, with a laugh, she says: “But I might be dead by the Fourth of July.”
I don’t think so. She has too many more stories to tell.
Contact Harriet at sbjharriet@gmail.com
