Oh, Yes! They Call Him the Streak

My Mom and I were always close. She had such a sweet personality and that's why people liked to be around her. I was no exception and I tried to visit her every day – even if just for a few minutes.  

We would shop together, cook together, visit friends together, sew together, and definitely talk... talk... talk... together. 

She was a night-owl like me - or should I say – me, like her. She rarely went to bed before one or two in the morning and sometimes later than that.  

My mom was an excellent cook and my mouth still waters when I think about her rice and gravy (Mmmm!), fried chicken, fresh fried fish (caught and cleaned by my dad), pot roast with onions and carrots and potatoes (no one ever made it better), mac and cheese, and - oh yes - hot boiled peanuts (fresh green peanuts, boiled for hours to perfection). 

One balmy summer evening, we decided she would come to our apartment, make an evening of it, and boil a pot of peanuts. 

She came over around 11:30 that night and we pulled out a big ole pot, filled it with green peanuts, and started cooking them. We could hardly wait till they were finished.  

We lived in an apartment on the second floor with a door that led out to a back deck with a stairway that led down to the green area out back. Since it was such a beautiful evening, I decided to leave the sliding glass door open with the screen pulled closed but not locked - big mistake! 

Jeannie, what were you thinking? 

Obviously, I was NOT thinking! And so, thinking about it no more, I went back into the living room to join my mom. 

The peanuts had begun to boil so I decided to go give them a stir. I did this about every 30 minutes or so. 

I was standing at the stove facing the deck when something caught my attention out the corner of my eye. Not moving my head at all but just moving my eyes a little... to try to get a glimpse of whatever it was... 

I spotted something in the shadows. 

There, crouched down on the stairs, was a guy. And all I could see of him was a little of his face and the top of his head. 

At that point, I hadn't had time to take it all in. All I could think about doing was to carry on a conversation with my mom and also pretend there were lots of other people in the living room with her – both men and women.  

“Hey mom,” I said, “I need some of those strong men in there to come help me pick up this heavy pot of delicious peanuts!” 

I walked back into the living room to let my mom know what was really going on and to carry on a conversation with those “make-believe guests.” Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't come in the back door if he thought other people were there in the apartment. 

As I walked back into the kitchen, I saw him turn around and quietly tip-toe his way back down the steps. At that point, I scooted over to the sliding glass door, pulled it shut, and locked it. 

“Whew, I'm glad that worked,” I thought to myself. 

I went to the light switch and cut off all the lights in the kitchen and opened the window curtains. 

I saw him. 

He was walking away, cutting through hedges that were growing in between the two apartment buildings. 

There was a street light next to our building. He stepped out into the light. 

“Brave soul, wasn't he?” 

His attire left a little to be desired, for all he had on was a red plaid shirt. That was all - no shoes, no socks, no pants, no underwear! 

“Hmm... Wonder what he was planning?” I thought to myself. 

No, I did not call the police. Stupid? Yes! 

As I thought about the incident later, I should have done just that, because the police may have been able to catch him and possibly prevented the situation from occurring again. 

Hindsight is 20-20, right? 

My mom and I laughed about that “peeping Tom” memory for many years after. Thank goodness it turned out OK, but who knows what could have happened had he not decided to leave. 

Do I leave the backdoor open anymore? Not on your life! 

We still continued to boil peanuts together for years. I can still taste them - just enough salt and so tender they would melt in your mouth. Our old local icon, Tony the “peanut man,” had nothing on my Mom when it came to boiling peanuts. 

Who knows, Tony and Mom could be boiling peanuts in heaven together right now! 

~ Jeannie Joyner