No one else in the Philadelphia branch of the family had such an accent. Her mother and father had dropped theirs as soon as they crossed the Pennsylvania state line. Her husband could have been an announcer for WCAU had they been hiring 10’s when he was coming up. While all about her sounded eastern-seaboard neutral, why did she persist in sounding like a mush-mouth? One reason: most of the time her mouth was full of mush or some other comestible rare or common to humankind. Louise was once challenged to name a food she did not like. She paused to consider. That pause was now in its fifteenth year. During that time, she spoke of other things, lived her life, paid attention to what was going on, to all appearances; but all the while—simmering on a back burner, as it were—she was trying to bring to the boil of consciousness the category of food she had once tasted at Ida Ledbetter’s second child’s husband’s cousin’s wake after Ida Ledbetter’s second child’s husband’s cousin’s mother had collapsed after dishing out the potato salad.
