CityView Magazine

on second thought busiest times of year. Not only did he fill orders for hundreds of Easter lilies, he also fashioned scores of corsages for women to wear to church on Easter morning. I would ride with Mr. Crocker, the octogenarian delivery- O 14 | April • 2012 man, in an old van packed full of plastic cases containing cor- sages. My job was to read addresses from a list and to help Mr. Crocker find the right house. (In the days before there was a GPS device in every vehicle, this was no small task — even in a town the size of Rocky Mount.) We had to make every turn very slowly to keep the cases from falling over and spilling their contents. The plodding, deliberate pace made for a long day, but we were always greeted by women who were excited to see us. Many of them were not expecting a delivery, so their surprise was a double delight for us. Occasionally, a woman would be so overcome with emotion that she would cry. All these years later, I can still see their faces. Do women even wear corsages anymore? I can't remember the last time I wore one, unless it was at a bridal shower be- fore my wedding almost thirty-four years ago. I ordered one for my daughter to wear to her high school prom, a beautiful wrist corsage made of yellow roses, but that was almost ten years ago. When I was growing up, every woman wore a corsage to mark an important event in her life: brides-to-be and their mothers wore them at showers, schoolgirls wore them to proms, and wives of public officials wore them as they watched their husbands campaign or take the oath of office. I can recall seeing a photograph of a very young and slen- der Pat Nixon sporting a corsage almost the size of her head. Whoever ordered it must have thought that if one giant or- Where Have All the Flowers Gone? BY MARY ZAHRAN ne of my fondest childhood memories is delivering corsages for my Uncle Bennett's florist shop in Rocky Mount. Easter was one of his chid was beautiful, then three giant orchids would be spec- tacular. Unfortunately for Mrs. Nixon, the super-sized floral object on her coat made it appear as though she was wearing a small tree on her shoulder, which is not a flattering look for any woman. I preferred a wrist corsage, not wishing to poke holes in my new Easter dress, or worse, to stab myself with the pin. But these corsages had their drawbacks. The ones my uncle made for my sisters and me had a scratchy piece of netting where the flowers connected to the wristband. I recall one Easter in particular when the netting itched so badly that I scratched my arm until it bled. I swore off wrist corsages aſter that. Sadly, I think the corsage has gone the way of many time- honored traditions in our culture. Like the handwritten thank-you note (on engraved stationery, of course) and the practice of wearing hats and gloves to church, the corsage has become a quaint and outdated artifact that has been relegated to the dustbin of history. History's gain is our loss because corsages (unless they were the size of small tree) made women look elegant and well-dressed. Think of all the actresses from Hollywood's golden age who routinely wore them when being photo- graphed, women like Barbara Stanwyck or Rosalind Russell, and you have an image of female confidence and poise. Think of all the young women who wore corsages on momentous occasions — beautiful debutantes, glowing brides, and proud mothers and grandmothers — and you see what these flowers signified in the lives of those who wore them. Although we have abandoned these adornments for the most part, the optimist in me likes to think that somewhere a deliveryman and his trusty young navigator are still present- ing corsages to unsuspecting women who reward them with beaming smiles and an occasional tear. CV Mary Zahran lives in Fayetteville, where she no longer deliv- ers corsages. She can be reached at maryzahran@gmail.com.

• Cover