Possums

I haven’t seen “Sam,” our resident opossum, for a few weeks, and am beginning to worry about him. It’s fun to watch him nose around the patio on his nocturnal cat-food raids. And, of course, I never see Sam without thinking about Great Uncle Albert and his ‘possum breeding tale.

One Sunday, when we’d all retired to the living room after a big family dinner at Mama Jewell’s, somebody said something about an opossum, and that was all it took.

Uncle Albert elbowed me and asked, “You know how ‘possums breed, don’t you?”

I figured it was a trick question. (With Uncle Albert, it almost always was.) “Well, I’ve never actually seen one in action, but my guess is that - “

”They do it in the nose,” Uncle Albert said, impatient to get on with the story.

“NNNuh-uhhhhh,” I replied.

“Yeah, they do,” he insisted, “don’t they, Jerry?” He looked to my father-in-law to back him up.

Pop-Pop gave an emphatic l nod. “Yep. Shore do.”

“No way,” I said.

“It’s the truth.” He raised his voice a notch. “Ain’t it, Liz?”

Aunt Liz, his sister-in-law, was sitting beside me on the sofa. Aunt Liz was half deaf and couldn’t hear thunder, and she’d missed the whole ‘possum discussion to that point. “What?” she asked, cupping one ear with her hand.

“Do you know how ‘possums breed?” Uncle Albert asked her.

“Why, through their noses, I reckon,” she said. Uncle Albert was about to fall back in his chair in victory until she added, “...like everything else does. Everything breathes through its nose, doesn’t it?”

Uncle Albert leaned forward again and shouted, “No, no, Liz...not breathe: BREED!”

Aunt Liz looked shocked. “BREED? Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that!”

“Well, that’s how they do it, for sure” Uncle Albert said to me. “Looky here,” he said, "a ‘possum’s thang is forked....” He held up two fingers, like a “Peace” sign, and waggled them a couple of times.

“NNuh-uhhhhh!”

I looked at Pop-Pop. He was nodding.

“It is!” Uncle Albert said. “And when he gets ready to breed, he bends his head down between his legs, and puts one fork in each nostril...”

“No way... stop it,” waving him off.

“Yeah, he does,” Uncle Albert continued. “And he snuffs it up in his nose.”

“He shore does,” Pop-Pop said.

"So how does that get the girl ‘possum pregnant?” I demanded.

“Well, listen, and I’ll tell you,” Uncle Albert said. He was fully committed to this now, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “After he snuffs it up his nose, he walks up behind the female and sneezes it into her.”

My mouth dropped open.  I looked at Pop-Pop again. He, too, was holding up two fingers, and when I caught his eye, he turned his hand, palm toward his face, and aimed his fingertips toward his own nostrils. This was more than I could stand. Amidst Pop-Pop’s and Uncle Albert’s assurances that I had been told the 100% God’s Honest Truth, I got up and left the room.

At Nanny’s & Pop-Pop’s house later that evening, I asked my husband, “Did you hear that mess Uncle Albert told me about ‘possums?”

Pop-Pop piped up to swear it was not "mess" but was, in fact, the God's honest truth.

I still wasn’t buying it.

My husband was sitting next to Nanny’s bookcase where a set of out-dated encyclopedias was shelved. Seeing them gave me an idea. “Anything that unique ought to be on the books!” I said.  I asked The Husband to hand me the 'P' volume.

“Don’t you mean the ‘O’?”

“Smart*ss. Hand it here.”

I looked up “Opossum” in the encyclopedia. It said not one word about snuffing or sneezing or forked thangs.

The next day I told a co-worker the story that Uncle Albert had told me. She had a brilliant suggestion to put the matter to rest, once and for all: “Call the zoo.”

I called the zoo, and asked for the ‘possum expert. When he came to the phone, I said, “I have a question about ‘possum breeding habits. My uncle - ”

“Ma’am,” he said, interrupting me, “they don’t do it in the nose.”
“You’ve had this question before,” I observed.
“Yes, ma’am, at least once a day,” he said.
“Well, how DO they do it?”
“They mount, like other animals.”
“But my uncle said they have forked - um - units,” I said.
“That would be true.”
“Why is it forked?”
“Ma’am, you’ll have to ask God that question.”

I could sense he was a bit bored, so I let him off the hook, and I turned right around and dialed Uncle Albert’s number. Aunt Joy answered. I could hear a bunch of chattering in the background; all of her sisters had come for lunch.

“Aunt Joy, this is Susan. May I speak with Uncle Albert, please? I'm calling to straighten out this ‘possum mess, once and for all.”

Having heard the conversation the day before, she giggled at my mention of 'possum. “He’s not here right now, sweetie. Do you want me to tell him to call you when he gets back?”

“No, ma’am, just give him this message: tell him I called the zoo - “

Aunt Joy chuckled. “You called the zoo?”

“Yes, ma’am, and asked to speak to the ‘possum expert. He said. - “

”Possum expert!” She snickered.

“Yes, ma’am, and tell Uncle Albert that the zoo man said that possums DO NOT ‘DO IT’ WITH THEIR NOSES.”

Aunt Joy began to laugh so hard that when she tried to speak, it came out as a wheeze: “Child, he’s been spreading that malarky for years! I can't wait until he gets home!” She was still laughing when we hung up.

Some time later, when Uncle Albert was in the hospital in Intensive Care, I took Mama Jewell to the hospital to see him. As I passed by the hospital gift shop, what do I see in the window but a stuffed opossum, hanging from a limb by his curly tail. Nothing could have stopped me from buying that possum. I took him up to the ICU waiting room, and when the visiting time arrived and Aunt Joy and Mama Jewell stood up to go see him, I took the possum out of my purse and handed him to Aunt Joy. “Take this to Uncle Albert from me.”

“You take it to him,” she insisted. She told Mama Jewell she’d just have to wait her turn.

I followed Aunt Joy back to the ICU. She gently woke Uncle Albert. “Somebody’s here to see you,” she told him.

He opened his eyes.

“I brought you something,” I said, and, lifting the possum by its tail, I held it up high enough for Uncle Albert to see it. He gave me one of his crooked grins.

Some time later, Aunt Joy gave that possum back to me. I still find it around the house from time to time. And it still makes me smile every time I see it.