Yard ornaments go tastefully back in history as statuary, but in the Midwest escalated to pink flamingos, yard jockeys and bath tub shrines. I’ve lived next door to a yard jockey for more than twenty years. Concrete statuary is a relatively inexpensive substitute for granite or marble, whimsical to garish and available along country roadsides. I’ve lived up the road for more than twenty years to a family that pours concrete figures and has them for sale. I’ve even shopped there with Ann for a tasteful bench and bird bath to memorialize one of their memorable dogs. She’s still looking for the naked cherub filling the pond. That may be one step up from concrete.
In a burst of American entrepreneurism, sales of concrete geese moved from back country roads to streets around art shows. A secondary industry sprang up, making clothing for the concrete geese. With little fanfare the geese waddled east and west, north and south, followed by the garment sewers. Only in America could there be a market for a cottage industry sewing goose clothes. Then I met Linda’s Goose. Goose clothes went on my radar and I could send Ann or Beth twenty blocks out, to the craft show, to bring home goose clothes. And giant bubble makers for my grandchildren.
I’ve told a couple amusing stories about Linda’s Goose, and she called me and told me the rest of the story. Actually, there is another Goose. Maybelle’s Goose. Maybelle is Linda’s BFF. Maybelle changed her name from Mabel so her mother, Mabel, wouldn’t open her mail. Oh, what I know about Maybelle. But it’s enough for you to know she must be Linda’s BFF.
Linda lived in central New York State between living in Ohio twice, not too far from Maybelle. Linda and her husband were driving to a show and just before arriving, there were the geese. Linda decided Maybelle needed one of those for the cottage at the lake. So, they stopped and bought Maybelle a big concrete goose. Because it was the lake, they added some rain gear.
The next weekend Linda was so envious of Maybelle’s goose, she stopped for another one for her back stoop in New York. The impetus for this industry should now be obvious; it feeds on itself. You can just hear the men in the back room: Pour more geese, Jack. We need to keep up with the demand. And, when they go home at night: Make more goose clothes, dear. There’s quite a market.
When Maybelle’s son was married at the cottage at the lake, Maybelle’s goose wore a rose with her lace.