by Roxi Harms
"Another half-hour and we'll be home," Adam said on their drive home. Thick snow had been slicing through the beam of the headlights for most of the drive and they'd had to take it slowly. He hoped it didn't continue through the weekend. He had to be back in Kamloops at first light Monday morning.
"You know, Adam," his dad's words interrupted Adam's thoughts, "the girl you married, she's a nice girl. I like Jean. And she's a good cook. But she's going to make you broke."
"Why? Jean's good with money."
"Have you ever watched closely when she peels the potatoes?"
"No. . . ." As if I have time to stand around and watch potatoes being peeled, he thought.
"Half the potato goes into the garbage. Every time. You gotta tell her to cook them with the skins on, and if the skin's not good, then peel it very thin like paper. Like your mother does."
"Okay," Adam responded.
"She's too wasteful. You're never going to make it."
"Well, I'm going to try real hard, Dad."
His dad muttered something Adam couldn't make out.
It didn't stop there.
"What are you doing, Mom?" Adam asked one evening not long after.
"Mending some of your work socks. The darning I put into the heels has worn through, and I thought Frank could wear them to school this winter."
"You don't need to do that, Mom. They've already been mended once. They're not worn right through. I can wear them a bit longer before they are finished. And Frank can have new socks to wear to school. You don't need to mend the mending."
He and Jean watched their money carefully, but socks were not that expensive and business was good. He didn't want his little brother looking like a refugee. As soon as the words were out of his mouth though, he knew what was coming next.
"Buy another pair? Just like that?" his dad jumped in. "And what, throw these away? Perfectly good wool. Anna, you will not throw that away. It's good wool and it can be made into something else."
He'd been staring at the game show playing on the TV. Adam knew he didn't understand the words, and by the scowl on his face, he wasn't enjoying it.
"What are you going to do when things aren't so easy Adam? What's going to happen when you run out of fuel for that fancy heater? You won't be able to just turn up that thing on the wall then," his dad's voice had started to rise a little. "In Laudenbach we didn't have any goddammed fuel for our fire. Nothing to burn. And no money to buy wood at the outrageous prices they charged for those little bundles. I used to wait until the city workers finished cutting firewood and went home for the day, and then sneak in there and take some of it, and pick up any that they'd left behind when they were stacking it, and sometimes pull branches off the trees. They caught me one time. Hauled me in." His dad's voice calmed a bit, and Adam sensed the beginning of a story. Jean and Frank had given up trying to go through Frank's homework and were listening now, although Adam would have to translate the pieces that Jean missed. And his mom's hands were resting in her lap, eyes on her husband.
"I asked that goddammed German judge, sitting there like the king, if his family was ever cold, and if I could just pay two fines and get it over with, one for now and one for the next time I had to go out and get wood to keep my family warm. They never bothered me again," he chuckled, then continued more seriously. "And hell, in Elek, when the wood and the corn stalks ran out during a cold snap, we got frostbite on our fingers picking up cow shit to heat up the stove and the bricks to put in the beds so we didn't freeze at night."
"I'll make sure we don't run out of fuel, Dad," Adam said with a small sigh.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-EIGHT
1959
This will be perfect, Adam thought, walking between the rows of cherry trees where the ground was soft with fallen blossoms. By the time they moved in, it would be almost time to start picking. His mouth watered at the thought.
He'd had the idea about a month ago. Other than going out for an occasional coffee with a couple of German friends Adam had introduced him to, or coming along to check on the job sites, his dad still stayed in the house much of the time. Little Sue's German vocabulary was growing quickly but playing with his granddaughters wasn't enough. His dad was only 55 years old. He needed something to keep him occupied, and three and a half acres of orchard would be just the thing. They could get a few animals too, which would cut down the grocery bill. A bit of Elek right here in Penticton!
And this place even had two houses. The pickers' shack could be turned into a cozy little house for his parents and Frank, and the main house was bigger than where they were. Their third daughter had been born a few weeks earlier. He'd been hoping for a boy until he saw Cheri, a perfect little angel lying there in Jean's arms. In any case, the extra space would be nice with a new baby and two busy toddlers.
Adam whistled as he jumped back into the car. He needed to stop at the mini-golf and see how the spring clean-up was going. They were due to open for their second season in a couple of weeks and there was a lot to do to get ready. He was planning to show his mom and dad around the mini-golf this weekend, maybe even teach them how to play.
An hour later, he pulled into the garage and went into the house.
"Frank, what happened?" His brother was holding a bloody towel against his nose, and his eyes were red from crying.
Jean jumped in and answered. "Those boys at school are such bullies, Adam." She turned her attention back to Frank. "Let me see," she said, pulling the towel away from his nose. "I think it's stopped. Do you want a little more ice?"
Frank shook his head. "No, it's okay."
"Tell me what happened Frank," said Adam.
"We had a test today," Frank started shakily, "and we had to say all 50 of the United States. And I was the only one who could do it."
"You can name all 50 states? That's pretty damned good, Frank," Adam praised his little brother.
"Yes, but the other boys didn't like it, and when class let out, they cornered me outside and started calling me ‘little Hitler.' They kicked me and then one guy punched me and my nose started to bleed." Frank sniffled a little, eyes downcast.
No one spoke for a moment. Then Adam broke the silence. "Frank, those kids don't know anything about Hitler. Just because we're German doesn't make us like him. Everybody suffered when he was in power, and for a long time afterwards.
"Now, I think you need to learn to defend yourself when someone picks a fight with you. Come out to the garage with me."
At the supper table that night, Adam described the orchard and his plans.
"I'll call the guy in the morning and tell him we'll take it and find out when I can start the renovations to the two houses. And I gotta make a few calls about selling this place. If everything goes the way I'm planning, we'll be moving in July."
"A cherry and apple orchard hey? It's a good idea Adam. It'll be good to have a bit of land, room for a garden and a bit of farming," his dad said. "Might be a good idea to plant a few grapes too, make some wine."
Perfect, thought Adam.
The move went smoothly with all the extra hands to help carry boxes. His mom and dad were pleased with the little house, and Jean liked what he'd done with the main house. It took his dad no time at all to start tidying up the orchard. He couldn't prune until next spring, but there was a lot of weeding to do, and a few dead trees to take out. Adam was optimistic. His dad would be happy here and they could all relax.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-NINE
The harmony was short lived.
"Where's Dad?" Adam asked as they all settled into the living room after supper to watch TV a couple of months later. At his question, Jean, his mom, and Frank all looked at each other.
"He's not coming up tonight," his mom said after a moment, then turned to Sue. "Come on Sue, come sit with Granny." She lifted Sue and settled her onto her lap. Adam looked at Jean, who gave him a subtle head shake.
That night in bed, Jean told Adam the whole story.
&nbs
p; Mid-week, while Adam had been away working, they'd all been settling in for the evening. The girls were fed, and Frank had wandered up from the little house after supper. After changing little Cheri's diaper like she'd taught him, he'd helped himself to a snack from the fridge. Adam's mom had come up too. Just as the TV show started, the front door slammed open.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Adam's father had bellowed as he crossed the kitchen into the living room and started jabbing his finger towards Frank. "No goddammed respect! Did I raise you to be a slob?! Goddam good for nothing."
The girls had stared at their grandpa wide-eyed as Frank got up from the recliner, confused.
"What's wrong?" Frank had asked.
"You know what's wrong! You get a goddammed roof put over your head, do nothing to earn it, and you can't even show any respect. You should be ashamed of yourself," Adam's dad had continued.
"George, has something happened?" Adam's mom had asked quietly.
"This spoiled kid of ours doesn't have the decency to respect the home he's been given is what's happened. When you wash your hands, do you hang the towel properly and clean up after yourself, or I guess it's okay to just throw it down and assume someone else is going to clean up after you. What kind of world is this, when a kid your age has no chores, no responsibilities, and no respect?" Adam's father's face was red from exertion and emotion as he ranted at his young son.
Jean couldn't believe her eyes and ears. This was a grown man. What the hell was wrong with him? A thought crystallized in her mind. If she didn't establish some boundaries now, this behaviour would be the norm. She got up and went over to her father-in-law.
"Dad, this is my house," she began in her broken German, trying to keep her voice from shaking, "and the only person who will yell in this house is me. If you want to yell, you go to your own house."
Although she spoke quietly, Jean's tone left no question as to her intent to maintain authority over her home.
She'd thought for a moment that he was going to hit her, seeing the veins bulging in his temples as he clenched his fists at his sides.
"Adam will hear about this," he'd spat out towards Jean.
At that point, she'd calmly asked him to leave. He'd hesitated, but then he'd turned and stomped out, slamming the door violently.
"Good for you, honey," said Adam when Jean finished her story. "Not enough people stand up to my father."
In the days that followed, Adam's dad stayed out of sight. The days became weeks, and the only news they had of him was Adam's mom's occasional mention to her daughter-in-law.
"Jean, he's sitting in the little house, crying all the time," she would say quietly. Jean knew her mother-in-law wanted only peace in the family, and Adam confirmed that she'd always been the one to resolve the conflicts that arose, placating her hot-headed husband to keep the peace. But Jean was determined not to be subservient to her father-in-law. She and Adam agreed that it was time he learned something.
Jean tried to explain her point of view to her mother-in-law in her broken German. "He needs to understand the consequences of his actions. He can't act this way like a child with a temper tantrum." She knew she hadn't made her points clearly enough, but her mother-in-law was a respectful woman, and didn't push.
After three weeks, Jean decided enough was enough and headed down the path towards the little house. Her father-in-law had likely never apologized in his life, certainly never to a woman, and he probably wasn't going to start now. For that matter, he probably wasn't even sorry and didn't consider his behaviour that evening to be wrong. But she'd left it long enough and her boundary had been established.
"Dad," she called out as she knocked.
"What?" came the answer from inside. Everyone else was up at the big house already, settled around the TV for the evening.
She pushed the door open and saw him sitting at the kitchen table in the semi-darkness. He looked up at her suspiciously.
"Would you like to join us for the evening? We're watching TV, and I've baked a nice cake."
A smile quickly spread across her father-in-law's face. "Sure, okay. What kind of cake?" he asked as he stood and reached for his shoes.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY
1960
Things settled down again after Jean invited Adam's dad back into the house. Perhaps he'd begun to appreciate the strength that had drawn Adam to Jean.
At the earliest sign of spring the following year, Adam's dad began working in the orchard, more content than Adam had seen him in years as he lovingly tended the fruit trees and prepared the ground for the garden. When Adam came home with fifty chicks on a Saturday morning, they went out and picked up some lumber and chicken wire and before the weekend was over, a chicken coop had been added to the yard.
The Kamloops apartment building was finally completed despite many obstacles with the building site and the crew that had drawn the timeline out to 18 months. It sold quickly and for a good profit.
Adam was home full time again, and before long the mini-golf had been expanded to include a trampoline section. Then, on a whim, Adam purchased four ponies, one for each of the girls and one for Frank. Really they were for the tourists of course. Each morning, Frank rode his pony, Dickie, from the orchard to the mini-golf, leading the other three along behind for the pony rides the growing tourist attraction had begun offering.
Adam's dad and mom picked furiously as the cherries ripened that first summer, determined not to let any go to waste. The excess they didn't need could be sold, Adam's dad explained proudly.
"Where's that box of cherries I put in the garage this morning?" his dad asked Adam one afternoon when the cherry season was drawing to a close.
"I sold it," Adam replied.
"What do you mean you sold it? I didn't have the sign out today."
"Well, there was a car in the driveway when I got home and they wanted cherries and there was a box there so I sold it. Here's the money." Adam pulled a five-dollar bill out of his pocket and held it out to his dad.
"You sold the whole box for five dollars?"
"I didn't know the price, so we agreed on five dollars."
"You're crazy, that box should have been ten dollars." His dad's face started to get red. "You don't look after the trees, you don't pick the cherries, and then you give them away for nothing?"
"I didn't give them away, I sold them for five dollars," Adam snapped back, reaching into his pocket. "Here, you want another five dollars, I'll give you another five dollars."
"I don't want your money," his dad roared, spinning on his heel and stomping away. After a few steps he stopped and turned back towards Adam, shaking his finger at him. "A guy works for days picking cherries in the heat, and then you sell them for half price. You should have sent them away and told them to come back tomorrow when somebody who knows what they're doing was here." His dad strode away, leaving a string of Romanian swear words behind.
It was a week before his dad spoke to him again.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE
1961
The next winter, on a family trip to Disneyland, Adam spotted a set of full-size carnival rides for sale on the side of the road. The rides would turn the mini-golf attraction into an all-day amusement park outing for families and increase revenue significantly, he thought. When the rides had arrived and been set up, all freshly painted, he stood back and looked at the site with pride.
The problems started shortly thereafter. The permit he had been waiting on to operate the rides was denied. Adam was furious. The councilmen had all been supportive when he'd reviewed his plans with them before making the purchase, and he'd spent a lot of time and money on the rides since then.
The local newspaper became the chronicle of the biggest dispute Penticton had ever seen before, and probably since, and City Hall the scene of many a hot debate. After Adam expressed his disappointment in an interview printed in the newspaper, council published an article about the expressions of concern they had rece
ived from people who lived near the site. The journalist scrambled to collect and publish opinions of people who were for the rides one week, and the next week he published opinions against. Neighbours near the site continued to protest, citing excess noise, all night revelry, and increased crime that the rides might somehow cause. Adam published a letter he'd written to council appealing the decision and alleging that one of the councillors was actively dissuading the others, based on a personal business interest that conflicted with the project. The councillor threatened to sue for libel and demanded an apology. Adam refused. The paper printed a statement that the permit would be withheld until an apology was received. Adam apologized. Grandmothers and mothers published letters to the editor in favour of the kiddie rides, demanding to know how anyone could be against rides that would bring joy to the little ones. Others wrote in against. The noise would be unbearable and the rides would attract hooligans. Council demanded that the ferris wheel be dismantled immediately, its size when compared to the other rides making it the primary concern. Adam refused on the grounds that the technicians capable of doing so had left the area and would not return until September. One day he received a letter saying the city had received a complaint that he was in violation of the Lord's Day Act. He went to town hall and asked for a copy of the Act. It prohibited operating a business on Sunday. Adam agreed to comply, providing all other businesses in town also complied. The complaint was dismissed.
And so the battle raged.
Ultimately, public opinion sided with Adam, and a few days before the scheduled opening, a one-year permit was granted, on the condition that the ferris wheel be dismantled.
The rides were a smash hit, and no hooligans materialized. The motel and campground that Adam had purchased next door were packed all summer too. At the end of the season, council could hardly shut down such a popular tourist attraction, and Adam was granted an indefinite permit to operate all rides, including the ferris wheel and all of his other attractions. The only condition was that he relocate to a different site across the road, just far enough from the nearest homes to appease the public.