Since she was a child, Mable had been accumulating a list of questions that she wanted to ask the Lord when she got to heaven. “Why must life be so hard for old people? Why don’t you answer all my prayers like the Bible says that you will? Why did you take my Buddy? Why do bad things happen to good people? What happened to the good man I married?”
Once, one of her pastors told her that it’s a sin to question God. Mable reasoned otherwise. Even Jesus, when he was on the cross, cried out, “My God. My God. Why have you forsaken me?” There were times of crisis in her life when she felt like the Lord had turned his back on her, most notably her current predicament, which resulted in a troubling faith failure. But she never stopped believing that God loved her. She often said, “Jesus died for me. If that was all he ever did for me it would be more than enough.” The part of her spirituality that died with Buddy was the daily bread kind of faith that takes everything to the Lord in prayer and expects positive results.
While Mable worked, Helen talked to Sally. Things couldn’t have gone more smoothly until Sally heard something that disturbed her greatly. “I know this is a sensitive subject, but do you know how he died? I mean, I read that it was an accident but there were no other details.”
“Don’t know much more than that,” said Helen. “One of the Marines who visited with us said that Buddy had just come on guard duty and his best friend was the one who accidentally shot him.”
Sally stopped talking and looked stunned. “Are you OK?” asked Helen.
“Shot by his best friend?”
“That’s what they told us.”
“Did they give you his name?”
“No. They didn’t tell us that.” Helen could sense that Sally knew something that she wasn’t sharing. “Did you know any of his friends?”
“Just one of them.”
Helen wanted to know more about Buddy’s life in Japan, most of which had been a mystery to the family. “What was his name?”
“Eddie. Eddie Johnson.”
“You all getting hungry in there?” called Mable. To say that Mable knew her way around the kitchen would be putting it mildly. Her skills were more incredible considering that she demonstrated her talent in a time when there were few prepackaged foods and before the invention of the microwave oven. In 30 minutes the feast was ready and on the table. “Come and get it.” Fried squash, fresh sliced tomatoes, cucumber salad, corn on the cob, boiled potatoes smothered in butter, fried pork chops, and a pitcher of super sweet iced tea. And when Sally entered the kitchen Mable apologized, “It ain’t much but I hope you like it.”
“Not much?” said Sally. “This is a feast.”
Helen grinned because she knew what her Mom meant. Mable was fishing for a compliment. That’s what humble people do. They speak with their actions and then play it down as if it was no big deal which almost always produces the desired result. Sally went on and on about that incredible meal. “Don’t know when I’ve ever had better.”
Charlie hadn’t been in bed but a few hours after returning home from his graveyard shift. Even had a big breakfast but the heavenly smells wafting through the house could not be denied. It also meant that the cook was back in business and he just had to check it out. Unfortunately, Charlie wasn’t in a mood for putting on clothing beyond the boxer shorts and t-shirt he was wearing. When he entered the kitchen, Mable just about fell out of her chair. “Charlie Polk, we have company. Put some clothes on.”
Helen and Dickie laughed ‘til it hurt. Mable apologized over and over but Sally took it all in stride. “My Daddy does the same thing around the house. He says it’s comfortable. Drives Mama crazy.”
If Charlie were embarrassed, no one would have ever known. Mable introduced Sally and then he retrieved his cherished dinnerware from the drainer by the sink and made short order of filling his plate. Sally caught him up on her story and Mable and Helen filled in any missing details. All the while, Dickie took it all in. He had longed for this day. Happiness had returned to the house on Capon Street. The big grin on his granddad’s face said it all. Sally Duffy was like the sunshine after a storm.
When the meal was over, Sally insisted on helping with the dishes which gave the women time for more discussion. The girl from West Point knew so much more than they knew about his life in Japan. She even knew about the china he sent her for her birthday and when Mable proudly showed them off, Sally said, “I told him you would love it. He worked so hard to find you the perfect gift.”
“Couldn’t have been better,” said Mable. “But I hate he spent all that money.”
Later, back in the living room, Sally reached into her purse and pulled out a letter. “I keep this with me all the time. It was written on the day he died.” Her eyes welled with tears and her voice cracked as she continued. “You can read it if you want. I would read it to you but I don’t think I could make it all the way through.”
Helen moved closer to her mother so that they could read together. The letter began, “My dearest Sally. Thank you so much for the birthday present. The watch is beautiful. I love it and especially the inscription.”
Mable couldn’t recall ever getting a letter longer than 2 pages from her son. “It’s so long,” she observed. “6 pages.”
“Every day I got one like that,” said Sally. “Right up to the end.”
Such detail. Who he talked to. What they talked about. Where he went. What he saw. And then they came to the part about what and who he missed and Mable and Helen became so emotional it was all they could do to continue. And if there were any lingering questions as to Buddy’s feelings about this girl, they were powerfully answered on page 6. “Mama was right when she said that I would know when the right one comes along. You’re the one, Sally Duffy, and I can’t get you off of my mind. I love everything about you. Your sweet smile, bright eyes, soft skin, and a face so lovely that it makes my heart melt. In a little while, I’ll be heading off to work, to stand guard in the darkness of night. But I have the love of God and my thoughts of you to light my way. Right now, we are oceans apart, but yet I feel your presence and I hope you feel mine for I will always be with you. Forever yours. Charles.”
There was a long silence after they finished reading Buddy’s letter. Even Dickie was crying in response to their tears. Sally was the first one composed enough to speak. “I have something else for you.” Again she pulled a document from her purse. “I typed a copy. I would give you the original but I’m afraid I could never part with it.”
“I understand,” said Mable. “That’s the way it should be. I hope you’ll stay in touch. Come to visit us when you can.”
“I will. I promise,” said Sally while stuffing the original letter back in her purse. “I’ve got to get back to the room. Check out is at 2:00.”
When she stood up to leave Mable stopped her. “Wait just a minute.” She walked across the room to the table where she kept her telephone and pulled open a drawer and retrieved a small box. “The Marines sent this to us from Japan. When I opened the box I just didn’t have the heart to look at what’s in it. But I did notice something that I think you should have.” Mable’s hand was shaking when she removed the lid. “Does this look familiar?”
“Oh, my gosh,” said Sally putting her hand over her heart. “His watch.”
“Take it.”
“No, mam. I couldn’t do that.” Sally sat back down and stared at the gold timepiece.
Curiosity, as usual, was getting the best of Helen. “I’m dying to see the inscription.” Sally handed over the watch and Helen read the message on the back. “Love forever and beyond. Sally.”
Sally’s visit lasted a little more than 3 hours and would have gone on longer if not for the checkout deadline at the hotel. The three women each felt that they had gotten back a little of what they had lost. Sally had access to the people and places that meant most to Buddy. Mable and Helen had established a bond with the individual who meant the most to him. It was in no way a replacement for their loss but i
t was something to build upon.
Before she left, Sally made a request. “If you ever hear more about what happened to Buddy would you please let me know?” She didn’t elaborate since she didn’t want to add to their burden.
“If I hear anything I’ll write you a letter,” said Mable.
Sally tried to put it out of her mind. A coincidence? Possibly. Maybe it would be best if she never found out. And then she was hit with a more troubling thought that her subtle warning to Buddy wasn’t enough. She should have told him more about her knowledge of Eddie Johnson.
There are many things in life that we want but can’t have. Unattained dreams and aspirations are disappointing and frustrating. But far more difficult are the precious things that we possess that are forever lost. When those tragic losses come unexpectedly and needlessly, like a thief in the night, we are hurled into a seemingly inescapable abyss of pain and suffering. Life deals us a gut blow so severe that we can’t see ourselves ever getting up again. But in our heart of hearts, we know that eventually, we must get up and rebuild.
The road to recovery is seldom, if ever, a conscious effort. It’s not like making a New Year’s resolution to change something about your life. Just like a severe physical injury, grief is slow to heal. And so it began for Mable and Charlie. One step forward. Two steps back. One day at a time. Sally’s visit was a beginning.
Out of the Mouths of Babes – July - August 1955
To the adults in the Polk family, six weeks seemed like little more than a day. But to a child, time moves ever so slowly. Dickie believed that this was the longest summer ever and he wondered if it would ever end. No TV, no friends, perpetual solitude, sad people, a grumpy mother, and unspeakable boredom.
About the only near normal thing was that his Mom and Dad were back to arguing again. There was, however, a moratorium on cussing but that was only because they were living in Mammaw’s house. Anybody who lived there knew better. At best, she allowed ‘darn it’ and ‘dern it’ but ‘dang it’ was strictly forbidden. Helen’s favorite substitute curse word was ‘sugar.’ Mable didn’t have a problem with that one because she didn’t know what it really meant. Pity the poor soul who decided to take the Lord’s name in vain. Woody found out the hard way. “You’re not too old for me to wash your mouth out with soap, Woody Weirich,” declared Mable. Some suggested that the reason that Charlie hummed his displeasure was to escape Mable’s ire.
At the heart of most of Helen and Woody’s arguments was the long stay in Strasburg. Woody wanted his home back. After all, he still had to pay the rent and it was far less depressing. He missed his tools and the basement where he plied his carpentry hobby. There was a dining table project that he wanted to complete.
Thus far, all attempts to persuade Helen that it was time to move on had failed. He couldn’t believe that Helen had stayed away from her gossip partner for so long. Helen and Jane Hudson were like peanut butter and jelly. They were made for each other.
Woody had reached the end of his rope. It was time for a showdown. He knew that confrontations in the Polk household were far from private. Charlie’s hums of disdain and Mable’s monitoring sensor ears were too close for comfort. So Woody planned a dinner date in Front Royal. Helen loved nothing more than a cheeseburger with a big slice of onion at the Front Royal Diner. But even more fun was parking along Main Street in Front Royal and watching the people go by. It was their favorite entertainment. They took gossip to a whole new level on those parking sessions. Total strangers were fair game as Helen and Woody speculated about everything from their occupations to their love lives.
Front Royal, Virginia – July 16, 1955
Most often, except on their anniversary or Valentine’s Day, they brought Dickie along, bought him a Pal Orange drink, and sentenced him to an evening of boredom in the back seat. Such was the case on Saturday night, July 16, 1955. Woody had Helen right where he wanted her. It was time to make his case.
“I think I know that girl,” said Helen responding to a familiar face in the Front Royal crowd. “Can you believe that dress? No question what she’s selling.”
Dickie had no idea what she was selling. Maybe it was something he would like to have. “What’s she selling, Mom?”
“Something that you’re not old enough to know about.”
There was that adult secret talk again. “When will I be old enough?” asked Dickie.
Helen chuckled. “Oh, I guess when you’re about 21.”
“Then I could buy what she’s selling?”
“No. Definitely not,” said Helen, which prompted Woody to hit his hand on the steering wheel and laugh out loud.
Dickie didn’t know what made them laugh but he loved the attention, so he continued. “You’re not gonna tell me what she’s selling?”
“No,” declared Helen more forcefully.
“Then I’ll just ask my second-grade teacher. She’ll know.”
Woody saw his opening. With Helen in a good mood, now was the time to introduce his planned discussion. “We need to talk,” said Woody.
“Thought we were talking,” replied Helen.
“There’s something that I need to get off my chest.”
Helen rolled her eyes. She had no idea what he had on his mind but she knew she wasn’t going to like it. “Spit it out.”
“It’s time for us to move back to Middletown,” said Woody, bracing himself for her response. Dickie was happy to hear the subject introduced even though he knew that a battle was about to break out.
“We’ve already been over that,” complained Helen.
“We need to go over it again.”
“The reason that we moved in with Mom and Dad was to help them through this difficult time.”
What Woody said next was like lighting the fuse on a stick of dynamite. “I can’t see where us being there has done a bit of good.”
Surely all the people in Front Royal heard her response. “What? Well, for sure you’ve not helped them one bit. But I’m their daughter and I need to be there. They need me.”
Woody wasn’t backing down. “You’re not there for them as much as you are there for you.”
“Why would you say something like that? That’s just plain stupid.”
“It’s just like what you did the day that you heard that Buddy had been killed. You wallowed on the sofa and held Dickie like a security blanket. You’re doing the same thing with them. It’s about you. It’s always about you.”
Their raised voices had drawn a small crowd and Dickie thought he was going to die from embarrassment. And then she threw open the car door with such force that Woody feared it would come off its hinges. Off she went, stomping down the street toward the movie theater where she pushed her way through a line of people waiting to buy tickets. Woody slowly followed in his Ford, patiently waiting for the tirade to be over. When she saw him, she stomped even harder, turned her head and gave Woody the look of death, and then ran right into a Front Royal policeman.
“Oh, Lord,” said Woody. “Now she’s done it.”
Dickie’s eyes were about to pop out of his head.
Back on the sidewalk, there was more interest in the unfolding drama than the movie playing at the Front Royal Movie House. “Might want to watch where you’re goin’,” said the stunned officer.
Nothing like a good shock to get Helen off her high horse. “Oh, my gosh. I am so sorry.”
“Looks like you’re all riled up about something,” said the policeman.
Woody parked the car and calculated his next move. Should he get involved or keep his distance?
“How much have you had to drink tonight?” asked the officer.
“Nothing but a Pal soda pop,” said Helen.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nothing,” said Helen.
“Nothing?”
“I’m with my husband,” said Helen pointing back to the car which caused Woody to slide down into his seat. “I had just got out to get a little fresh air.”
“Well, how about getting back in the car and going back to where you came from?”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
Seconds later, Helen was back in the passenger seat where she initiated the silent treatment all the way back to Strasburg. Just once, thought Woody, I would love to win an argument.
Maybe parents don’t know or, worse yet, they just don’t care. But kids, are negatively affected by discord in the home. Minor disagreements are inevitable and a part of life. Children can live with that and even learn about more complex relationship issues like conflict management and compromise. However, a happy home is not a battleground. It is difficult, if not impossible, to model love and give love in a home with abundant hostility and disagreement. Dickie’s parents often repeated the old instruction, “Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.” Just like he rationalized that Santa Claus was nothing but fantasy, Dickie concluded that that old saying was a lie. Words do hurt. In his case, angry words, no matter where they were directed, hurt him and caused him to withdraw.
Mable’s Kitchen - August 1, 1955
Dickie and Mammaw were left alone. Woody was at work, Helen on another window shopping trip with Jane Hudson, and Charlie had gone to the stockyard in Woodstock to buy a cow. The front porch had become Dickie’s summer playroom. Tiny plastic Civil War soldiers representing the armies of the North and South were strategically aligned on the concrete steps. Ironically, Dickie had no idea about the real battles that were fought nearby, 90 years before. Just a block away, St. Paul’s Lutheran Church was used as a hospital and the town of Strasburg was occupied at various times by both sides of the conflict. To the Northeast, within a distance of fewer than 5 miles, the Battle of Cedar Creek took place in which there were nearly 9,000 casualties. At Fishers Hill, only 2 miles to the West, there was another major battle. More significant, and unbeknownst to the 7-year-old was the fact that his grandparents’ home was built before the war. If only walls could talk.
Farewell PFC Polk: The End of a Nightmare (In the Valley of Hope Book 2) Page 30