by Jerry
By the way, I’m eating more now and slowly gaining weight.
I miss you,
Eugene
September 14
My dearest Naomi,
“For God is my record, how greatly I long after you” (Philippians 1:8). I know I’m misusing the Scripture in that verse, but it says what I feel, so there. We’ve had warm, warm weather around here the past few days. My hair and face were soaking wet from playing with the children during the noon hour. I’ve been outside with them almost every day, going inside the schoolhouse ten minutes before bell time so I can calm down enough to read the after-lunch story. It’s fun joining in their games, and the children love it. Maybe I’m still a little kid at heart.
I came home from school at 4:30 today so I could get ready for the progress supper. That’s where you ride from place to place, getting one food item at each stop. Whoever came up with such a wild idea, I don’t know. I’ll have to see what everyone else does, but I think I’m going to eat my food items hot when they are given to us.
Ah, here is my ride, so I’d better go.
Later…
Here I am again at ten o’clock, just home from the progress supper thing. I’m going to rush since I need my sleep if I plan to teach school tomorrow without yawning all the time.
They used a tractor and wagon piled with hay bales to take us from place to place. The stops were far apart, so we had a lot of time to visit. Everyone had a paper plate, fork, knife, spoon, and napkin. We stopped at each place and lined up outside the front door. Then we filed through the kitchen to get our one food item.
Someone must have been really bored to come up with this game. We were given mashed potatoes first. A mile down the road we got the gravy. Lonnie and Luella were the third stop with their corn. Like I expected, everyone ate their portions on the ride to the next place. Which was fine with me, and it did make for a fun time. The boys hollered, and the girls screeched out their frustrations.
The whole list was potatoes, gravy, corn, bread, meat, salad, boiled carrots, and more vegetables. The dessert was an ice cream mix of some kind. This tastes worse than you might imagine. If you don’t believe me, try eating gravy or boiled carrots by themselves! At the last place, we played a game called Crows and Cranes. Two lines of people, standing boy–girl– boy–girl, face each other. One side is designated as “crows” and the other as “cranes.” Then the “caller,” in our case the lady of the house, hollers crows or cranes. The corresponding side chases the other, tagging them by touching until everyone is caught. The chases were timed to see which side could catch the other the quickest.
Afterward, I ran a footrace against two of the boys, coming in second. That was as good as I could do, and I’m still wobbly, as you can probably tell by my shaky handwriting.
They are a different group of young people than what we are used to. One of the girls had enough nerve to snap my suspenders! What a tease.
I love you,
Eugene
September 15
My dearest Naomi,
This finds me home from the volleyball game at the schoolhouse. They play softball until it gets too dark to see well, and then they play volleyball by the electric lights for another hour or so. Our side wasn’t having too much success, but I was giving it all I had. I’m worn out as a result, but we did win one game.
The weather has cooled and presented us with a foggy morning. Things cleared around noontime. I’m not sure why, but we practiced the tornado drill at the school for the first time today. Some of the first graders didn’t have a clue what to do, so we’ll have to practice this more. Not that I expect a tornado to show up, but I was told by the school board that emergency drills are mandated by state law. Apparently state officials can show up at any time and ask for a demonstration, and the school board doesn’t want to be embarrassed.
During the practice someone rings a bell. When we hear it, everyone stands and then runs, row by row, at top speed, to the basement. It does add a little excitement to the school day. Especially on a nice, sunny day when no one can see the slightest chance of a tornado bearing down.
I’m trying to start a nature collection for the children. I’m planning on bringing in mice, doves, and possibly sparrows. This morning when I walked to the schoolhouse, there was a big spider with a web on the front door. I thought, “Here’s a good start.” Catching the spider, I placed it, still alive, in a jar on my desk, which probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.
Nobody noticed it until we stood to sing for devotions. One of the boys hollered out, asking for the flyswatter to kill it. It was making its escape and was headed down the side of the jar. I told the boy no because we want to keep the spider alive to observe it.
I guess the idea of not killing a spider is pretty foreign to them. When the spider moved again, some of the girls giggled and others let out yelps.
I tried to do our devotions next, but that spider in the jar had their attention. I told them of my nature collection plans, and now they are all excited. They had all kinds of suggestions on what to bring.
At recess everyone stayed inside at first to look at the spider in the jar. It was so still, we thought it might be dead after all. A heart attack from the kids’ reactions? Eventually I poked it with a ruler, and there it went skittering back up the side of the jar, trying to escape again. I wished I had cotton in my ears to muffle the screams.
At noontime I went outside and brought in a small stick to put in the jar for the spider to sit on. But it didn’t want the stick. It wanted out of that jar.
This evening after the ball game I went in and the critter was gone. So there will be more excitement tomorrow when it turns up—likely during class or in the middle of devotions.
The eighth-grade class had nouns, adjectives, adverbs, conjunctions, prepositions, and interjections for their English class today. They thought the lesson was going to be terrible, but after I explained it they didn’t think it was that bad after all.
On an unrelated subject, Luella had picked up a recipe for marshmallow cream in Fairfield the first Saturday I was here, figuring I could tell her how to make Amish peanut butter. This evening she had the marshmallow cream ready, and I did one better then telling—I prepared a batch myself. It tasted fair, if I do say so. You know, made by a man’s hand and all.
Thursday evening…
I received a letter from my sister Heidi today. So Lydia Gingerich is having a date on Sunday, which will of course have happened by the time you receive this letter. I had told them at home that Lydia and Daniel would make a good match. Not that I am trying to find a match for Lydia, but she needs a phlegmatic man. From what Heidi says, it sounds as if it’s going to be hard on her to lose the close friendship she has with Lydia if she marries. Not that anyone knows with this being the first date, but Heidi seems to think it’s a fairly sure thing.
I’m alone this evening since Lonnie and Luella have gone somewhere to get apples. It’s seven o’clock already, and they still aren’t back. Luella left shortcake and strawberries for me, so supper was no problem. Afterward, I found a handful of cookies, apples, and orange juice to enjoy while sitting down to read the local paper. I didn’t find any interesting reading. I’d be more interested in Time magazine or U.S. News & World Report.
I did their chores tonight, as I’m caught up with my schoolwork for a change. The chores only amount to feeding the cat and dog and gathering eggs.
Sometime I want to give you a list of the children’s names and their grade levels, but I haven’t found the time so far.
The spider turned up this afternoon on one of the stools. He must have been hiding under it. I caught him and took him outside. I figured there wasn’t much use putting him back in the jar. He’d just get out again, and next time he might pick a different place to set up shop—like one of the girls’ desks.
Today the children brought in crickets, butterflies, woolly worms, and a peacock feather. I’m going down with Duane tonight after
dark to Lonnie’s barn on their other farm. We plan to catch sparrows and pigeons. We might keep a few of the pigeons to grill later. That used to be quite an outing in my growing-up years, trips over to my friend’s house where we grilled pigeons over an old farm barrel. I hope to make them like that again, only I don’t have a barrel. Luella is sure the grill will be better. She also said my Amish peanut butter tastes good.
Friday morning…
We caught nine pigeons and four sparrows last night. We kept four of the pigeons for ourselves and two for the school project. The rest we turned loose because there were only three of us to eat the pigeons. The school-project pigeons are white with speckles. I have them together in one cage. The four sparrows are in another cage.
With love,
Eugene
September 16
My dearest Eugene,
This has been a rather exciting evening. Don went out after supper to hunt squirrels and found a garbage bag full of green plants. He said he found the bag under the bridge close to East 117 and thought the plants strange looking. So Don brought the bag in for Dad to look at. Dad opened the bag and said, “It sure looks like marijuana.”
Mom and I looked the subject up in our encyclopedias and confirmed Dad’s opinion. So he went down to the phone shack and called an Englisha friend he knows who has connections with the police. The friend called the chief inspector of the county. The man showed up within twenty minutes, and it sure didn’t take him long to decide. He opened the bag, looked in, and said, “Yep, that’s marijuana.”
The inspector took the bag with him. He said it appears to him that someone who didn’t know much about marijuana found the plants and thought this was a good way to get rid of them. The reason for this opinion was because they had placed the plants in a plastic bag. He said that keeps the moisture in, and that isn’t the way marijuana is dried for sale. He also said marijuana doesn’t grow wild around here, so someone must have purposely planted it. So much for quiet country living.
What I most enjoyed this evening, though, was reading your letter, especially since this is the first one this week. I think I’ve read it four times already. You said you had written a letter but decided not to send it because it sounded too depressed. You should have sent it anyway. I want to know how you feel, good or bad. I was sorry to hear that you’re depressed, and I hope and pray that by the time this letter reaches you, you’re feeling much better.
I was very happy that you liked the poem! I was afraid maybe you wouldn’t because I know I’m not the best judge of poetry. But to me that particular one stood out from all the rest in the book, so I decided you just might like it.
You said people out there don’t have much confidence that you will stay true to me. I miss you greatly, but I know you didn’t go to Iowa to get away from me, so I’m not worried. I have complete trust that you will stay true to me. And there is nothing in the world that will keep me from being true to you. I mean that with all my heart, and I hope you don’t doubt it. The thought has crossed my mind, supposing you meet some girl. It wasn’t that I was doubting you, it’s just that I’m sure there are a lot of girls nicer than me who would be better for you than I am. I often don’t feel worthy of you.
Mom said she doesn’t care a whit how often I write you, as long as it’s not every day. So I’ll say again, please write as often as you want to. I welcome every letter from you with joy!
It’s really cool tonight and supposed to frost. “Already!” I exclaimed at the supper table when Dad shared the weather forecast. So I moved my plants in off the roof after dinner. It’s really clear outside. Wow! I guess it isn’t evening anymore, it’s 12:40.
Oh, another thing, I ordered a “string art” kit through the mail, as I wanted something to do in my spare time. So “Miss stingy” spent some of her money. The kit is of a horse head, and I think I’m going to like doing it.
Yesterday was Mom and Dad’s anniversary and also Dad’s birthday. Last Wednesday Elena Marshall told me she’d decorate a cake for them, and she brought it over last night. It was very nice, but not as nice as your going-away cake was. That was a beautiful cake, which wasn’t very fitting for such a sad occasion.
You wrote about the Christmas dinner at Burkholders’—how I wouldn’t have batted an eye at you. When I read that I burst out laughing. If you had known me better, you would have realized that I did care for you even then. That’s why I ignored you most of the time. I was and still am sometimes a little perverse.
Back then I wasn’t at all sure anything would work out between us, and you had dated you-know-who for a while. Before I’d leave for a young folks gathering, I’d resolve not to look at you. I told myself I didn’t care for anyone, especially you. But then I’d see you at the gatherings, and all my resolve would fly out the window. I’d get so mad at myself and try all over again the next time. You were and still are irresistible to me. I’m also a bit of a pessimist, and I always figured for you to have feelings for me would be too good to be true.
Your letter warmed my heart. Thank you for the beautiful poem. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you that I love you…and see the love in your eyes for me. Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t tell you more often how much you mean to me while you were here. But I guess I know why. Always when I want to express my deepest feelings, I get all tongue-tied or I’m afraid it’ll sound dumb. Yet I never think it sounds dumb when you say sweet things. I get so mad at myself sometimes! Maybe I’ll carry a pencil and paper along, and when I feel like expressing myself I’ll hand you a note. Now wouldn’t that be silly?
Well, it’s now one o’clock. Maybe I should stay up all night, but I’m very sleepy, and it’s very chilly with my window wide open. Ah, what glories to curl up under the covers on a brisk night with a clear open view right into the starry heavens. Mom says I have no one to blame but myself when I wake up in the middle of the night with my teeth chattering, but it’s still worth the experience.
Lots and lots of love,
Naomi
September 19
My dearest Naomi,
I’m awfully lonesome tonight and just finished reading, and rereading, your last letters. Especially the one with the wedding news. I don’t know about someone taking you to the table. You’re scaring me a little. I hope that nasty character from Holmes County wasn’t too handsome. Maybe he can take his buggy out in the middle of all that tourist traffic and lose a wheel or something. I know you weren’t to blame, so I’ll calm down now and control myself.
I can picture how your room is situated after the furniture moving. Is this a girl thing or something—moving things around compulsively? I’d leave things where they are forever. It’s more comfortable that way. And doesn’t it feel different to sleep on the floor? But perhaps there is some attraction to it that I don’t get.
Oh, weekends! I fairly wail from my miserable times and from the sorrows that afflict my soul. Time drags like the stars in their courses. I search for hope that each moment might be better than the last, only to find myself again brokenhearted, lonely, and longing to see your face. But I guess I’d better stop my wailing and fill you in on the news.
I was up to the schoolhouse last night, and all the sparrows were dead. News which fits my current feelings, but I will say no more. So we caught five new sparrows late last night. Maybe this time they will eat. The ones who died had not. I turned the two doves loose because the cages were too small for them so I pitied them.
Here is a list of the schoolchildren.
First Grade
Dawn—average size, chubby, and quiet
Brandon—blond, very confident, and smartest of the class.
Will likely be a broad-shouldered giant when he grows up
Laverne—He’s a wheezy, frail, sickly boy who has asthma and allergies. He can’t stand to be around dust, not even to work on the blackboard
Anthony—looks almost identical to Mark, one of the other first graders, even though he isn’t related. Has a
thin, short, wispy sort of body frame
Mark—often scared and crying, and then acts extra big to make up for it
Note: One first grader who had planned to attend didn’t come this year. The parents thought she wasn’t mature enough
Second Grade
No pupils
Third Grade
Lacie—a pretty, bright-eyed, little, round-faced girl
Norman—black-haired, always jolly, full of boundless energy. A brother to Dakota and Dawn
Larry—a jolly fellow who reminds me of a turtle, slow to get in gear, slow to think, and slow to everything. A brother to Anthony, but he doesn’t look like it. Maybe they swapped the babies at the hospital by accident
Fourth Grade
Lester—blond-haired, walks straight as a stick, and a brother to Velma and Laverne
Sharon—small, petite, and rolls her eyes like a sophisticated lady
Fifth Grade
Dora—stout girl, very cheerful, and would make some Amish boy a perfect farmer’s wife. She’s a sister to Lacie
Dakota—short, quiet, smart, and a sister to Norman and Dawn
Lydia—a happy girl, always talking, and has a very bright outlook on life
Sixth Grade
Dennis—short, chubby, happy, and a brother to Crystal
Jackie—a very good-natured, black-haired girl. She has an incurable eye disease, which they expect will blind her someday. Sister to Jared and Mark
Seventh Grade
Velma—thin, active girl, who runs like a deer on the playground. Smart as a whip, and a sister to Lester and Laverne
Jared—dreamy sort of chap who would rather be anywhere but in school most of the time. A brother to Jackie and Mark
Eighth Grade
Dena—a laughing, dark-skinned girl, but given to moods
Crystal—bold, adventurous, and will likely take life by storm. A sister to Dennis. She also has a brother in the young folks group
Note—Both the sixth and seventh graders act sweet on each other, so I guess they start them young out here. In two of the couples who date among the young folks here, the girls are only fifteen