My Dearest Naomi

by Jerry

  I asked the school board on Monday night if they would plan some sort of excursion for the end of this month. We need a spirit lift of some sort, and they said they would look into it.

  Last Saturday I worked on a bulletin board where we can have an arithmetic contest for the children. I placed parallel lines across the entire board. Each pupil has a peg and has to work his way upward on the board. The starting point is 85 percent, and to advance the student must get an equal or higher grade. Some lines are designated as mountains, rivers, deserts, and canyons. They must have 100 percent to cross those.

  Last night was the monthly youth singing instead of regular Bible study. They do this so everyone can attend some gatherings, but not many adults showed. We sang a while then Stan talked about the songs and the history behind both the writer and his work. He spoke on Isaac Watts, who, he said, could write poems from his youth. Stan said there is the story of a time when Isaac’s family was having prayer at devotions, and Isaac started to laugh while they were on their knees. Afterwards, they wanted to know what was so funny. Isaac claimed he had seen a mouse climb up a rope and had composed this poem on the spot.

  A mouse for lack of better stairs,

  Ran up a rope to say his prayers.

  I love you,

  Eugene

  February 4

  My beloved Eugene,

  I finished helping Mom clean the kitchen from the supper dishes, and now the evening has settled in on us. It’s lonesome around here, but what is new about that?

  Today Mom took a bunch of us into Worthington for shopping. Ada, Rosanna, Betsy, Mary, and Esther all went along. Mom hired a handicapped man as our driver. He apparently knows you. His name is Gene Roberts, and he was the limit. I think he was trying to scare us by zipping through tight spaces and around corners. We girls held our breath, and then when the danger was past we’d giggle. Finally Gene laughed and said, “It’s dangerous riding with me.”

  When we were loading in the morning, he told Ada’s oldest girl that she had to sit on his lap since the van was too full. Thankfully Rosanna knew he was kidding and giggled. Gene got a big grin on his face. Then after he picked us up from the shopping mall, he told me the same thing.

  I told him, “Eugene wouldn’t like that, you know.”

  “I’ll fix Eugene,” he said. “I’ll write and tell him I saw you walking around the mall with a dark, handsome fellow. What do you think of that?”

  I said, “Not much.”

  It must have been the tone of my voice because he really laughed. Then he got serious and asked how you were getting along in school. I think he likes you, and he turned out to be a nice man.

  I wrote on my mirror the other evening, “Life is the pits. Being lonely is enough to drive someone out of her mind.”

  The next day when I arrived home from work, my writing was all cleaned up, so Mom must have gotten to it. She didn’t say anything for a while, so I figured she at least sympathized with me. Then after supper she gave me this little note, and I have sent a copy along. I went up to my room and cried for a while. I am so blessed to have such a wonderful family.

  I still miss you,

  Naomi

  Think on these things….

  You have good health,

  And religious freedom,

  There are clothes on your back, food in the house, and you have a nice home.

  There is a boyfriend who loves you and cares about you.

  You have jobs—not too many, but yet some.

  There is a wedding to look forward to—some girls don’t, you know.

  Life could be the pits if you let it be.

  But look up and be thankful.

  —MOM

  February 5

  Eugene, my dearest,

  I wonder what you’re doing this evening. We finished supper, topping it off with homemade ice cream and cherry pie. Now what should a girl do just having eaten too much? I don’t know, but I can see the pounds gathering, which is a serious no-no, so we will have to do something about this.

  About my budding barbershop business, remember, I’m only cutting Dad’s hair. Don would never dream of letting me touch his, so I really doubt if I’m qualified to cut yours.

  I also wish the girl you saw who looked like me would have been me. How great that would have been. And I don’t agree that you have to act differently once you’re married, and you can tell Luella that I am on your side. So there.

  When the school board remarked how differently you act since you’ve been to the doctor, you didn’t say whether they meant you were happier, but I assumed so. I am very glad to hear this news.

  I feel sorry for Crystal and her problems. I can sympathize, although I’ve never gone through the exact same thing. Sometimes it’s hard to be female and go through the touchy and grouchy times. Don’t say you weren’t warned, but perhaps you’d better blame God because He seems to have made us all that way.

  My enthusiasm for the wedding isn’t exactly spoiled, it just doesn’t seem real sometimes because you’re not here to plan with.

  Monday evening…

  Yesterday morning on the way to church we picked up Darrel Hooley, who is staying at Harvey’s again. Anna spoke with Mom on Saturday to see if we could take him, as they needed to be elsewhere. He rode with Rosanna and me in the backseat of the surrey. He can talk up a storm! He’s a little older than you and funny as all get out. He told us all about his life in the Englisha world as a medical intern.

  He said he talked with Bishop Enos the other week again about joining the Amish, and that Bishop Enos was still open to the idea. When we dropped him back off at Harvey’s after church he said, “See ya next Sunday.” So maybe he is planning on joining.

  He said if only the Amish young people knew that worldly things make nobody happy, none of them would ever leave. I agree with that. Another subject we talked about was the government, and Darrel got all fired up.

  “It’s dumb, the government is,” he said in English, and then he tried to say it in German. “Da ovvahrichkeit ist dumm.” It was funny, but he got most of the words right so he must have practiced at Harvey’s. I told him how to say it, and he repeated the words several times. Dad laughed in the front seat, and now Darrell wants everyone to talk to him only in German so he can learn the language faster.

  I told him about you, and he wanted your address so he can write. It caught his fancy, I think, that I date a schoolteacher. Maybe he thought all Amish people were farmers. I gave him your address, so if he writes, that’s what it’s about.

  Don and I picked him up for the hymn singing in the evening, but you don’t have to be jealous. There is no danger, and next Sunday Harvey’s young folks should be able to drive him again. That is, if he stays. But I don’t doubt him, I guess. He seems sincere.

  There was a load of visiting young people here yesterday from Ohio. Most of them I didn’t know. They stayed around all afternoon and joined us for the hymn singing. That was nice, although it produced a crowded building in the evening. The plus side was the singing sounded much better with so many extra voices.

  I went for another of my long, snowy walks yesterday afternoon, using two coats this time and wrapping up in my scarf. I’m not sure what those walks do for me, but I felt more cheerful afterward. There’s something about an open, snow-covered field all frozen over, the summer’s grass buried out of sight, everything so still and forgotten that gives me courage and hope. It quiets my soul and reminds me that spring will come again.

  I ventured farther this time, down past our property line on the south fence. Don had told me once there was a lane back there that leads to abandoned railroad tracks. I found the lane and the old railroad tracks. It was something to stand there and imagine the engines puffing along, pulling their long strings of cars behind them. Now there is nothing but the old railroad bed—and the snow covering it.

  At the singing I wanted to lead a song that fit my feelings, but I couldn’t find anything at first. Then
I remembered the song you love so much, “Does Jesus Care?” I gave out the number when the English singing time came around, even though I was sitting on the front row facing the boys. It hit the spot exactly.

  Darrel said on the way home in the buggy, “Thank you for leading that song.”

  I told him, “That’s one of Eugene’s favorites.”

  He said, “Then he has good taste, this Eugene of yours.”

  When I was getting ready to leave after the hymn singing, Robert asked how often I hear from you. I said matter-of-factly, “Three letters a week.”

  His eyes got wide and his mouth dropped open.

  I about cracked up laughing.

  Robert asked, “How does he know what to write, and how many pages does he write?”

  “Oh, he does okay,” I said and left it at that.

  Please don’t think you’re strange because you’re different than some boys. I like you that way, and surprising someone like Robert is a great delight.

  I think I wrote you that James Yoder has persuaded Millie to attend the Englisha church. She doesn’t want to go, she claims, but said that she is his wife and wants to be submissive where he leads her spiritually. Dad didn’t think that was a good idea at all, and it will likely get both of them excommunicated before this is over with.

  Betsy and Rosanna suggested some school things you might try to liven up the dark winter days. They said a lunch exchange is usually exciting for the children. I guess you draw numbers to decide who gets whose lunch. They also said a “come as you are” day can be interesting.

  Well, it is 9:30, and I have written enough to have bored you out of your wits. As for myself, I am extremely annoyed with our dog. He is howling at the moon and won’t quit. Perhaps Dad will go outside soon and talk some sense into his head.

  Oh yes, Mom received a letter today from her youngest sister, Sharon. She had her eleventh child at home on Thursday. It’s a girl called Catherine Beth.

  As you can probably tell from this letter, I’m feeling a bit more cheerful, and it’s about time. I’m sure glad you’re feeling so well, so perhaps I should start eating what you eat. It sounds horrible, but very good for a person.

  I love you so much,

  Naomi

  February 7

  Hi, dearest Naomi,

  I’ve been running a temperature all day but kept going with aspirin. I’ve felt funny for the past two days, but who knows exactly where the trouble started? Probably from cleaning all that vomit from the schoolhouse floor. Can you imagine how many germs were in the air?

  Stan had the main sermon yesterday for the first time, and lots of older people were crying. I thought it was because they were being touched by the sermon, but Luella said afterward it was because they missed Bishop Joe. There seems to be a lot of fear that Stan will take the bishop’s place.

  The sermon was on the love chapter in 1 Corinthians, and I thought it was a good message. But what would an Amish boy know about Mennonite problems?

  Luella and I went over the diet last night and decided to keep on with the entire thing for a while yet. The question was the red meat, salt, and nuts, which the instructions said could be introduced slowly at this point. But I’m feeling so much better I hate to rock the boat.

  Tuesday….

  I arrived home from school as usual, and another long evening lies ahead. I’m feeling some better, although my eyes still look bloodshot.

  Since the weather changed the last two days, we’ve been playing outside, and the children are in a much better mood. Outside play seems to remove the jitters from their mental and physical body systems.

  On Friday we have a school Valentine’s Day party planned. Crystal, Dena, and Velma are in charge, and I’m playing along because this is what they’re used to. It also breaks the monotony, as does my funny writing. That would be my attempts to copy your handwriting in portions of this letter. You can see I am very bored. I think the results look better than my normal handwriting, but not better than yours.

  The electric typewriter at the school has me completely spoiled. I noticed this again when Lonnie wanted me to type a paper for him the other evening. I sat down at the manual typewriter they have here at the house and saw at once that I’ve lost much of my speed, which isn’t good. Perhaps if one is Amish, one had better act Amish. But I’m still going to use the other typewriter. It’s simply too tempting.

  At school we have started a countdown. There are sixty-three days of school still to go, which translates into twelve maybe eleven weeks, not counting this one.

  This winter reminds me of the time when you weren’t old enough to date, and I was waiting for spring when you would be. April finally came around, and I could ask you home on a Sunday night. I hope this winter isn’t as long, but it feels so. April did finally arrive back then, and I took you home. You were, by the way, worth every minute of the wait.

  I love you,

  Eugene

  February 8

  Hello, dearest Eugene,

  I was quite puzzled today after receiving this envelope in the mail with very odd writing on it. I figured it wasn’t from you and didn’t use scissors to open it. Then a strange little note fell out with your writing on it. Thanks for the nice surprise.

  Afterward, I laid the little note on the counter. Larry ran by and picked it up and read, “Hi, Sweetheart,” right out loud! The little rascal! Dad heard and chuckled for a long time. Tonight I complained about Larry at the supper table, and he piped up. “Yeah, it said ‘Hi, Sweetheart!’” Anyway, I laughed with them.

  Last night I decided I had enough of Ranger’s howling and got bundled up and went downstairs to let him into the barn. That was what he wanted apparently. So tonight I made sure he was in the barn before I went to bed. No howling Ranger!

  Mom went over to Katie Troyer’s to help quilt this afternoon. Rosanna and I drove into the grocery store in Worthington. I let Rosanna drive. She’ll drive like Don, I think, hugging the side of the road as if her life depended on it. The rest of the day I worked on our quilt. My fingers are a mess, but I love the way it’s turning out.

  Well, I should get to bed, I’m pretty tired.

  Love you so much,

  Naomi

  February 10

  My dearest Naomi,

  Whee! What has come over you—starting songs at the singing? I wish I had been there to hear this. What a shame to have missed the grand occasion.

  You wouldn’t have started the song to impress that Darrell fellow? This sounds quite suspicious and dangerous to me. And you have given him my address. I guess I can be nice and respond. That is—if he writes. He’s probably a nice fellow and all, and I’m sure you’re laughing at me right now. But you are very far away, and you were very much with him.

  You never have to worry about your letters getting long and boring. I don’t think anything from you could be boring, and I read the long ones twice.

  Well…I love you.

  Eugene

  February 11

  Hi, dearest Eugene,

  I’m sitting here in my room eating peanut butter cookies. Oh yes, and writing. I sure don’t know what to expect in your letters anymore. Secret notes written on the inside, and now you try to copy my handwriting. But I do like your version of a return address: “Who knows?” That’s funny and creative.

  Yesterday I arrived home from work and right away had to leave for another babysitting job, so the rest of the family was on their own for the chores. Mom can help if she needs to. And I, after a long evening, arrived home around 10:30.

  The one-year-old wouldn’t go to sleep and still hadn’t settled down when the couple arrived home. Then when I arrived here, all the doors were locked. I had a notion to knock really loud to get Mom or Dad out of bed, but instead I was a nice person and went in through the basement.

  It was pitch-black and Ranger was down there, which I didn’t know. He gave his friendly growl, rubbing up against me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Thankfull
y, I didn’t scream.

  Some of the women are taking a trip to northern Indiana on Tuesday. I think I’m going along and might have a chance to look up my old friend Jolene.

  Stick to your diet now and hang tight because I can see a big difference in your letters. It makes me feel better if I know you’re happy and feeling well.

  Your Naomi

  February 12

  Hi, dearest Naomi,

  Many thanks for the Valentine’s card. It even came early!

  Our school Valentine’s party went well. I didn’t think anyone acted enthused beforehand so I was afraid the day would turn out a dud. Then in the morning they all tramped in holding a bunch of cards and started to pass them out right away. They were all laughing and talking and having a great time.

  The real party didn’t start until 1:30, and everyone had to wait to open their cards until then. I figured they would draw numbers on who exchanged cards but that wasn’t the plan.

  Velma informed me, “Everyone just gives everybody a card.”

  That sounded like a lot of card giving to me, but they turned out to be little, itty bitty cards, so there wasn’t that much work involved in making them.

  They made me stand in front of the school and start the whole affair off with unwrapping my presents. Then they all joined in. I received a round toy ball, a sort of Rubik’s cube imitation, except this is much easier to solve, a watch pen, a box of mixed nuts, and a little octopus that crawls up the wall by itself.

  I felt pretty rotten that I hadn’t purchased any presents for them, but I didn’t know I was supposed to be involved. It was a great time though, and broke up the winter blues for one day at least.

  I’m glad you like my new writing ventures, including the new return address with the misshapen letters. I figured you would open the letter in great joy, hoping it was a new boyfriend or something. I know…I really am bored.

  I told Lonnie and Luella what I planned to do and showed them the address. They were highly amused and thought it a grand idea. Lonnie even said I should take it to another town to mail so the post office stamp wouldn’t be Trenton, but I was too lazy for that. Luella did ask me today how the trick went. I told her, “We’re still dating.” She thought that was pretty funny.