My Dearest Naomi

by Jerry

  I love you,

  Eugene

  February 12

  Hello, dearest Eugene,

  This has been a long, weary day, with Mom and I quilting the whole day. We finished in time for the chores, but I can hardly write now as my fingertips are all chopped up. I’m not the best quilter in the world, let me tell you. So hopefully you aren’t marrying me for that reason.

  Dad is down with the flu—hard. He couldn’t even get out to the barn all day.

  Harvey and his family have gone to Florida for a quick trip with Harvey’s brother, who is Mennonite. They had an offer to go along and couldn’t resist. So we are picking up Darrell tomorrow morning for church, and we are also visiting the other district for a change. Your jealousies are amusing, but let me assure you there is no need to worry.

  I sure hope Dad is better by tomorrow morning or we will have to go to church by ourselves. Either way, Darrell is riding with us. But I am being very wicked, aren’t I?

  Sunday evening…

  What a day—and a very enjoyable one. Dad was able to go to church, and we picked up Darrell for the long haul over to the East district. We visited and laughed all the way. He’s a real corker. He teased me about the wedding and said he wants to be invited when it happens. In fact, he wants to have a part in it. I didn’t make any promises, of course, as it’s a long way in the future, and this could shuffle our table waiter plans.

  Darrell said he wants to join the Amish in the West district since Harvey and his family live here, but that Bishop Enos’s East district is the nicest. I agree, and Darrell must be observant to have figured that out already. He said he wants to live in the East district if he ever gets married Amish. I laughed but he sounded serious.

  And listen to this. Brenda, whom I would guess is getting married this summer, whispered to me after church that they had an accident at their house the other Sunday night. Adam saw her wedding dress. Personally I think she wanted him to see it, but that just goes to show that old wives fables aren’t really true because Brenda and Adam are one of the nicest couples around and deeply in love.

  Don couldn’t go to the singing tonight, so I had to pick up Darrell by myself. I hope you don’t mind, as it wasn’t planned. Believe me, there is nothing romantic about driving a man to the singing and back. Darrell said he would offer to drive, but that he didn’t want to end up in the ditch. He’s practicing some with the buggy at Harvey’s house, but he said he’s still stomping the brake pedal and pressing the gas as if it were a car, even while he’s holding the reins.

  I thought that was pretty funny, but I guess that’s how it would go if you were used to driving a car all your life. Have you ever wondered what the Englisha life is like? I really haven’t, but from what Darrell says it’s not all that interesting. I suppose it all depends on what you grow up with. I know that I babysit for some nice Englisha people.

  Well, it’s time to blow out the kerosene lamp and get some shut-eye. There is another long day ahead of me tomorrow, but it has been a good Sunday.

  I love you,

  Naomi

  February 14

  Dearest Naomi,

  I’m still racking my brains at school trying to come up with interesting things to brighten these winter days. At least the children’s Valentine’s Day party helped, with the aftereffects still lingering.

  There are plans now for a lunch exchange next week, which your sisters suggested. I’ll make the announcement tomorrow so the kids can look forward to it.

  In March we have an appointment to visit a maple sugar camp, with the school board members’ wives getting those plans together.

  I’ve started having devotions a little differently. I used to read out of the Bible storybook, but I’ve switched to a book called Stories from Grandma’s Attic by Arleta Richardson. I think the interest level has definitely picked up.

  It sounds as if you should have fun tomorrow when you take the trip to northern Indiana. I’d be interested in a full account of the day.

  Remember the Rubik’s cube ball I received for Valentine’s Day? Well, the thing is causing marital disharmony at the house. Luella became addicted to it on Saturday evening, trying and trying to solve the puzzle without success. The next morning at the breakfast table I was told the whole sad tale.

  Apparently the time for bed had arrived. They had their devotions, and then Lonnie got into bed. Luella, however, returned to the living room to puzzle over the cube. Lonnie called out that she should come to bed, and that he was cold without someone warm beside him in bed. Luella wouldn’t do it though. She was determined to solve the puzzle. Eventually she gave in and got into bed with him. I told Lonnie that I didn’t have anyone to warm up my bed. He told me, “Yeah, but you’re used to it.”

  On Sunday night down at Saul’s place, Luella went through the whole story again, adding details she had left out in the first telling. Suffice it to say the whole house was roaring with laughter. The cube is still alive and well, but I saw Lonnie looking sideways at it tonight.

  The seventh graders, Velma and Jared, had fun with prepositional phrases in English class. You can get strange results if you put them in the wrong place, and they amused themselves in class until they had me laughing.

  The boy came after the dog with the freckled face.

  The lady pushed the baby, with gray hair.

  He wrote me that I should come visit in a letter.

  There’s a birthday party tonight for one of the youth. That should be fun, but there’s always the pain of having to scrounge for food at such places. I don’t want to create a fuss. There is usually something around to eat, if the people are into rabbit food, which a surprising number of folks are. Life is the pits, as they like to say around here. I will have to be careful not to say that around home.

  Monday…

  My skies are gray and seldom blue,

  This heart so aches and longs for you.

  Oh, darling dear, your face I see,

  Come whisper loving things to me.

  Across the miles, I wait, I look, I hear,

  The sounds of love when you draw near.

  Your Darrell Hooley wrote me a nice letter today, but I am quite suspicious of him. Are you sure he has no designs on you? And this thing about him having a part in our wedding. I don’t know, but I will be civil and reply to his letter. He did sound sincere in his desire to join the Amish, or is his enthusiasm just his Englisha-born ability to express his emotions better? He’s probably not any more excited than what we are about things, but the difference is that we keep it all inside.

  The eighth-grade girls were in top notch mood today. It produces a more pleasant atmosphere at school than when they stalk around like thunderclouds ready to unload their torrential rains. I’m trying to figure out what trips the switch—or if there even is a switch.

  If I force them to do something they don’t want to, they will flare up, but an hour later be back in a good mood. Other times, the bad mood comes when there has been little conflict all day. It’s like walking a tightrope, but perhaps the end of the school week has something to do with the good mood. Who knows?

  You are in my dreams as always.

  With love,

  Eugene

  February 16

  Hi, Eugene,

  I’m going to have to scribble fast and furious if I want to get this out in time for the mailman. I’m back from my first job, and I have to work another one at noon.

  We had an enjoyable trip to northern Indiana. The load consisted of eleven girls, along with Myron in his nice van. There was Ada, Esther, Mary, Rosanna, Betsy, Erma, Kathryn, Rachel, Amy, Susie, and myself.

  We visited one of their schools the first day and ate our lunch there. The way the children behaved didn’t impress me at all. Your school was a miracle in comparison. We then dropped off all the girls, except Esther, who stayed at the school and planned to go home with the teacher.

  I had directions from Mom to Grandpa’s place. They live abou
t two miles from Nappanee. But first we surprised Mom’s sister Laura with a quick visit, and then Dad’s sister Katie, and then Jolene, before going on to Grandpa’s. Rosanna and Betsy stayed with me at Grandpa’s for the night. We walked back to Laura’s place for supper since they all live on the same road.

  Anyway, I was glad I saw Jolene and her son Lawrence. She’s still the same and as slender as ever.

  I miss you so much,

  Naomi

  February 18

  My dearest Eugene,

  I feel like typing, so that’s why this letter is different. I guess I also get tired of doing the same thing every time.

  I had a boring day, with your letter as the lone exception. I had a good laugh over Luella’s addiction to the Rubik’s cube ball. Did she ever solve it? I hope so for poor Lonnie’s sake!

  A lady who says she knows you stopped by today to talk with Mom. Her name is Betty Daniels. I don’t know how they got on the subject, but Mom must have told her that you were my boyfriend because they called me outside to shake hands with her. Mrs. Daniels said her husband thinks a lot of you, and that he isn’t usually so taken with somebody.

  Now I’m going to bring up a subject that will probably not please you, but I have put it off long enough, so here it goes. Mom wants to have the wedding at Wayne Helmuth’s. She claims she spoke with your mom and that she agrees. I can see their point, as it will make things much easier to manage, with all the extra space at Wayne’s place.

  Mom said she doesn’t think we realize everything that’s involved in a wedding, and how many things the cooks need. And Mom would know because of all the weddings she’s served in as cook.

  Dad’s first reaction was no. He said he wanted to have it on our home place, but he listened to Mom’s explanation and ended up agreeing with her. I know you said you wouldn’t be able to relax if the wedding was held at Wayne’s, but just think of everybody else who will be there, and they are all people we know, so perhaps that will help.

  I think this would take a load off my parents’ shoulders. The unhandy thing, of course, is that Mom will have to make plans for the date right away because one of Wayne’s children might also get married around the same time. This would mean spilling the beans, but Mom thinks Wayne’s family will keep quiet.

  I told Mom to wait until I received your permission before saying anything to Wayne. I sure hope this is okay, as it’s hard getting caught between my mom and my boyfriend.

  I’m not looking forward to the coming weekend, since this pain and loneliness make for lousy living. I seem also to have acquired the gift of sarcasm—at least Mom claims so. I do look forward to your return with great anticipation.

  And my typing is greatly lacking, don’t you think?

  I love you,

  Naomi

  February 19

  Hi, dearest Naomi,

  What in the world are you up to with this Darrel Hooley guy? First, he wants to have a part in our wedding, which takes a lot of nerve. He must feel quite comfortable around you because you drive him around in the buggy. And it really doesn’t make any difference who was driving. I’m sure he was enjoying himself.

  Well, I will now calm down—or try to. But you had better not be getting ideas about him or else. I wish I hadn’t mailed a letter back to him, but then perhaps it was for the best. I might now say things I shouldn’t.

  At least I still have humor in the house to amuse me. I came home and Luella had a bottle of aspirin and a fever thermometer taped to her little desk mailbox. That’s where she puts my letters from you when they come. This was supposed to be for my reaction since there were no letters today. I didn’t tell her about Darrel Hooley or she would have brought out the hot water bottle and warm towels.

  Luella has her sinuses blocked right now and is hard of hearing, so I sneaked up behind her after supper with a glass of water. I stuck my arm around a corner and poured water into her collar. She about hit the ceiling and looked ready to kill me, so I don’t think I’m good at practical jokes. I had better leave those to her to pull off.

  Tomorrow will be the monthly singing at the Apostolic church. Last month I missed it because of Lonnie’s dad’s funeral. Both Luella and Lonnie are planning to go with us, as they enjoy that type of singing.

  The Apostolic churches are few in number, Lonnie told me, but they have some connection to the Anabaptist people. He didn’t know exactly how, and I haven’t been able to find out.

  I hope you and Mr. Hooley enjoy your buggy rides together. Hopefully the wheels fall off next time.

  With love,

  Eugene

  February 22

  Good morning, Eugene,

  How are you feeling these days? I hope better than I am. I’ve had a cold since Saturday and a very bad headache since Sunday. I think the walk home from church in the cold air didn’t help things, but I enjoyed it anyway.

  There was a members meeting after church, and Bishop Enos was nice about things, but he said he had concerns that need to be addressed. Personally, I can totally see his point.

  Number one, there has been parts singing happening in church on Sunday mornings. He didn’t say this, but that had to be the men singing bass. I think I’ve heard it myself a few times. Bishop Enos said that we have part singing allowed for Sunday evening, and that it’s supposed to stay there.

  Secondly, Bishop Enos said there have been songs brought into the Sunday evening hymn singings that carry a beat, which tempts people to tap their feet and sway along to the tune. He mentioned “There Is a Way” as an example of such a song. He said the words are fine, but that he’d rather have songs that don’t take away from the words.

  Thirdly, there is the continued issue with some of the youth boys’ haircuts. Bishop Dan said he looked down the row of boys this morning and could only find one boy who hadn’t done something with his hair. He said it doesn’t matter if you call it thinning, or clipping, or tapering—it’s all wrong. Men’s hair is supposed to be cut straight off and that’s it.

  I can fully support Bishop Enos in these matters, and I am glad you don’t fall for any of the new things that come in. At least you haven’t so far, and I hope it stays that way even if you’re teaching in a Mennonite district.

  Tonight some of the young folks are singing for Myron Clark’s wife, who has cancer. Not everyone is coming because there isn’t room at the hospital. Don is going, but as sick as I am, I’m sticking close to home.

  Darrell wasn’t in church Sunday, which I can’t understand. He sure talked like he was staying around the last time I spoke with him. I hope there is a good reason for his absence, and that he hasn’t changed his mind. I think it would be a shame if he gave up joining the Amish so easily.

  With all my love,

  Naomi

  February 22

  My beloved Naomi,

  I’m still trying to catch my breath. The booklet you sent me is absolutely wonderful. I feel like jumping up and down like a little kid. And if you were here, I would give you hug. So a letter hug has been sent back your way.

  That was nice of Betty Daniels to put in a good word for me. But you already knew I was wonderful, right? Just kidding. I’m actually an awful person, but I would like to give them a wedding invitation because they are good friends of mine. We will have to see, I guess. I know we can’t invite all our friends.

  You didn’t have to be so scared about my agreeing to have the wedding at Wayne Helmuth’s place. I don’t exactly like the idea, but it’s okay. Your parents are making the wedding, so they get the final decision on such things.

  I know what you are talking about when you say that you dread the weekends. I haven’t enjoyed them since I came out here, and here’s a little poem about that.

  The weekend days that come to me,

  Have little life and joy to see.

  They lack the spark and love I knew,

  When I could share them all with you.

  Oh, Luella never did solve the Rubik’s ball. Sh
e gave up trying, so Lonnie is a happy man.

  Wednesday…

  It seems like the weeks around here are meant to be an endurance test of sorts, and here I am in the middle of another one. Yet the weekends are even worse, so I will stop complaining now. Anyway, it’s my own fault I’m out here.

  How are you and Mr. Darrell Hooley getting along? Any buggy rides planned for this weekend? I don’t own a car or I would offer a Mennonite girl a ride to church. Just joking—well, sort of. And you shouldn’t drive him to the hymn singings by yourself.

  At the moment I’m at the house by myself. I forget where Luella said they would be at. Perhaps some doctor’s appointment, although they both looked healthy this morning.

  I still haven’t shaken the flu, but it’s not really that bad so I haven’t been saying much. It will blow over soon, I suppose. At least I didn’t have to call off any days of school.

  I forgot to mention the hymn singing went well Sunday night. My foggy head kind of spits information out at odd times, and sometimes days after the fact. They had a four-man quartet singing, harmonizing beautifully. The tenor went so high I thought he’d rupture himself. I didn’t know a man could sing such high notes. They were pure blasts of joyous sound.

  A group of fourth graders also sang, which made our school singing sound like dragging a bag of feed across the barn floor.

  I keep reading deeper into the booklet you sent. I’m enjoying all the nice little things you say. Where did you find the time to put this together for me? It’s really wonderful. I hope you didn’t show it to Mr. Hooley first.

  Yes, I am being nasty, but I will try to be sweet now.

  Lonnie and Luella have invited me along next Sunday when they travel to the Amish community in Fairfield. That should be interesting, although I don’t think it will involve Amish church attendance.