by Diane Moody
He leaned his head back on the pillow, crossing one arm over his head. As he often did after reading Hans’ letters, he tried to picture himself in their world. He wondered what it would be like to live in a land dotted with those big windmills. He wondered what it must look like to see everyone riding bicycles to and from their destinations. And he wondered what it felt like to have that Hitler nut just across the border breathing down your neck. Hans said everyone in The Netherlands was nervous about the Germans.
Danny’s only worry was if the Cubs would make it to the World Series.
How different, their worlds.
3
October 1938
Dear Hans,
I still can’t believe it. Our Cubs made it all the way to the World Series, then they lost the first four games! FOUR GAMES! The first two games were played here at Wrigley. We couldn’t get tickets. Probably just as well. Dad would’ve killed me if he found out I skipped school to go, but I sure wanted to. But everybody’s real upset. We were so sure this was our year! People keep blaming Dizzy Dean for letting us down, but I think they should get off his back. If it wasn’t for him, the Cubs never would’ve made it to the World Series. I don’t know, I’m just real sore we lost.
In your last letter, you said your mother was not well. Is she better now? I told Mom about her and she promised to pray for her.
Joey said he’s getting used to being in the military. He seems to like being stationed in Norfolk, but hopes to get assigned to a ship soon. I wish I could go see him. He said I’d love living near the ocean.
Well, I need to do some homework. I have a test in English Literature tomorrow. I just realized you all probably don’t have any kind of English classes. Do you study Dutch writers?
Bye for now,
Danny
The months flew by as fall gave way to winter. But for Danny, Christmas 1938 just wouldn’t be the same. He couldn’t get used to holidays without his big brother around. On Christmas Eve, they drove out to his grandparents’ farm in Sandwich, a rural community west of town. He loved visiting the big farmhouse and helping his grandfather feed the livestock. He wished he could spend the holidays there, but Dad never took much time off work and wouldn’t hear of leaving his wife and son in the company of her family for that long. Dad didn’t much care for Mom’s kin, and the feeling was mutual. Still, Danny was glad they could spend most of the day on the farm. A light snow fell all day which made it just about perfect.
The following week, Danny worked as many hours as he could at the grocery store. One night, as he was helping Mr. Chaney close up, he put on his jacket to take out the trash. As he rolled the big trash barrel out to the alley, he heard the faintest whimper. Following the sound, he discovered a puppy hiding behind the big garbage bin.
Danny squatted down to get a better look at the pup. “Hey, little fella. What’re you doing back there?” The pup pulled back when Danny reached out his hand toward him. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” He could tell it was some kind of beagle mix, though dirt and mud covered much of its coat. He could see the dog’s ribs under all that mess.
“Danny? Where are you? Let’s call it a night.”
“Over here, Mr. Chaney.” He waved the older man over. “There’s a little puppy back here. Looks like he could use something to eat. Okay if I give him some scraps out of the trash here?”
His boss came closer to take a look. “Well, hello there, little fella. Look at him—he’s shaking like a leaf. Think we should take him inside to warm up?”
“Not a bad idea. Awful cold out here.”
As Danny slowly leaned closer to the pooch, it backed up against the brick wall and let out the most pitiful cry. “At least he’s not growling or baring his teeth at me,” Danny said as he moved in closer. He carefully held out his hand for the dog to sniff. “There you go, little fella. I just want to help.” The puppy sniffed and sniffed, then slowly started licking Danny’s hand.
“He probably smells those vegetables you were sorting earlier. See if he’ll let you pick him up.”
And in one gentle, swift move, Danny scooped the pup into his arms and held him tight. Mr. Chaney opened the door and followed Danny and his new friend inside.
“Let’s give him some dog food just to be safe. I’ll be right back,” the grocer said.
A couple minutes later they watched as the dirty hound gobbled down the contents of a large can of Alpo.
“Whoa! I can’t believe how fast he ate that. Think we should give him more?” Danny asked.
“Actually the question is, should we give her more.”
Danny took a peek, and sure enough the he was a she. He laughed, giving the dog a rub behind her ears. She immediately crawled up in his lap and started nuzzling around inside his jacket.
“I’d say she’s probably had enough to eat. Don’t want to give her too much too fast. Might make her sick if she hasn’t eaten in a few days.”
Danny pulled her head out of his jacket and took a long look at her. “Well, little lady, what are we going to do with you?”
Mr. Chaney stood up. “Can’t leave her here. That’s for sure. I reckon you’re going to have to take her home for the night.”
Danny wondered what his dad would say, but realized he had no choice. For years, he and Joey had begged their dad for a dog until they finally just gave up. But surely Dad would understand. Poor little dog couldn’t be left out in the cold on a winter’s night in Chicago.
Thankfully, Dad was gone by the time he got home and his mother was already in bed. Danny snuck the dog up the stairs and into his room. “Now, whatever you do, keep quiet.” He grabbed some blankets out of the hall closet and made a bed for her beside his own bed. She seemed content to curl up in its warmth, her big brown eyes following Danny’s every move. After brushing his teeth, he quietly made his way back to bed where, for the next half hour, she whined as she tried over and over to climb up onto the bed with him.
“All right, all right. But just for tonight. And keep it down, will ya?”
He put the blankets at the foot of his bed and lifted her onto them. She walked in circles, sniffing here, scratching there. She made one final circle and curled herself against Danny’s leg. He reached down and scratched her head. “No matter what Dad says, first thing we do tomorrow is give you a bath,” he whispered. “You stink!”
She let out a long sigh and quickly fell asleep. As his eyes grew heavy, Danny couldn’t help thinking this might not be such a bad Christmas after all.
By New Year’s Day, the scrawny little pup had already begun to put on some much-needed weight. She’d also won the hearts of his mom—and his father. Danny couldn’t have been more shocked when his dad finally agreed to let him keep her.
“It’s a big responsibility. First time I find her making a mess on the floor or tearing up the furniture, she’s gone. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take good care of her. I promise.”
“See that you do.”
Then, the strangest thing happened. Dad knelt down on one knee and gave her a good long rub on the back of her neck. Danny watched, surprised at the tender display of affection.
“She’s a fine girl. Reminds me of a dog I had when I was a kid.” His dad sniffed then stood up as if he’d had enough.
“You had a dog once?”
“A beagle. Looked a lot like her. Named him Barney. That dog went everywhere with me.”
For the first time, Danny looked at his father with different eyes. He tried to imagine a younger version of Frank McClain and the dog named Barney. The image didn’t come easily in his mind, but he liked the idea of it.
“What happened to him?”
“Idiot neighbor accidentally ran over him. Took me a long time to get over it.” He leaned back down and patted the pup’s head. “See that you keep her out of the street. We’ll get the backyard fence all fixed up so she can’t wander off.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll take real good care of her. You’
ll see.”
His father stood and headed for the stairs. “What are you going to call her?”
“Sophie. I think I’ll call her Sophie.”
January 2, 1939
“Danny?” his mother called up the stairs. “Mail’s here. You have a letter from Hans and we have a postcard from Joey!”
Danny flew down the stairs with Sophie at his heels. “Holy cow, I lost all track of time. Mail man came early today, huh?”
“Maybe he knew how anxious we were to hear from Joey.” She handed him the letter from Holland with the familiar lettering as he followed her down the hall to the kitchen.
“Whoa—this letter was stamped more than a month ago. I wondered why I hadn’t heard from him in a while. That’s slow, even for The Netherlands.”
“Perhaps the holidays slowed down their mail service. I hope all is well with Hans and his family,” Mom said. “But first, let’s take a look.” She flipped the postcard over to look at the picture. “Goodness me—this is Times Square in New York City! Although this picture looks like it was taken in the spring or summer. I’d expect folks to be wrapped up in coats and hats in the dead of winter, not linen suits and cotton dresses.”
Danny took a closer look at the picture. “Imagine that. New York City! Think he’s rubbing in it?”
“Your brother? Of course he’s rubbing in it. Now, let’s see what he has to say.”
Happy New Year from New York!
Me and the guys got a last minute leave so we caught a bus up here for a couple of days. But I sure missed spending Christmas with you. Thanks for the nifty sweater and the socks and cookies. I had to hide the cookies so the guys wouldn’t eat them all! Right before I left the base, I got my orders. I’ve been assigned to the USS Oklahoma in the Pacific Fleet! They’ll fly me out to San Francisco to board her 1 March 1939. I’ll try to call you before I leave Norfolk.
Miss you!
Love, Joey
“Wow! He’s going to the Pacific,” Danny said. “He’s gotta be excited about that.”
“But that’s so far away.”
“And he gets to fly all the way to San Francisco! Man, I wish I could fly in an airplane. That’s gotta be swell, way up there above the clouds. I wonder how long a flight all the way across the country will take?”
She shook her head. “I wish they weren’t sending him so far away. Now we’ll never get a chance to visit him. I’d hoped we could make a trip to see him sometime this year.”
“Really? You think Dad would be okay with that?”
Her countenance fell. “Oh, sweetheart, I doubt it. You know how he is.”
“But Mom, Joey sounds really happy, don’t you think?”
She tilted her head to one side. “Yes, yes he does. I just hope and pray he won’t go near all that trouble overseas.”
“Oh, don’t worry. That doesn’t involve the U.S. He’ll probably be having the time of his life. You’ll see.”
She looked at him over her glasses. “Danny, I wish I was as optimistic as you. You always look for the best in situations. I wish I had more faith so I didn’t worry so much.”
“But you’re a mom. Moms are supposed to worry,” Danny teased, grabbing his letter and heading down the hall. “C’mon, Sophie. Let’s go find out what’s happening in Holland.”
The beagle followed him up the stairs and into his room, jumping up on the bed before he even sat down. She never left his side when he was home, never happier than when she was curled up beside him on the bed.
He used the letter opener his mom had given him for Christmas to slit open the envelope. He sat on his bed beside Sophie and unfolded the pages.
Dear Danny,
How was your Thanksgiving? From what you described, it sounds like such a special holiday for you and all Americans. Although I cannot imagine what this “stuffing” you mentioned must taste like. But I do think I would like your pumpkin pie.
I know well these cranberries! They are quite popular here in The Netherlands. We learned about them last year at school. A long, long time ago, an American shipwreck came ashore in the northern Netherlands province on the island of Terschelling—including a barrel of cranberries. The man who found them was disappointed to find the sour berries, hoping the barrel was full of wine. He dumped the barrel in the dunes. My teacher said the sandy bog was the perfect ground for the berries to grow and we’ve had them ever since. When I read of your Thanksgiving tradition of cranberries, I thought of that shipwrecked crate as a gift from your America to my homeland and I laughed. Should I say thank you? Bedankt!
We just celebrated Sinterklaas on December 5, and had a wonderful time. As is custom, we give each other presents that we make ourselves—sometimes silly, sometimes thoughtful and nice. You have to wrap each present and write a poem to go with it, then the person who opens the gift must read the poem aloud. It’s very funny, going around the room hearing all these poems, most of them very clever. I gave my sister Anya a small wooden pig which I had carved myself. Whenever I ask my little Anya to do a favor for me, she always says, “When pigs fly!” So I carved little wings on this pig and made up a funny poem about Anya flying away on her little pig. She laughed and laughed, then suddenly she started to cry. When I asked her why, she gave me a hug and said, “Because you did something nice for me, and I am always such a nuisance to you.” I have no understanding of why that made her cry. Perhaps I shall never understand girls.
We’re about to go skating, so I must close. Most of the kids our age in the village are going. We plan to make a day of it, skating on the canals past all the windmills. It is very common to do this, and all along the way families set up tents to feed the skaters. Everyone joins in and has a wonderful time. Some day you must visit me and we shall skate by all those windmills you like so much!
Prettige Kerstdagen en een Gelukkig Nieuwjaar, Danny! That means “Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.” I thank God for the American friend He gave me in you, and I hope He will make us life-long good friends.
Hans
4
February 1939
“I love snow as much as the next guy, but this is ridiculous.”
The blustering snows off Lake Michigan kept Danny busy each day after school and most of Saturday if he wasn’t working for Mr. Chaney. He’d get home, have a quick snack and play with Sophie for a couple of minutes before bundling back up and heading out to shovel snow for his neighbors. Lots of his friends made money this way too. They all had their own territories. Danny did his best to keep the sidewalks and driveways of the two block area surrounding his home near the corner of Yale Avenue and 80th Street. Ordinarily that was an easy task, but 1939 had brought layer upon layer of the white stuff, often negating his efforts from the previous day.
As he stepped out on his front porch, he looked up, noticing the sky was clouding up again. Better get to it. He yanked his knit cap down low to cover his ears then pulled on his heavy work gloves and grabbed his shovel. He always stopped first at Mrs. Martello’s house across the street and two doors down. Recently widowed, the portly old lady insisted on a clear pathway to her sister’s house next door. Danny knew if he didn’t keep it clear, she’d try to make the short walk and probably end up falling.
“Oh, there you are! I was wondering if I’d see you today. I need to take a loaf of bread over to Angelica’s, but as you can see my walkway is covered again.”
“No problem, Mrs. Martello. You know I always come here first. I’ll have it cleared for you in just a jiffy.”
“Thank you, Danny,” she called, already heading back into her house.
Danny got right to work, all too aware the snow had begun to fall again. Twenty minutes later, he stomped his snow-covered boots up the steps of her house and knocked on the door. When she opened it, she was putting on her heavy coat.
“Mrs. Martello, it’s snowing again. I cleared the sidewalk, but it already has another fine layer. Why don’t you let me take that bread over to your sister?”
“Nonsense and horse feathers. I go every day. Why would I let a little snow stop me? I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow, Danny.”
He looked down the street at the six houses he’d hoped to shovel, but knew he couldn’t let her make the walk alone. “Well, if that’s the case, then I insist you let me come along. Wouldn’t want Miss Angelica to go without that loaf of bread.” He offered his elbow to her.
“Why, aren’t you the nicest young man! I’d be most grateful. Now, just give me a minute while I put on my gloves.”
He felt sure the minute was more like five, but he tried to wait patiently. When she was finally covered from head to toe, he helped her down the porch steps and across the brick walkway. Once there, she had a chatty visit with her sister. It’s not like you all don’t talk on the phone several times a day, he thought. Why the two women didn’t just move in together, he had no idea.
Fifteen minutes later, he returned her safely to her home, in spite of a couple of close calls coming up the steps. She tipped him an extra dollar for the favor and sent him on his way.
The snow twirled about in heavy, silent rhythms. He was used to shoveling in all kinds of weather, so he stuck it out. By five o’clock, he’d finished the McPherson’s, the Lendowski’s, and the Langley’s houses, and decided to stop. The streetlights helped, but shoveling in the dark could be dangerous. He’d have to do the other two tomorrow. Hopefully the snow would let up by then.
His mother opened the door as he stepped onto the porch. “I was about to come looking for you. It’s late, Danny. Come inside and get warm. I don’t want you catching your death of cold out there.”
“Be right in. Something sure smells good. What’s for dinner?”