by Linda Ellen
Lilly continued softly, for a moment lost in memories, “Dickie, my sweet brother…he and I were quite close…until he went off to serve in the first Great War. He died in a trench somewhere in Northern France…we don’t even know where he’s buried. But when I listen to Dickie singing, it’s like I’m hearing my brother again…”
Louise drew close then and slipped an arm around her mother as they continued to enjoy the little bird’s energetic song.
You would have thought he was thanking Tommy. And perhaps he was – he had found out the world outside his safe little cage was a bigger and scarier place than he had ever imagined.
*
“And Tommy just shinnied right up that tree and grabbed him?” Vic asked that evening as he and Louise cuddled together in their bed. It had been a long day and he had worked overtime helping his boss on an emergency auto repair job, so when he finally made it home, everyone but Louise was already in bed.
“He sure did,” Louise murmured, fondly shaking her head as she remembered her older son’s heroics that day.
They lay quietly for a few minutes, thinking about what a fine young man Tommy had grown to be. Not for the first time, Vic thanked the Lord that Tommy possessed more of Louise’s traits than his father’s, whom they had not seen nor heard from since he and his new wife had moved to Florida years before. “He’s a fine boy,” Vic nodded. “A fine, fine boy.”
“Yes,” Louise sighed softly, remembering an incident later in the day when she had asked Tommy to watch his little brother for a while, but he had balked and begged off to go and spend time at the house of one of his friends. “I hope Buddy takes after him…but they’re so far apart in age, I’m afraid by the time Buddy gets old enough to do things, Tommy will be out and about, playing sports…chasing girls…”
Vic laughed softly, conscious of the quiet house and the sleeping toddler across the room. “Chasing girls, huh?”
Louise snickered, nuzzling her husband’s neck. “Mmm hmm. He’s one hundred percent male – and isn’t chasing girls something that all males eventually do?”
“Yep…but I had a few girls chase me a time or two,” he countered teasingly, and couldn’t resist adding, “One even chased me clear across town where I was playin’ pool.”
Playing along, Louise pretended to be affronted. “Is that so? Seems to me I don’t recall hearing you complain.”
He chuckled, that low risqué laugh that always made tingles zip down to her toes. “Nope. No complaints from me on that score…except maybe that you don’t chase me often enough.”
“I don’t have to chase you anymore. I already caught you,” she reminded him with that trademark sass he adored. Pressing their lips together as their laughter softly rumbled, they relaxed together against the pillows.
“And about Buddy…” he began softly. “Seein’ that Tommy’s soon gonna be runnin’ around chasin’ all those girls…might be a good idea to start tryin’ to manufacture a playmate for our youngest…”
“Oh yeah?” she murmured softly, running one finger down his cheek and across his smooth lips. “Now, just how will he go about doing that?”
“C’mere and I’ll show ya,” Vic growled softly. With one hand, he reached down and drew the sheet up over their heads and they chuckled together as they sank lower in the bed, their lips merging into a passionate kiss.
Both were hopeful that the manufacturing process would shortly begin.
‡
CHAPTER 29
A Year of Tears and Misery
July of 1949, James Alan Matthews joined the family in the cozy little house on Thirty-Eighth Street.
At six pounds three ounces, and only nineteen inches long, he was a small baby, but his lungs were fine – as the doctor and the nurses in the delivery room would agree. He came into the world like many babies – sounding off about his displeasure at leaving his nice, warm cocoon.
Once again, Vic was proud as a peacock, passing out cigars – “good ones”, not patched this time – to every man he encountered.
Louise spent a restful two weeks in the hospital, but when she and little Jimmy were sent home things quickly turned sour. Stress and angst became the norm at the Matthews’ home, as the newest addition to the family seemed to have a penchant for crying. Actually, terms like screaming and wailing would describe it better.
“Baby cry. Baby loud!” three-year-old Buddy repeatedly complained as the days and weeks lengthened after Jimmy’s birth.
“Yes, I know, sweetheart,” Louise would tiredly answer as she shuffled to Jimmy’s crib to try and alleviate the problem. It seemed no matter what they did, their adorable new son seemed to always end up squalling. Louise and Lilly were certain the child must be in some kind of pain, but repeated trips to the doctor produced no answers. The physician had no idea why their little boy seemed so fitful; suggesting that he may just be unusually susceptible to the hot weather, and it was quite hot in Louisville that summer. Like most people, the Matthews had no form of air conditioning and the nights were especially miserable.
During one doctor visit, Louise broke down in tears of frustration. “But doctor, there has to be something wrong. He cries and screams nearly every time he eats, or sometimes for no reason at all –none of us have been getting much sleep. Can’t you do something?”
Dr. Fleisher, a middle-aged man with black hair, a perpetual five-o’clock shadow, and warm intelligent dark eyes just shook his head as he laid one hand on little Jimmy’s head. “I can find nothing in my examinations, Mrs. Matthews. He has a bit of heat rash, but that shouldn’t be that uncomfortable. Treat it with cornstarch.” Then placing his stethoscope into the pocket of his white coat, he added, “It might just be that he’s a fussy baby. Some babies seem to enjoy crying, I’m afraid. Just keep trying different methods to keep him calm. I’m sure he’ll grow out of it,” he added hopefully, and then with a nod, he quickly made his way out and to the next patient.
Louise rolled her eyes and shook her head behind the doctor’s back as he made his exit from the exam room. At her wits end, she gathered her little son in her arms for the trip home.
*
That evening, Vic entered his home to the now familiar sound of his baby son screaming as his wife and mother-in-law tried their best to find something to alleviate his distress. Vic ground his teeth together, truly in a quandary. As much as he loved his wife and family, the crying and screaming had gotten on his last nerve. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since Louise and the baby had come home from the hospital. Running a hand through his hair, he walked through the house and into the kitchen.
“Here, I’ll make him another sugar tit, that seemed to help some last time,” Lilly murmured as she set about taking a clean cloth, spreading it out on the kitchen table, and reaching for the sugar bowl. Measuring out a tablespoon full, she sprinkled it onto the center and then gathered the cloth around the sugar, twisting it to form a bulb and securing it with a piece of string. Hurrying over, she gently pressed it to Jimmy’s open lips.
Little Jimmy, his face red from the exertion of his crying, seemed to calm a bit, shuddering and relaxing some as he began to suck on the homemade pacifier. Blessed silence ensued.
Uncovering his ears, twelve-year-old Tommy tiredly asked, “Mama, is it okay if I spend the night at Davy’s tonight? His Mom said it was okay with her.”
The pleading look in his eyes tugged at Louise’s heart and she didn’t have the will to turn him down. On the contrary, she almost wished she could go with him! She glanced up at Vic, deferring to him, and he nodded toward his stepson. “You can.”
“Jeepers, thanks!” Tommy exclaimed as he hurried to the room he shared with his grandmother. Quickly pulling a clean pair of pajamas and a change of clothing out of a drawer, he rolled them up together and stuck them under one arm.
As he darted out the back door, Louise called after him, “Thomas Joseph, now you make sure you behave. And be sure and thank Mrs. Blair!” The screen door banged shut
behind him as he called back, “I will Mama!”
Louise drew in a deep breath, enjoying the blessed quiet as she held a softly sniffling Jimmy, who was somewhat contentedly sucking on the homemade pacifier.
Glancing down at her three-year-old, who was leaning against her side watching his brother with narrowed eyes, she smiled lovingly as she marveled what a good child he was. He almost never cried or got upset. Reaching out, she gently smoothed a lock of his dark brown hair as she realized she had taken his goodness for granted.
Looking up at her, Buddy asked petulantly, “Why he aw-ways cwy? He bad. He cwy too much.”
“We don’t know why your brother cries,” she responded gently. “But, at least he’s quiet now,” she added, striving to be upbeat. Leaning to kiss his forehead, she encouraged, “Why don’t you go see how high you can stack your blocks, honey? They’re by the toy box in the living room.”
His big beautiful dark eyes looked up at her again and he gave her a precocious smile. “Otay Mama,” he murmured as he turned to trot down the hall toward his destination. He stopped once and turned, watching with a quiet, brooding expression on his face as his mother held his little brother and his father and grandmother hovered close, gazing down at the baby. Louise glanced over and met his eyes, wondering what her three-year-old was thinking. But, the moment passed and he continued on down the hall to do as she had instructed.
“Well, that seems to have done the trick this time. I’ll get supper started,” Lilly offered as Vic moved to sit down in a chair next to his wife and small son. Lilly smiled at her son-in-law and began to move around the kitchen, gathering the fixings for the meal.
Vic leaned in and gave his tired wife a warm kiss. Pulling back, he asked softly as he laid one hand against the back of little Jimmy’s head and watched him sucking on the cloth, “He been any better today?”
Louise drew in a deep, exhausted breath, flexing her shoulder muscles and striving to work the kink out of her back. “Not really. This is the first time he’s stopped nearly all day. Thank God for Mama’s idea.”
Vic chuckled softly, mumbling, “Sugar tits.”
“Yep.”
“What ever works, right?” he snickered and shook his head as he flashed her a dimpled smile.
She nodded most sincerely and they both watched their baby, noting the tears just beginning to dry on his face, and the expressions in his eyes as he concentrated on his task. Soon, his eyes began to drift shut. Louise knew he had to be exhausted.
“I just wish I knew what was wrong. I don’t care what that doctor says, there’s got to be something wrong with him. He’s in pain, I know it…I know how babies are supposed to act. Tommy and Buddy didn’t cry all the time at this age – I just don’t know how much longer I can hang on…” she paused as tears of fatigue stung her eyes, striving to tamp down the frustration so that Jimmy wouldn’t feel it and start up again.
Vic reached to cup the back of her neck with one warm hand, automatically massaging the tight muscles there. “I know, babe. But maybe he’ll just grow out of it, like the doc said.”
Fighting back the tears and gazing down at her baby, who had finally fallen to sleep, Louise whispered, “I hope so.”
A few minutes later, they were able to lay the baby down and he slept through their suppertime, the first time in a long while. Trying to remember to speak quietly, the three adults at the table repeatedly cautioned their three-year-old to not wake the baby up.
“Hap told me today he wants me to take over runnin’ that parkin’ lot he bought last week,” Vic mentioned as he took a bite of his meal.
“The one on the other end of the block from the station? Third and Chestnut?” Louise asked, wondering how that would work out.
“Yeah. Said he needs somebody over there he can trust,” he added with a touch of deserved pride.
Louise smiled at him and he sent her a wink.
“Does it mean more money?” Lilly asked crisply as she dished out some mashed potatoes onto Buddy’s plate.
Vic shrugged. “Not sure, he didn’t say. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
“At least that’s something good,” Louise mumbled as she nibbled at her dinner and dreamed of the day when she could finally lay down and sleep a full night without interruption.
However, at that moment she couldn’t even see a light at the end of the tunnel.
*
The weeks and months slowly crawled by as the family found ways to adapt to the youngest member’s crankiness, although no answer was forthcoming as to a reason for his bouts of wailing as if in pain. Summer cooled into fall and then winter, followed by another early spring as they learned what to avoid that seemed to make him worse and found ways to distract him if things did escalate.
As he neared his first birthday, little Jimmy began his first attempts to walk upright. One such time, as Lilly was preparing to change his diaper, he crawled to the end of the baby bed and pulled himself up, standing proudly upright. Examining her grandson, Lilly called into the next room, “Louise! Come in here and take a look at something.”
When Louise arrived at her side, they both stood together staring at the baby. He seemed to have developed a growth they hadn’t noticed before; it had only become visible as he was standing straight. Sharing worried looks, Lilly dressed him as Louise made a hurried telephone call to the doctor’s office.
It was there, after a brief examination, that Dr. Fleisher announced, “Well, he appears to have a hernia.”
Louise’s heart jump-started and automatically reached up to grasp her amethyst necklace as tears stung her eyes. “A hernia? My baby has a hernia? But…can you fix it?”
The doctor seemed unconcerned, and in truth he was, as he had seen babies born with hernias quite a few times in his career. “Yes, we can. He’ll need an operation, but he should recover completely. I’d say he was born with it and that is what has been causing him to cry all this time.”
Louise reached for a tissue on the side table and dabbed at her eyes as she watched her little boy lying on the exam table, kicking his legs as he began to fuss. “But…why didn’t you say so before?”
A look of slight embarrassment crossed the doctor’s face for a moment before professionalism once again took over. “In babies so young, an inguinal hernia is nearly impossible to detect,” he explained as he turned and quickly wrote a few notes into Jimmy’s record. “Perhaps one day medical science will come up with a way for early detection. But at present, I’m afraid we just don’t have the means.”
Then turning to the shocked mother as she tended to her baby’s diaper and clothing, he handed her a slip of paper. “I’ve scheduled surgery for him on Monday morning. Bring him to Baptist at seven,” he instructed, speaking of the Old Baptist Hospital. Louise nodded numbly and placed the slip of paper in her purse.
Before the doctor left the room to tend to other patients, he took a moment to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Matthews. Once this little one is over the surgery, you’ll think you have a different baby in the house.”
Then, he was gone out the door and she was left to scoop up her little boy and make her way out to the car. It was a Friday, and Monday had never seemed so far away.
But Monday did come. Vic took off work and together he and Louise drove their baby down to the hospital. Louise held him in her arms as they were directed toward a long hallway with a sign at the end marked, “Surgery. No Admittance.”
Before they reached the doors, a nurse came through them and sailed up to the nervous couple. Taking the baby from Louise’s arms, she flashed a smile at the distraught mother and encouraged, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Matthews. We’ll take good care of him. You can have a seat in the waiting room and we’ll call you when you can come back.” Then, all that was left were the doors swinging shut behind her.
Louise stood with her fingers up to her mouth, striving not to cry as she felt Vic’s arms circle around her from the back.
“C’mon babe. He’
s in good hands.”
And he was.
*
Little Jimmy sailed through the operation and after a week in the hospital, the worried parents were able to take him home.
True to the doctor’s words, Jimmy seemed like a different baby after that. It was immediately obvious that he wasn’t feeling the discomfort he had been plagued with since birth and he seemed determined to celebrate his newfound freedom from pain and irritation.
Once they brought him home, Louise went into overdrive trying to make sure he didn’t hurt himself or tear his stitches. Jimmy seemed oblivious to any danger. It wasn’t long before he was pulling up on everything he could reach, as if he were longing to show his independence. At night, the concerned parents would put him in his babybed and soon he would stand up, clamp his little hands on the end of the bed, and stand there rocking it forwards and back as if he were riding a rocking horse. This went on until he made himself tired and sleepy, at which point he would simply fall down in a little heap in the bed and go to sleep. He did that so much that the screws eventually worked loose and fell out and the bed began to fall apart. Vic resorted to tying it together with a rope! Still, their little boy performed his shake, rattle and roll routine every night.
But at least, the episodes of crying and screaming had ceased, and would never return. For that, they were all extremely thankful.
‡
CHAPTER 30
If Hap Can Do It, I Can Do It
Early Spring, 1954
Vic sat at the desk in the small attendant’s booth, situated at the entrance to Hap’s large parking lot at Third and Chestnut, counting the money from that day’s business in preparation for storing it in the floor safe. As their usual routine, Hap would come by in the morning and pick up the money, add it to the station’s receipts from the day before, and head to the bank to make the deposit. If the lot was full, as it was most days, it could hold nearly one hundred cars. Consequently, Vic dealt with quite a bit of cash on a daily basis.