My Dearest Naomi (33 page)

It’s fine if you find a couple from out there to replace Louis and Martha as table waiters. I think so many of the table waiters are my age or were picked by me, that I’m glad you get to pick one of the couples yourself. My cousin Danny is in for sure, as I received his letter of confirmation last week.

I want to tell you again how different your letters are from what they used to be. You must feel a lot better. They are more cheerful, humorous, and reassuring to me. They never fail to make me feel better.

I’m missing you greatly.

Love you so much,

Naomi

March 9

I can hardly believe it, but it’s snowing outside. If the weather doesn’t decide to change, it will spoil our maple sugar trip on Friday. That would be a shame indeed. Of greater concern, though, are the snow days that may close the school and that, in turn, pushes back my return home.

I finally pulled a trick on Luella for all the agony she has caused me. Tonight when I arrived home the house was still and quiet. I seized the opportunity for the fertile plan rolling around in my head. I checked upstairs to be sure, but there was no Luella cleaning the corners of the bedrooms.

A glance out the window confirmed the pickup was gone. So I headed back downstairs. I found the liquid I needed in the refrigerator—blood-red beet juice, and set the can on the kitchen table. It took a couple of drawers to find an old white rag, which I wrapped around my hand.

I heard the pickup truck come into the driveway, so I spilled a liberal portion of beet juice on the rag and then over my lunch bucket. It was pretty authentic, I thought, so I sat down at the table and practiced my groans.

Oh no.
There was the beet juice still on the table, and Luella was almost at the door. The quick dash across the floor left drips, which wasn’t good for the eventual cleanup, but it was good for effect. I sat back down, grabbed my beet-red rag, and groaned.

“Hi, Eugene,” she said as she entered. “You’re home already.”

I deepened the groan, and the poor woman went white.

“What happened?” she whispered. She couldn’t take her eyes off my bandaged hand. Then she let out a shriek and said, “I’ll get Lonnie!”

That’s the problem with my jokes—they always get too serious. They get serious and I can’t keep a straight face. Just as she was ready to turn and get Lonnie, I broke out in laughter and unrolled the rag. “It was a joke!” I said.

Luella didn’t laugh. I don’t think she believed me until she ran her hand over my arm and found nothing wrong.

“You are a rascal!” she said. “Now clean up my kitchen. What am I going to do with you!”

I got to work cleaning the kitchen, leaving it better than I found it. She looked pleased about that at least.

You must have been feeling pretty mean and ornery when you wrote the letter I received today. My poor head went round and round trying to follow the writing written in circles on the page instead of on the lines. Well, I’ll have to seek out my bags of tricks again.

Ah, I will try writing this backward. So the rest of this letter will have to held up to the mirror to read.

I asked Delmar, one of the young folks here, if he would consider being a table waiter at our wedding. He didn’t know what that was, but he gladly agreed when I explained. I then asked Janie, and she was delighted. So if that holds, we’ll have the missing table waiter couple.

The young people here are really enthused about coming to the wedding. Two or three even said they were coming with or without an invitation.

Well, I’m tired of backward writing, so take care.

Love you,

Eugene

March 11

What an evening! I bring you greetings from the Miller hospital. At least that’s the way it seems around here. Mom and Dad, Rosanna, and Larry are all in bed sick, so I did the chores tonight by myself. I was kicked by a cow, but thankfully I didn’t lose my temper. There was too much to do for wasting energy on anger.

I don’t think I like cows that well, but I will be choring alone for another day from the looks of things. Never fear though, I will survive.

I tried a little experiment tonight by combing my hair differently after I washed it. Of course, you’ve only seen it done the way I always do it, but I think you would have liked the new way. But Mom happened to come up the stairs right then, so I quickly undid my handiwork. She wouldn’t have liked it. I liked it because I think it sort of made my face look longer. I might try it again some evening once this sickness has blown over. That is, unless I myself am laid low and gasping for breath, as your sister Mary describes flu victims at her house. That was a hilarious letter. And don’t you ever try what your brother did. Injecting his own penicillin. I declare, you guys could kill yourselves.

I would so love to speak with you and spend a weekend together for a change. Patience, patience,
Naomi
.

I love you,

Naomi

March 14

I had a hectic day at school, with the third- and fifth-graders getting jammed up in arithmetic. That threw everything into a turmoil, and I had to struggle to keep the other classes on schedule.

The children must have sensed the stress level rising because they looked befuddled, and I think parts of their brains shut down. I wonder why that is? I tried speaking slower and softer, which seemed to help. Anyway, we made it through the day.

Luella hasn’t been feeling well, so her motivation for tricks has been low. Then tonight she was in high form again, but this time I stayed one step ahead of her.

She had a note taped in the mailbox, but there was no letter from you.

I ignored the note and asked, “Where is
Naomi
’s letter?”

“You have to hunt for it,” she said. “It’s a treasure hunt. Isn’t
Naomi
’s letter worth the effort?”

I could see myself hunting through house and barn for hours while she rolled on the kitchen floor in hysterics, so I determined brain power would overcome this obstacle.

“I’ll figure it out,” I said, heading upstairs.

“Suit yourself,” she said, laughing. “You’ll need supper soon for all the hunting still to come.”

“Very funny,” I said from the top of the stairs.

So where was the letter? That was the question. Logic told me Luella would end up in my bedroom somewhere. I followed my hunch, turning things upside down in my room, pulling out drawers, looking in my bed, and sure enough, there it was under the pillow.

Being the kind and good-hearted soul that I am, I couldn’t bear spoiling all her fun, so I meandered back downstairs with a mean look on my face to begin the treasure hunt. She did run me out to the barns, and the pole barns, and the manure spreader. But I also found two letters along the way, one from my grandparents in Canada, and the other from Mary again.

I stormed upstairs waving the two letters, while Luella laughed in the kitchen. It felt better this way, and I guess I needed the exercise anyway.

I agree the diet might be affecting my mind for the better. But I will now cease my ranting about Mr. Hooley. He seems to be a nice person from his letters, and that will be the end of the matter.

The letter from Mary said they greatly enjoyed your overnight stay, which was good to hear.

I wouldn’t mind seeing you in your new hairstyle, if you know what I mean. Just don’t go out in public, please. Right now it would be good seeing you in whatever hairstyle you are pleased to wear.

Thanks for the little card you sent with the words “everyone is lonely without you.” I can say the same thing for you.

Remember I told you I gave Saul’s girls one of your letters to read? Well, they have brought it back and are not satisfied. Janie said she wants one of the
juicy
ones to read. I said, no, she’s not getting any, and that was the end of that.

Love you,

Eugene

March 14

I will write quickly before the time arrives to wash cow udders. I’m still choring by myself, and things are in a hectic mess.

Dad did drag himself out of bed to attend church yesterday, and now he’s paying for it. The rest of the family stayed home, and all this afternoon Mom has been puttering around in the kitchen. She
must
be feeling better. I think she may attempt supper for the two of us. Dad and the others will do good if they keep chicken soup down.

I thought about taking Darrell to the singing by myself, just to tease you, but Harvey’s young folks took him. I had to rush to get ready with all the ill people around, but I made it in time. Afterward, I had a chance to speak with Esther about the table waiter spot for her. She said she didn’t really want to be with Jacob, which is fine with me. I told her I was sorry, that I thought they were about ready to begin seeing each other. She said they were not.

I thought right away that Esther must have turned Jacob down for some reason because there were tears in her eyes. She said it might be best if I place her with someone else. Then Mom told me today that she heard Jacob had asked some other girl home, and he was turned down. Apparently he tried to hide his indiscretion from Esther, but thankfully she found out.

It would be hard to respect a boy like that—who flits around from girl to girl, like a bee testing the flowers. We girls might be pretty like flowers, but we have hearts instead of nectar.

The book
For Women Only
turned out to be for married not unmarried women, so I stopped reading until such time when I need it—like after the wedding.

I love you a lot,

Naomi

March 16

“Humpidy dumpity,” it’s another Wednesday evening, and I am bored silly. Job, in the Old Testament, said, “Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble” (Job 14:1). I think he knew what he was talking about.

My problem with the eighth-grade girls shows no improvement, no matter how hard I try. I don’t seem to have the knack of getting along with either of them. There are clashes, and then there are more clashes. First it was Crystal and Dena, but with Dena gone to Florida for two weeks, Velma has joined arms with Crystal. But I will try to be nice and hope the storm blows over.

I’m on the second to last page of my writing tablet, and this would be the second 100-page tablet I have gone through, scribbling on both sides of the page. I’ll need to purchase a new writing tablet, perhaps this time buying one that has pages with lines because how many boys scribble on paper without lines? Plus, that’s what you use.

Everyone was supposed to wear a green clothing item at school today for St. Patrick’s day. That was a new one on me, but I wore my green shirt. How cute I must have looked.

Today there was no letter, but there really wasn’t one due. Just hoping, I guess.

At noon I made the usual announcement for the game after lunch hour. I said, “We will be playing Cowboys and Indians, and the first graders and me will be the cowboys.”

Right away I knew that hadn’t been said right, but I hoped no one else noticed. On the way outside, Velma got this grin on her face. “Teacher,” she said, “it’s supposed to be ‘the first graders and I.’”

“I know,” I said, thoroughly embarrassed. Crystal giggled all the way out the door.

Saul’s second girl, Amanda, had her first date on Tuesday night with a boy from Arkansas. He has called a few times, Luella said, sort of breaking the ground before traveling up here. I hope they make a success of it. All three of Saul’s girls are nice to be around.

Marylyn and Janie must have some of the same blood in them that you do. They love to go for walks along the road on cold nights after dark, arm-in-arm, marching between the two farms that must be close to half a mile apart. Luella claims that Saul has told them not to, but they won’t listen. I guess he’s afraid someone will pick them up sometime, but I have a hard time imagining such a thing in this calm farming country.

We are having a volleyball game tonight. Thankfully this week has gone by faster, mainly because there has been something going every night since Sunday. Now I’m on the verge of losing too much sleep.

Every week that passes brings me one step closer to seeing you again, and I can hardly wait.

With many longings to see you,

Eugene

March 17

I will try to write slowly before I leave for my babysitting job. I’m not feeling quite up to par yet. Yesterday morning when I got up in time for chores I thought I felt queer and weak. When I looked into the mirror—wow! My face was bright red and felt very hot.