My Dearest Naomi (8 page)

What I most enjoyed this evening, though, was reading your letter, especially since this is the first one this week. I think I’ve read it four times already. You said you had written a letter but decided not to send it because it sounded too depressed. You should have sent it anyway. I want to know how you feel, good or bad. I was sorry to hear that you’re depressed, and I hope and pray that by the time this letter reaches you, you’re feeling much better.

I was very happy that you liked the poem! I was afraid maybe you wouldn’t because I know I’m not the best judge of poetry. But to me that particular one stood out from all the rest in the book, so I decided you just might like it.

You said people out there don’t have much confidence that you will stay true to me. I miss you greatly, but I know you didn’t go to Iowa to get away from me, so I’m not worried. I have complete trust that you will stay true to me. And there is nothing in the world that will keep me from being true to you. I mean that with all my heart, and I hope you don’t doubt it. The thought has crossed my mind, supposing you meet some
girl. It wasn’t that I was doubting you, it’s just that I’m sure there are a lot of girls nicer than me who would be better for you than I am. I often don’t feel worthy of you.

Mom said she doesn’t care a whit how often I write you, as long as it’s not every day. So I’ll say again, please write as often as you want to. I welcome every letter from you with joy!

It’s really cool tonight and supposed to frost. “Already!” I exclaimed at the supper table when Dad shared the weather forecast. So I moved my plants in off the roof after dinner. It’s really clear outside. Wow! I guess it isn’t evening anymore, it’s 12:40.

Oh, another thing, I ordered a “string art” kit through the mail, as I wanted something to do in my spare time. So “Miss stingy” spent some of her money. The kit is of a horse head, and I think I’m going to like doing it.

Yesterday was Mom and Dad’s anniversary and also Dad’s birthday. Last Wednesday Elena Marshall told me she’d decorate a cake for them, and she brought it over last night. It was very nice, but not as nice as your going-away cake was. That was a beautiful cake, which wasn’t very fitting for such a sad occasion.

You wrote about the Christmas dinner at Burkholders’—how I wouldn’t have batted an eye at you. When I read that I burst out laughing. If you had known me better, you would have realized that I did care for you even then. That’s why I ignored you most of the time. I was and still am sometimes a little perverse.

Back then I wasn’t at all sure anything would work out between us, and you had dated you-know-who for a while. Before I’d leave for a young folks gathering, I’d resolve not to look at you. I told myself I didn’t care for anyone, especially you. But then I’d see you at the gatherings, and all my resolve would fly out the window. I’d get so mad at myself and try all over again the next time. You were and still are irresistible to me. I’m also a bit of a pessimist, and I always figured for you to have feelings for me would be too good to be true.

Your letter warmed my heart. Thank you for the beautiful poem. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you that I love you…and see the love in your eyes for me. Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t tell you more often how much you mean to me while you were here. But I guess I know why. Always when I want to express my deepest feelings, I get all tongue-tied or I’m afraid it’ll sound dumb. Yet I never think it sounds dumb when you
say sweet things. I get so mad at myself sometimes! Maybe I’ll carry a pencil and paper along, and when I feel like expressing myself I’ll hand you a note. Now wouldn’t that be silly?

Well, it’s now one o’clock. Maybe I should stay up all night, but I’m very sleepy, and it’s very chilly with my window wide open. Ah, what glories to curl up under the covers on a brisk night with a clear open view right into the starry heavens. Mom says I have no one to blame but myself when I wake up in the middle of the night with my teeth chattering, but it’s still worth the experience.

Lots and lots of love,

Naomi

September 19

I’m awfully lonesome tonight and just finished reading, and rereading, your last letters. Especially the one with the wedding news. I don’t know about someone taking you to the table. You’re scaring me a little. I hope that nasty character from Holmes County wasn’t too handsome. Maybe he can take his buggy out in the middle of all that tourist traffic and lose a wheel or something. I know you weren’t to blame, so I’ll calm down now and control myself.

I can picture how your room is situated after the furniture moving. Is this a girl thing or something—moving things around compulsively? I’d leave things where they are forever. It’s more comfortable that way. And doesn’t it feel different to sleep on the floor? But perhaps there is some attraction to it that I don’t get.

Oh, weekends! I fairly wail from my miserable times and from the sorrows that afflict my soul. Time drags like the stars in their courses. I search for hope that each moment might be better than the last, only to find myself again brokenhearted, lonely, and longing to see your face. But I guess I’d better stop my wailing and fill you in on the news.

I was up to the schoolhouse last night, and all the sparrows were dead. News which fits my current feelings, but I will say no more. So we caught five new sparrows late last night. Maybe this time they will eat. The ones who died had not. I turned the two doves loose because the cages were too small for them so I pitied them.

Here is a list of the schoolchildren.

Dawn—average size, chubby, and quiet

Brandon—blond, very confident, and smartest of the class.

Will likely be a broad-shouldered giant when he grows up

Laverne—He’s a wheezy, frail, sickly boy who has asthma and allergies. He can’t stand to be around dust, not even to work on the blackboard

Anthony—looks almost identical to Mark, one of the other first graders, even though he isn’t related. Has a thin, short, wispy sort of body frame

Mark—often scared and crying, and then acts extra big to make up for it

Note: One first grader who had planned to attend didn’t come this year. The parents thought she wasn’t mature enough

No pupils

Lacie—a pretty, bright-eyed, little, round-faced girl

Norman—black-haired, always jolly, full of boundless energy. A brother to Dakota and Dawn

Larry—a jolly fellow who reminds me of a turtle, slow to get in gear, slow to think, and slow to everything. A brother to Anthony, but he doesn’t look like it. Maybe they swapped the babies at the hospital by accident

Lester—blond-haired, walks straight as a stick, and a brother to Velma and Laverne

Sharon—small, petite, and rolls her eyes like a sophisticated lady

Dora—stout girl, very cheerful, and would make some Amish boy a perfect farmer’s wife. She’s a sister to Lacie

Dakota—short, quiet, smart, and a sister to Norman and Dawn

Lydia—a happy girl, always talking, and has a very bright outlook on life

Dennis—short, chubby, happy, and a brother to Crystal

Jackie—a very good-natured, black-haired girl. She has an incurable eye disease, which they expect will blind her someday. Sister to Jared and Mark

Velma—thin, active girl, who runs like a deer on the playground. Smart as a whip, and a sister to Lester and Laverne

Jared—dreamy sort of chap who would rather be anywhere but in school most of the time. A brother to Jackie and Mark

Dena—a laughing, dark-skinned girl, but given to moods

Crystal—bold, adventurous, and will likely take life by storm. A sister to Dennis. She also has a brother in the young folks group

Note—Both the sixth and seventh graders act sweet on each other, so I guess they start them young out here. In two of the couples who date among the young folks here, the girls are only fifteen

I miss you greatly,

Eugene

September 19

Greetings of love.

You said in one of your nice letters that you wonder if I’m going to look and act the same when you see me again. I suppose I will—at least I hope I will—and if not, perhaps it will be for the better. Let’s keep our courage up. Life can bring strange things to our doorstep.

It sounds like you’re really busy in school and having an interesting time studying commas and semicolons. I loved English in school, but I may have forgotten some of it. Still, it shouldn’t take much to refresh those things.

It’s a chilly evening here, and as you can see I didn’t get anything written yesterday. This was the first Sunday since you left that I felt so relaxed. I don’t think it was you though. I mean because you weren’t here, but maybe because I’m getting used to the routine without you. Life does keep going on, no matter what.

I helped clear off the boys’ table after church, with them still sitting there, and didn’t get nervous once, even when they teased me about you being gone. One of them dared bring up that Holmes County boy, and I gave him a good glare. Of course, that made them laugh all the more. Well, they will get over it. They know good and well how things stand between you and me.

Congratulations on the peanut butter making. There aren’t many boys who would dare tackle something like that.

I enjoyed hearing about your nature project and the other things at school.

Sister Betsy said your sister Mary told her they have only received one letter from you so far. Betsy said I should write you and tell you to write them too, that it isn’t fair, and I guess it isn’t. If you want to write them more and me less, that’s okay because they miss you a lot.

We’re having the usual
ordnungs
church next Sunday, where we get our minds refreshed by Bishop Enos going over the rules of the church. But I suppose it’s necessary. And then communion in two weeks from that Sunday. Both districts are joining together for communion Sunday. I guess we are still small enough in numbers that they can fit the whole community into Wayne Helmuth’s big house. At least they can for one day.

I can’t think of anything more to write because, as I’ve told you, life gets so boring around here sometimes.

With all my love,

Naomi

September 20

One of your wonderful letters arrived today, bringing with it cheer and good humor. It was the one you penned on the Thursday night you didn’t get to bed until Friday morning. That’s sounds funny! You were up with the night owls?
Yah.
But you really should be getting your sleep, dear one.

The sparrows I installed on Saturday evening at the school are doing fine, flitting and jumping around. They eat during schooltime, scattering seeds all over their pens.

Surprise, surprise! Jared brought a mouse to school this morning, a furry little thing that peeked out from under a blanket. He came complete with a cage Jared had made himself. How about that?

Jared admitted, rather sheepishly, that their cat had caught the mouse and was playing with it in the yard. I guess the whole family rushed to the rescue, only to place the poor thing in prison here at school. Talk about a mouse’s hopes raised and dashed again.

The rest of the school has finally fallen into a boring routine, which is good I guess. The students sit at their desks, hard at work, as I rush about as quietly as I can conducting classes.

While I think of it, let me pass on this piece of church news. That is, if you are into this type of thing. I love this sort of history.

The church here belongs to a small group of what are called “The Sleeping Preachers” churches. They are the remnant of a Mennonite revival from the late 1870s when, in reaction to a rapid liberal drift, a few preachers developed an unusual method of delivering sermons called “spirit preaching.” They would appear to fall asleep in the early evening, rising a few hours later in a trance to preach on the themes of repentance, spiritual renewal, and a return to simpler lifestyles.

This explains some of the unexpected characteristics of this Mennonite church. Because I’m interested in such things, Lonnie gave me some of the Sleeping Preachers sermons to read. I can’t say I was very impressed, but they contain some good things. It explains why so many in this church are opposed to cameras and Sunday school. Both things were preached against strongly by the spirit preachers.

On other matters, I enjoyed the singing on Sunday evening, which was at another church. It reminded me of home, although that certainly didn’t help my loneliness. There were around 450 people in attendance,
and they started the evening with the whole group singing for fifteen minutes. After that, their Bible class of young people sang, followed by a choir of sixty men and women. To finish things off, the audience sang a few more songs. Most of the songs I didn’t know, but all the singing was without musical instruments. The church belongs to the Apostolic churches.