My Dearest Naomi (7 page)

When she got back and asked about it, he had excuses for everything. I thought they were quite lame because I had been there the whole time and
saw what he did, well, rather what he didn’t do. We never talk to each other unless he feels he absolutely has to say something. Then he says the words in a tone that makes me feel like he doesn’t think I have the right to even look at his face. He goes away to college at the end of this month. Yippee!

How is school? I hope still good. Betsy and Larry are jumping right into the routine again and seem happy about it. By the way, yesterday I drove into Worthington to get furniture polish for my room. I saw the Bryans are still not finished with their garage. Maybe they’re remodeling the house too. Remember, that was the last job your dad’s crew worked on before you left.

Another of Mom’s
Englisha
friends, Della, was here tonight to give me something for my hope chest and to cheer me up. She knows how lonely I get without you. She gave me a set of three glass dishes—one small and two larger. They’re beautiful and made of clear glass—almost crystal-like.

I’m reading a sample religious magazine we received in the mail. It’s called the
Fundamentalist Journal.
I was a little surprised Dad allowed it in the house. While it’s still here, I’m busy reading it. Everything I’ve read so far, I’ve agreed with. The magazine says a fundamentalist is someone who believes the Bible is inspired by the Holy Spirit and readily accepts Jesus’ virgin birth, sinless life, victorious death, literal resurrection, ascension into heaven, and His second coming. That sounds like Amish beliefs would fit in there somewhere.

My thoughts often go your way. I wish you were here.

Love you,

Naomi

Monday evening, September 13

I was so glad to get a letter from you again today. I don’t think I’m ever going to get over my lonesomeness for you. It gets worse instead of better, and if you look forward to getting my letters as much as I do yours, well, I’m going to write as often as I can.

Tonight it was two weeks since I arrived. It seems more like two years, and I wonder if you’re going to look and act the same when I see you again.

I worked tonight at the school until eight o’clock, after coming home for supper at six and then walking back there again. The reason for the late hours is that the Bible course they use doesn’t have a teacher’s edition, so I have to work everything out ahead of time.

I have to keep on my toes with the daytime schedule of classes, rushing to get through most days. I’m tempted to cut corners whenever the opportunity arises. One such chance has been with the reading classes. It takes so long for each class to read the story during class time. Yet the first and third graders absolutely have to read everything out loud since they need the practice. In the other grades it isn’t as important, I figure, so I’ve been allowing them to read the story at their desks. We only check the answers to the comprehension questions in class.

The sixth graders are struggling with subjects and predicates, so we practice and practice, which takes time. Today we started on commas and semicolons, and tomorrow it will be dependent and independent clauses. Then we’ll cover simple, compound, and complex sentences.

So it goes, but it’s gratifying work. I don’t think I’ve ever had a job I’ve loved as much as teaching. It’s just a shame it doesn’t pay more so I could make a career out of it.

By the way, I’m eating more now and slowly gaining weight.

I miss you,

Eugene

September 14

“For God is my record, how greatly I long after you” (Philippians 1:8). I know I’m misusing the Scripture in that verse, but it says what I feel, so there. We’ve had warm, warm weather around here the past few days. My hair and face were soaking wet from playing with the children during the noon hour. I’ve been outside with them almost every day, going inside the schoolhouse ten minutes before bell time so I can calm down enough to read the after-lunch story. It’s fun joining in their games, and the children love it. Maybe I’m still a little kid at heart.

I came home from school at 4:30 today so I could get ready for the progress supper. That’s where you ride from place to place, getting one food item at each stop. Whoever came up with such a wild idea, I don’t know. I’ll have to see what everyone else does, but I think I’m going to eat my food items hot when they are given to us.

Ah, here is my ride, so I’d better go.

Here I am again at ten o’clock, just home from the progress supper thing. I’m going to rush since I need my sleep if I plan to teach school tomorrow without yawning all the time.

They used a tractor and wagon piled with hay bales to take us from place to place. The stops were far apart, so we had a lot of time to visit. Everyone had a paper plate, fork, knife, spoon, and napkin. We stopped at each place and lined up outside the front door. Then we filed through the kitchen to get our one food item.

Someone must have been really bored to come up with this game. We were given mashed potatoes first. A mile down the road we got the gravy. Lonnie and Luella were the third stop with their corn. Like I expected, everyone ate their portions on the ride to the next place. Which was fine with me, and it did make for a fun time. The boys hollered, and the girls screeched out their frustrations.

The whole list was potatoes, gravy, corn, bread, meat, salad, boiled carrots, and more vegetables. The dessert was an ice cream mix of some kind. This tastes worse than you might imagine. If you don’t believe me, try eating gravy or boiled carrots by themselves! At the last place, we played a
game called Crows and Cranes. Two lines of people, standing boy–girl– boy–girl, face each other. One side is designated as “crows” and the other as “cranes.” Then the “caller,” in our case the lady of the house, hollers crows or cranes. The corresponding side chases the other, tagging them by touching until everyone is caught. The chases were timed to see which side could catch the other the quickest.

Afterward, I ran a footrace against two of the boys, coming in second. That was as good as I could do, and I’m still wobbly, as you can probably tell by my shaky handwriting.

They are a different group of young people than what we are used to. One of the girls had enough nerve to snap my suspenders! What a tease.

I love you,

Eugene

September 15

This finds me home from the volleyball game at the schoolhouse. They play softball until it gets too dark to see well, and then they play volleyball by the electric lights for another hour or so. Our side wasn’t having too much success, but I was giving it all I had. I’m worn out as a result, but we did win one game.

The weather has cooled and presented us with a foggy morning. Things cleared around noontime. I’m not sure why, but we practiced the tornado drill at the school for the first time today. Some of the first graders didn’t have a clue what to do, so we’ll have to practice this more. Not that I expect a tornado to show up, but I was told by the school board that emergency drills are mandated by state law. Apparently state officials can show up at any time and ask for a demonstration, and the school board doesn’t want to be embarrassed.

During the practice someone rings a bell. When we hear it, everyone stands and then runs, row by row, at top speed, to the basement. It does add a little excitement to the school day. Especially on a nice, sunny day when no one can see the slightest chance of a tornado bearing down.

I’m trying to start a nature collection for the children. I’m planning on bringing in mice, doves, and possibly sparrows. This morning when I walked to the schoolhouse, there was a big spider with a web on the front door. I thought, “Here’s a good start.” Catching the spider, I placed it, still alive, in a jar on my desk, which probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

Nobody noticed it until we stood to sing for devotions. One of the boys hollered out, asking for the flyswatter to kill it. It was making its escape and was headed down the side of the jar. I told the boy no because we want to keep the spider alive to observe it.

I guess the idea of not killing a spider is pretty foreign to them. When the spider moved again, some of the girls giggled and others let out yelps.

I tried to do our devotions next, but that spider in the jar had their attention. I told them of my nature collection plans, and now they are all excited. They had all kinds of suggestions on what to bring.

At recess everyone stayed inside at first to look at the spider in the jar. It was so still, we thought it might be dead after all. A heart attack from the kids’ reactions? Eventually I poked it with a ruler, and there it went
skittering back up the side of the jar, trying to escape again. I wished I had cotton in my ears to muffle the screams.

At noontime I went outside and brought in a small stick to put in the jar for the spider to sit on. But it didn’t want the stick. It wanted out of that jar.

This evening after the ball game I went in and the critter was gone. So there will be more excitement tomorrow when it turns up—likely during class or in the middle of devotions.

The eighth-grade class had nouns, adjectives, adverbs, conjunctions, prepositions, and interjections for their English class today. They thought the lesson was going to be terrible, but after I explained it they didn’t think it was that bad after all.

On an unrelated subject, Luella had picked up a recipe for marshmallow cream in Fairfield the first Saturday I was here, figuring I could tell her how to make Amish peanut butter. This evening she had the marshmallow cream ready, and I did one better then telling—I prepared a batch myself. It tasted fair, if I do say so. You know, made by a man’s hand and all.

I received a letter from my sister Heidi today. So Lydia Gingerich is having a date on Sunday, which will of course have happened by the time you receive this letter. I had told them at home that Lydia and Daniel would make a good match. Not that I am trying to find a match for Lydia, but she needs a phlegmatic man. From what Heidi says, it sounds as if it’s going to be hard on her to lose the close friendship she has with Lydia if she marries. Not that anyone knows with this being the first date, but Heidi seems to think it’s a fairly sure thing.

I’m alone this evening since Lonnie and Luella have gone somewhere to get apples. It’s seven o’clock already, and they still aren’t back. Luella left shortcake and strawberries for me, so supper was no problem. Afterward, I found a handful of cookies, apples, and orange juice to enjoy while sitting down to read the local paper. I didn’t find any interesting reading. I’d be more interested in
Time
magazine or
U.S. News & World Report.

I did their chores tonight, as I’m caught up with my schoolwork for a change. The chores only amount to feeding the cat and dog and gathering eggs.

Sometime I want to give you a list of the children’s names and their grade levels, but I haven’t found the time so far.

The spider turned up this afternoon on one of the stools. He must have been hiding under it. I caught him and took him outside. I figured there wasn’t much use putting him back in the jar. He’d just get out again, and next time he might pick a different place to set up shop—like one of the girls’ desks.

Today the children brought in crickets, butterflies, woolly worms, and a peacock feather. I’m going down with Duane tonight after dark to Lonnie’s barn on their other farm. We plan to catch sparrows and pigeons. We might keep a few of the pigeons to grill later. That used to be quite an outing in my growing-up years, trips over to my friend’s house where we grilled pigeons over an old farm barrel. I hope to make them like that again, only I don’t have a barrel. Luella is sure the grill will be better. She also said my Amish peanut butter tastes good.

We caught nine pigeons and four sparrows last night. We kept four of the pigeons for ourselves and two for the school project. The rest we turned loose because there were only three of us to eat the pigeons. The school-project pigeons are white with speckles. I have them together in one cage. The four sparrows are in another cage.

With love,

Eugene

September 16

This has been a rather exciting evening. Don went out after supper to hunt squirrels and found a garbage bag full of green plants. He said he found the bag under the bridge close to East 117 and thought the plants strange looking. So Don brought the bag in for Dad to look at. Dad opened the bag and said, “It sure looks like marijuana.”

Mom and I looked the subject up in our encyclopedias and confirmed Dad’s opinion. So he went down to the phone shack and called an
Englisha
friend he knows who has connections with the police. The friend called the chief inspector of the county. The man showed up within twenty minutes, and it sure didn’t take him long to decide. He opened the bag, looked in, and said, “Yep, that’s marijuana.”

The inspector took the bag with him. He said it appears to him that someone who didn’t know much about marijuana found the plants and thought this was a good way to get rid of them. The reason for this opinion was because they had placed the plants in a plastic bag. He said that keeps the moisture in, and that isn’t the way marijuana is dried for sale. He also said marijuana doesn’t grow wild around here, so someone must have purposely planted it. So much for quiet country living.