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Authors: Jean Scheffler

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Sugar House (9780991192519) (9 page)

BOOK: Sugar House (9780991192519)
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The two boys walked out of the shade of the
trees onto the breezy beach. "Come on, Joe. Let's go down toward
the back docks. I found an arrowhead there last week." Running over
the sand, they quickly came to a small dock at the back of the
island and started searching the sand for Indian relics. Joe took
his shoes off and set them in the grass so he could wade in the
shallow water.

"Ouch!" Joe yelled, grabbing his bare foot in
his hand. "Something bit me!"

"Let me see," said Jimmy coming over to take
a look. "You didn't get bit, Joe! You stepped on an arrowhead in
the sand. See?" he said, picking up the sharp stone and putting it
in Joe's hand. Joe sat down on the grass and looked at the
arrowhead. Carved to a point, it was shiny gray in color with
jagged edges down the sides.

"That's a really good one, Joe. Your feet
make good spotters."

"Ha, very funny. Well, the cut isn't too bad,
I'll be all right. Can't wait to show the guys at school. They'll
be so jealous." The boys sat looking at the arrowhead together
until a small boat pulled up to the back dock.

"That's the
Papoose
," Jimmy said. "She
runs from here to Amherstburg."

"How come there's only men getting on?" asked
Joe.

"They sneak over to the city to grab a pint
of beer or two. They only stay an hour or so, while the women rest
at the Women's Cottage. They get back before they're even
missed."

Joe watched the men board the
Papoose
.
They were laughing and joking, clapping one another on the back as
they headed out into the river. Then, a familiar face caught Joe's
eye, and he realized his father was on board. Ojciec recognized his
son, too, as the boat pulled away. A startled look crossed his face
and then changed to a smile as he winked at Joe and waved goodbye.
Joe realized that his father was inducting him into a secret man's
world and understood that Ojciec trusted him not to tell his
mother.

"Hey, Joe, look at this dead walleye that
washed up on the shore." Jimmy had wandered down the beach about
twenty yards and Joe ran to catch up. The fish was lying on its
side, and one of its eyes had been pulled out by a seagull.

"Ewww… disgusting," said Joe as he touched
the scales of the smelly fish with his fingertips. Jimmy turned it
over with a stick and insects climbed out of the hole where the
fish had been bitten. Joe pushed the fish back into the water with
the stick and they walked farther down the beach. The boys spent
the rest of the afternoon together; they lay on the beach for a
while talking about school, family and friends. Later they walked
over to the playground and went down the slides and played on the
swings. The boys pushed each other so hard on the small merry
go-round they fell off laughing into the dirt.

Jimmy lent Joe his bicycle and taught him how
to ride. Joe got the hang of it pretty quickly, and they headed
over to the bicycle track. The oval track was built to insure a
slight angle at the turns and Joe was soon peddling around with the
other cyclists. He was too small to give much of a challenge in any
of the races, but he enjoyed himself just the same. After a while
they walked to a second ball field and joined a game with several
boys. Before long, Joe had to say goodbye to Jimmy.

"Hey, Joe, sorry I was such a sourpuss when
you were in the garden. I don't want to take your best marble.
Here, I wanna give it back to you."

"Keep it, Jimmy. It wasn't my best marble. I
just told you that. I always carry a couple of old ones in my
pocket just in case." Joe winked and smiled at his new friend.
Turning away, he headed off toward supper.

Joe found his family seated at a small wooden
table in the sunlit dining room. His father was there, looking no
worse for wear; and Matka and Frank were well rested from an
afternoon nap at the Women's Cottage. They ordered perch dinners
with potatoes and carrots. The menu advertised that the fish had
been caught from the Detroit River that morning. While they waited,
Joe told his family about his adventures with Jimmy, careful to
leave out seeing the
Papoose
ride off to Canada. Matka said
she had found a lovely lounge chair to take a rest in on the porch
of the Women's Cottage and Frank had taken a nap in one of the baby
hammocks that hung in the shade near there.

"Frank slept longer than he ever does at
home, Mikołaj. Maybe you could string up a hammock in the backyard
for him to take his naps in from now on."

When dinner arrived, the family dug in. The
fresh air made them ravenous. Ojciec decided that chocolate ice
cream was needed to satisfy his family's appetite. The smooth, cold
ice cream tasted delicious, and Joe finished before the others.
When supper was over, Matka told Joe that she and his father were
going to the dance hall.

Joe took Frank by the hand and walked up the
stairs to the gallery, where he found a wooden bench overlooking
the large, polished dance floor. The afternoon sun was dimming
slightly, making the grand room more magical in the soft light.
Matka and Ojciec paid five cents apiece to use the dance pavilion,
but the gallery had no cost. Several twosomes of women danced
together, not minding an absent male partner. Couples waltzed and
two-stepped to music the orchestra played on a small stage
underneath the other side of the gallery.

Frank entertained himself with a small wooden
replica of the
Columbia
that Matka had bought for him at the
souvenir stand, so Joe was able to watch the couples as they
twirled around the smooth wood floor. Looking down he saw the
couple he and Jimmy had spied on in the trees. They looked
decidedly like all the other young couples dancing, and Joe
wondered if any other young women had taken their skirts off in the
woods or if she was more brazen than the others.

The orchestra began a new song, this one a
lively tune, and the couples began to dance with quick half-steps,
holding onto each other tightly. A band member stood in front of
the stage and played an accordion loud and fast. Joe recognized the
polka and searched for his parents. He found them smack dab in the
center of the dance floor. Ojciec held Matka's waist tightly as
they trotted and bounced around the floor. Other Polish couples
joined them, and soon the group was singing along in Polish. Other
dancers tried to copy the dance by watching Joe's parents and
mimicking their steps. A few of the novices slowly caught on, but
most decided the dance was too difficult and moved to the side of
the floor. Matka and Ojciec swirled quickly around and around,
almost making Joe dizzy trying to follow their movements.

"Look, Frank! Matka and Ojciec are better
than all the other dancers! Watch and see!" The boys watched in
amazement as their parents made their way athletically around the
long dance floor. When the song ended, all the dancers clapped.
Ojciec made a deep bow to Matka, and she girlishly curtseyed back
to him. Joe and Frank ran down the stairs to the entrance of the
dance hall. They found their parents getting a drink at the
fountain outside.

"You were wonderful Matka! You too, Ojciec. I
didn't know you could dance so well," Joe exclaimed.

"Well, Joe. That's an old song from an old
country. Maybe we haven't learned the latest dances here, but we
can still polka with the best of them! Right, Blanca?"

Matka just smiled and bent down to grab
another drink of water. Grabbing the basket she had left outside
the hall she replied, "Better head for the docks and make sure we
get a seat on the way back."

Sitting down on the second deck of the
Columbia
for the trip home, the family quietly watched the
island disappear as the ship sailed upriver. Joe could see the
lighthouse light and wondered if his friend Jimmy had lit the
beacon tonight. As the sun set to the west, the boat was bathed in
electric light. The Zickels Orchesta played the new popular song
"In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree" as the steam boat quietly
chugged back to the city. A few passengers softly sang the lyrics
along with the band and Joe lay his head on his father's shoulder
and fell asleep.

Chapter
Eight

Life returned to normal. Work, school, cleaning and
cooking filled the Jopolowskis' days. Joe continued to try to stay
out of the nuns' line of sight at school; Mikołaj came home
exhausted every night from the plant; Blanca cleaned the house,
cooked, baked and supervised a very active Frank. The parishioners
of St. Josaphat's planned for the upcoming celebration as the
workmen neared the finish of the new school, and the students began
to prepare for the dedication.

Aunt Hattie and Matka canned and put up the
vegetables from the small garden . The smell of boiling peppers and
tomatoes poured out of the kitchen and into the house day after
day. Chopped cabbage was set in a large crock in the corner of the
small kitchen to ferment for several days until it turned into a
tasty kraut.

Hattie and Matka took a streetcar four miles
twice a week to harvest potatoes from the last remaining Pingree's
Potato Patch in the city. Former mayor Hazen S. Pingree had asked
owners of vacant lots to allow the unemployed to grow vegetables
during the economic depression of 1893 to 1897. With the economic
upturn of the last decade, most owners had rescinded permission to
garden on their land and had constructed buildings and houses on
their lots. However, one large tract of land remained available,
and the women of the Polish community continued to plant and
harvest potatoes for their families there.

The neighborhood women met at the church and
traveled together to the plot, where they dug the potatoes and put
them in wooden bushel baskets, just as they had in the old country.
All wore babushkas, dark sensible shoes and long aprons. Aunt
Hattie would sometimes complain about the long trek back from the
field with the heavy baskets, but Matka said the journey was good
exercise and she was happy to get out of the kitchen.

On the days the women visited the potato
patch, Joe came directly home from school to help Matka prepare a
light dinner of zupa klafiorowa (cauliflower soup) or mushroom
omelets. On other days he played stickball in the street or in the
alley behind his house. He was trying to improve his skills in
preparation for the St. Josaphat's celebration baseball game. Joe
felt he was getting better, but he didn't think he could catch as
well as the boys who were lucky enough to own a baseball mitt. This
was not the time to be hinting for a frivolous item like a mitt
either, as Matka had finally realized that Joe's shoes were two
sizes too small and had bought a new pair for him.

Two weeks after the outing to Boblo Island,
Joe was in the backyard helping to pull the clean laundry off the
line with Matka when Ojciec came down the back steps to talk to
him.

"Exciting news at work yesterday," he began.
Joe and Matka stopped folding and looked at Ojciec. "Mr. Ford built
his one millionth automobile yesterday. What an accomplishment! One
million cars! To thank the employees for their part he gave some of
his best employees two tickets to see the Detroit Tigers play."

"Did you get two tickets, Ojciec?" asked
Joe.

"Sure did. You have any plans for tomorrow,
Joe?"

"No sir!"

"All right, after Mass tomorrow, you and I
will head down to the baseball game."

Mass could not end quickly enough for Joe. As
soon as the final prayers were said, he ran out of church and raced
home. While he was waiting for his family to walk home he grabbed
the Sunday paper and read the summary of the game played the day
before. The Tigers defeated the Cleveland Indians 6 to 5, but the
win was not enough to keep them in contention for the pennant race
against the Boston Red Sox. The game being played today would not
help their cause, as Boston had finished the regular season with
101 games in their win column.

As Joe read further he noted that Ty Cobb had
shown up at the very last second before the game started, jumping
the fence and taking his place in right field. Cobb was famous for
skipping games when he felt like it. His teammates felt Cobb played
only for himself, and Joe worried the Georgia Peach would not turn
out to play today with the pennant race over. Watching Ty Cobb play
was one of the major reasons to attend a Tigers game. He had been
the hometown hero since 1907, when he helped the team win the first
of three straight pennants. He had earned the American League
batting title for the last eight years and was batting an average
of .369 this year. Although he had averaged above .400 over his
previous years, .369 nothing to sneeze at.

"You want to read about baseball or you want
to go see a game yourself?" Ojciec said. He startled Joe, who was
bent over the paper trying to memorize the statistics. "How about
you get your new shoes on and we'll grab a streetcar and take a
ride down to Navin Field?"

"Yes sir!" Grabbing his hat off the rack by
the front door he raced onto the porch, where Ojciec was waiting
for him. The ride to The Corner, as Detroiters sometimes referred
to Navin Field, did not take long. As they neared the park, the
streetcar became so crowded the conductor had to push people back
into the street who were trying to climb on.

"Hold 'em back boys," he yelled to the paying
riders. "They'll try to pull us on our side if we pick up any more
riders." Joe looked at Ojciec nervously.

"Don't worry, son. This car won't topple. The
conductor just wants to keep the freeloaders off his car."

When they reached the park, Ojciec grabbed
Joe's hand and pulled him toward the ticket takers. Thousands of
people milled about the outside of the park. Signs for tickets
dotted the walls of the stadium. The three-year-old stadium was
said to have been built upon a sacred Indian burial ground, but
what that meant Joe wasn't sure. The large concrete and steel
structure could seat twenty-three thousand people, and Joe was sure
there were at least that many there today. The sight that met Joe
when they entered the stadium would stay in Joe's memory as long as
he lived. There, right in the middle of this teeming, loud,
concrete city sat the most beautiful baseball field he had ever
seen. The green grass looked like velvet carpet, the pitcher's
mound stood slightly above the field like a royal throne for the
baseball gods.

BOOK: Sugar House (9780991192519)
8.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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