My Dearest Naomi

by Jerry

  Well, I have no intention of doing any such thing. Nor do I believe it possible to find a better girl than you. I expect you could find someone better, which is the scary part.

  In the meantime, I’ll continue writing and hoping this time away from each other will pass quickly. Yah, I know—like nine months can be over before too long. I do tend to be a dreamer. Speaking of dreaming, here is a poem I wrote for you. Perhaps it was knowing the wedding was today or simply the memory of your beautiful eyes, but here it is.

  Wrapped in Love

  To tell the love I have for you,

  I’d take the morning’s sparkling dew

  And pull the sunrise from the sky

  And on the grass its colors dye.

  I’d sprinkle it with roses red

  And pull the lilies from their bed.

  A cardinal’s song I’d tie around

  With spring, and air, and copper sound.

  I’d use a rainbow for a bow,

  And give all this so you would know

  That in this world on land or sea,

  How precious is your heart to me.

  As always,

  Eugene

  Saturday evening, September 11

  Dearest Eugene,

  Hi! I wonder what you’re doing right now. It’s 7:30 on a Saturday night, and chores and supper are over. I finished cleaning up after the day’s work, and I’m settled in my room for the evening. Dad said we should all try to get a good night’s sleep after all the ruckus from the wedding. He wants us to be fresh for Sunday services. I’m sure that’s wise, but I don’t feel very tired yet.

  I came home yesterday from helping at the Helmuths’ place a little before 11:00 a.m., and I still had an hour before I had to leave for work, so I took a short nap. Mrs. Bach pulled into the driveway to pick me up. She had a funeral of a friend in Scottsburg to attend, and she wanted me to stay with John.

  John asked how you are again. I told him fine, and he asked, “Any sweet letters coming back yet?”

  I laughed and said, “Lots of them.”

  I didn’t have anything to do other than care for John, so I cleaned the house and read Time magazine until Mrs. Bach came home.

  Larry just stuck his head into my room and said, “Writing Eugene again?” and then gave a loud groan.

  I looked at him and said, “I’m going to write him about how silly you look.”

  He had a fit, but I’m going to anyway. He got himself stung by a bumblebee at the wedding. Right above the lip. And oh my, you should see him. His upper lip is so big it hangs over the lower one, and one eye is swollen shut. He didn’t even eat supper last night at the hymn singing because everyone was having a fit over how he looked. Dad was afraid he might be allergic to bee stings, but Larry is okay. He still sounds the same, teasing and all.

  And now for confession time. I know you won’t be jealous, right? Because there was nothing to this really. You know how these things go at weddings. We girls were sitting on the beds upstairs Thursday afternoon when Robert and Peter came by with their tablets, matching up the couples for the evening hymn singing.

  “Poor Naomi,” Robert said. “She has no one for tonight since Eugene is gone.”

  “And keep it that way,” I snapped, feeling very grouchy at his big, wide smile.

  “You know we can’t do that,” he protested.

  “Of course you can,” I said. “At least put me on the bottom of the list. There will be plenty of girls. There always are.”

  “A nice girl like you shouldn’t be sitting the evening out alone,” he said, writing my name down. I knew I was a cooked goose. Sure enough, they paired me up with some visiting boy from Holmes County—David Yoder, who is a cousin or some relation to Richard.

  He wasn’t too bad, I guess. At least he didn’t slobber or chew with his mouth open. I’m just kidding, of course, but I did find out more about Holmes County than I really wanted to know. Mostly about the tourist traffic and how hard it is for the locals to get around during certain times of the day. So there, I’ve told you, and that’s the end of it. It should have been you who was by my side. But it couldn’t be helped, I suppose.

  A couple of people mentioned how much Julia and Martin hit it off Thursday night. Martin took her to the table, so that was the local buzz. I hope they do turn into a real couple. Both of them are nice people.

  By the way, about the lady who doesn’t tell her husband how homesick she is but does tell others. I don’t approve of that at all. Even if she does keep it from her husband, she shouldn’t go telling other people what she doesn’t tell him.

  Well, I’d better get going.

  Sunday afternoon…

  I have to leave soon for chores, and then there is the hymn singing at Nathan’s tonight. I don’t feel like going, but I suppose it will cheer me up. I will gird up my strength and attend. Don is riding with me because he doesn’t have a steady girl yet—and shouldn’t have one either, as young as he is.

  Oh, I forgot to write yesterday in the midst of carrying on about my own woes that Don took the youngest of Harvey’s girls, Diane, to the table. He must have pulled something with one of the matchmakers. He’s sweet on her, I think, but they don’t always pay a whole lot of attention to such things on wedding nights. Maybe Don bribed one of them with a piece of gum. Now that’s funny. More than likely he had a conversation with one of the matchmakers early on out in the barn and got his place secured.

  If you have ever wondered how we girls deal with the matchmakers on wedding nights, we simply take the first boy they offer to us. So I hope you never read too much into such things. It keeps it simple for us girls, and we can continue living at peace with each other.

  I’m sitting on a lawn chair, and the sun is hanging low in the sky. The Englisha neighbors across the road, the Thermans, have visitors, and it looks like everyone at the Normans’ is at home.

  Your mom said today at church that we could all come over to your place afterward, but Dad didn’t want to go. So we have ended up back here for the afternoon. After dinner I said, “If everyone gets out of the kitchen, I’ll do the dishes alone.” Did the girls ever whoop!

  Larry wanted something to do after I was done, so I walked down to the bridge with him—the one with the memories—taking my shoes off and splashing around in the water. It wasn’t much fun without you there, so we came back home fairly quickly.

  Afterward, we all settled in the front yard, enjoying the warm afternoon. I got our colt, Laddie, out of the barnyard. Mom, Larry, Rosanna, and Betsy were on lawn chairs, while I sat on the grass holding Laddie with a strap. We all ate popcorn. Laddie tries to bite sometimes, but usually he just sniffs me. So the sniffing started on my back, and I did nothing until he calmly took a nip. I yelled “Ouch!” even though it hardly hurt. Larry went into hysterics, laughing so hard he practically fell off the lawn chair. I guess it was pretty funny from his point of view.

  Did you hear that Wayne Helmuth is planning on building a dawdy haus on their side of the road, back behind the current buildings? Word has it they still want to start on the work this fall. It sounds to me like Robert and Beth are going to marry next spring. It’s hard to tell sometimes, but I know that Wayne won’t continue farming with only three girls left, and they aren’t always at home. He would likely still help Robert on the farm, but let him manage everything. How much of this is truth and how much just rumors is hard to tell.

  Anna and Mary Yoder told my sister Betsy that they think you and I are engaged and will marry next year. How is that for a guess?!

  Well, it is time to chore, and I don’t know anymore news so I will stop scribbling. I hope I don’t cry at the hymn singing tonight. You are always in my thoughts and prayers.

  Yours always,

  Naomi

  Sunday morning, September 12

  My dearest Naomi,

  We are ready to leave for church in half an hour. Starting time around here is ten o’clock, but Lonnie and Luella have to leave early
on account of Lonnie being the janitor. Luella reads her Bible during the waiting time. I sit in the empty church house, staring off into space, while Lonnie opens the shades and makes sure the temperature is set properly. I think I’ll take up a Scripture memorization program or something to pass the time until people begin arriving. Sundays have lost their spark for me because I can’t look forward to seeing you. I often question why I ever came out here in the first place, but it’s really too late for such thoughts.

  The school year is settling in, and I do enjoy teaching my students, which was my reason for coming. If I keep their needs as my goal, it gives me purpose and determination to go on. Especially right now when I miss you so much.

  Sunday afternoon…

  Hello there. I’m sitting out on the lawn under a tree at the picnic table. We arrived home from church earlier than usual. No one invited us for dinner, so when we finished eating here at the house it was only one o’clock.

  I told Lonnie and Luella that I’d be scared raising a family in a church with the worldliness they have amongst the young people here, and to my surprise Lonnie and Luella agreed with me. Things are also not going well with the church leadership. Everyone seems to be expecting a split this fall, but maybe not until next year, after a new minister has been ordained. My interest lies primarily in what impact this will have on the school. Who would have thought I’d walk into a situation like this when I agreed to teach? Lonnie and Luella are very sympathetic to my concerns and have assured me that things will work out with the school one way or the other. I hope so.

  It’s not even near Christmas, but for some reason I’ve been remembering the Christmas dinner that year at the Burkholders. I hope you remember it too. I forget why both of our families were invited, but we sang afterward. I remember how I tried to get closer to you by moving a foot or so down on the bench so I could hear you sing. I had never heard you sing before, and you sang so softly I couldn’t hear very well above the rest of the group. Even then I loved the sound of your voice. I still do even as I miss hearing it.

  Ha! I remember too that back in those days you wouldn’t have batted an eye at me. I had to use subterfuge to find out more about you. I don’t think you ever knew some of the things I did to gather information. Someday maybe I’ll tell you!

  Talking about singing, Lonnie and Luella just left to sing for someone. They wanted me to go along, but I told them I had to finish this letter.

  Luella asked, “Is it that important?”

  And I said, “Yes, especially since I’m going out with you tonight and won’t have time to finish it later.”

  We’re going down to Luella’s brother’s place. Saul Ulrich has three girls: Janie, Amanda, and Nancy, and one boy, Duane, who’s a couple years younger than I am.

  Yesterday, I helped Lonnie paint. He wants to give most of his barns a fresh coat of red paint before the weather gets too cold. If you come to visit, you’ll see how the farms are laid out. They are very far apart, but the places are kept neat, and the big barns are all fixed up.

  On Tuesday evening of next week the young folks are planning a “progress supper.” Since I’ve never heard of such a thing, we will have to see how it goes. Luella is supposed to have corn. I guess you go from place to place, getting one item at each house. I would think the food would be cold by the time you arrived to the end of the line, but perhaps that’s part of the fun.

  Then on Wednesday night there is a young folks’ softball ball game at the schoolhouse again.

  At school I’m working hard with the upper graders on their grammar. I spent quite some time with the sixth graders on the difference between transitive and intransitive verbs. It took a little clearing of my own mind, as last year I thought I had it figured out, but it has apparently slipped away. It does get a little complicated, as a transitive verb is a verb that requires both a direct subject and one or more objects. An intransitive verb does not have objects.

  Do you remember that I wrote you about Stan, the youth leader? Well, he is one of the friendliest, most outgoing persons I’ve ever met. After church he came over and talked with me. He said they’d been praying for me. He wished me God’s blessings. He said he and his wife want me over for Sunday lunch sometime, and I thanked him for the invitation. That would be a nice break to the routine.

  I hope you have a great Sunday afternoon and evening.

  With all my love,

  Eugene

  September 13

  Dearest Eugene,

  “Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength and my redeemer” (Psalm 19:14).

  Hello! How are you getting along? I’m not doing too badly. I’m pretty tired tonight though. Today I “fall cleaned” my room, and you should see it. The frame of my bed was falling apart and I wanted something different, so I have the springs and the mattress on the floor.

  I also moved the bed over to where the couch used to be and moved the cedar chest to where my bed was. The chest of drawers I put beneath the clock again. I’m sure glad I could still find a place for the cedar chest after I was done with my whirlwind moving urges.

  It’s so warm around here. I feel like I’m melting just sitting inside the house. It was 88 degrees, and that was in the shade. Also I suppose I’m warm from doing those dreadful exercises. But they are good for me—or so I convince myself. These are from the instruction sheet the chiropractor gave me last month when Mom took me for my headaches. But I never got to them until this week.

  There was a time I thought exercises were going to be fun, but now it’s just the same old thing over and over again. I guess I could add some new ones and stop some of the boring ones. Maybe I will. I think my real problem is that I don’t like to do them because I know I have to so I’ll stay healthy.

  Well, I had better get to bed. If my letters are boring, it’s because it’s very boring around here without you.

  Tuesday…

  Here I am again, and it’s Tuesday evening. It’s still warm even though it just rained. The Colombos—another of my cleaning jobs—had the air conditioning on today. I get very aggravated at their 18-year-old son. His mom gave him a list of things to do while she was gone for a couple of hours and what did he do? He sat in front of the TV the whole time! Maybe he did one thing on the list, but that was it.

  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.

  Lov
e you,

  Naomi

  Monday evening, September 13

  My dearest Naomi,

  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.