by Jerry
I caught another mouse at school yesterday, chasing it out from under the schoolhouse bookcase, so now we have two. But don’t tell anyone the schoolhouse has mice. They will blame me for setting the thing loose in the first place, and I had nothing to do with it.
This one was a field mouse, so the two were still eyeing each other when I left the schoolhouse. The plan may not work anyway. The sparrows are fine though.
With love,
Eugene
October 25
My dearest Eugene,
“I will praise thee, O LORD, with my whole heart; I will shew forth all thy marvellous works. I will be glad and rejoice in thee: I will sing praise to thy name, O thou most High” (Psalm 9:1-2).
That says pretty much how I feel tonight. Today I worked for Chris Van, or rather babysat for her in the forenoon. I absolutely loved it. Zack—he’s the Down syndrome kid—will be three in February. Florence is a very lively two-year-old. They are both very intelligent, each in their own way. Chris also has a girl named Jeri, who is eleven and was in school. Anyway, all I had to do was play with them. They were so well behaved. They didn’t cry or even complain when Chris went out the door. Chris has really impressed me. She and her husband are Christians, and she seems like a very devoted mother.
I think this job will help make my winter a little shorter. Oh yes, they live close to our dentist in Worthington. Chris comes to pick me up and drops me off, so I don’t have to worry about a driver.
This afternoon Lydia Gingerich, two of your sisters, and I went school visiting. Kathryn and Aaron teach this year, which you probably know. Kathryn’s side of the schoolhouse was all cheery and decorated with flowers. She has the upper graders, and Betsy has had nothing but praises to sing for her teaching. At recess Aaron asked me if you still write to me every day. I told him you hadn’t for a good while, but that you wrote a couple times a week. He said you do a lot better than he used to when he dated his wife, Lily, and that he thought that you were a writer—or at least that you like to write.
I think you are a very good writer. You know how to express yourself so that it sounds decent. Not like me at all.
Well, it sounds like Dad got the water motor fixed. It conked out this afternoon. He had to go after a new battery in Worthington while Mom and I did the chores. I don’t mind doing chores. It’s almost an escape for me. You probably don’t understand this, but when I’m in the house day after day after day with only brief trips outdoors, I start feeling like a caged animal.
That man you wrote about who came to dinner and had a fit over his cute little girl. That was really sweet of him. I can imagine you doing that with one of our children. There, I dared say it in a letter, but don’t mention it when you see me again. I’m kind of shy about such things, but then you know that already.
Tuesday evening…
I had a great day at work, coming home in plenty of time to help with the chores.
At church things continue to fall apart with the James Yoder situation. He apparently attended an Englisha service on Sunday. They say Bishop Enos is almost physically ill over the whole situation.
Mom heard all of this today when they were cleaning at Monroe’s new place. Someone even thought that James’s wife, Millie, had considered going with James to the Englisha church, but she was talked out of it at the last minute by Bishop Enos’s wife. Millie claims she just feels numb and doesn’t know what to do. I feel so sorry for them all.
Tomorrow forenoon Betsy and I are going to see Mrs. Ballenger to help her clean her flowerbeds, lawn, and windows. Then in the afternoon I have to work for Mrs. Bach. In the evening the young folks are supposed to husk their popcorn plot. Don and I are definitely going since we weren’t at the singing. If Don backs out on me, I will drive myself. Husking popcorn in the dark will be fun. It would be even more fun if you were here, so look what you’re missing out on. But now I’m being mean.
I do love you and miss you,
Naomi
October 25
My dearest Naomi,
I have arrived home from school and was hoping there would be a letter from you. Sure enough there was. I could have jumped up and down if I weren’t too big for such things. I don’t remember if I got a letter last Saturday, since last week seems so long ago. The letter I received today had the answers to the questions I asked on marriage and love. I was so looking forward to them, but now I’m laughing because you want me to answer them too.
By the way, I like your answers very much. Here are mine.
“What do I see as the most important thing I want out of marriage?”
I just want to be with you all the time. I will never be able to quite get enough of that. The feelings of companionship, the satisfaction of sharing my deepest feelings with you. I get so lonely without you and long for the sharing of our faith together.
“What do I mean when I say that I love you?”
First of all, I’m talking about a deep feeling and longing I have for you. The joy I get from being with you. The commitment that I feel toward you, just as they say “in sickness and health, in joy or sorrow, and in good weather and in bad.” The root of my love for you seems to be a thing beyond feeling.
I’ve often wondered what I saw in you that caught my eye. I don’t know for sure. You seemed a girl above all others. A girl I could highly value. It seemed like nothing would be too hard to do for you. It’s a great joy to please you, so deeply have I let you into my heart.
I’m by myself tonight. Lonnie and Luella took off for a trip to Fairfield this morning before I got up. They were supposed to be back by 6:00, but it’s past that time already. I feel so lonely, of course, and would love to have you here as company, but that goes without saying.
In Mom’s last letter it sounded as if you might all be coming out for Thanksgiving. Is this for sure? That would be great, grand, and awesome, and all that. What a plan! That way it won’t be as long till Christmas. But now I’m frowning because every time I see you the parting gets worse. But please, do come.
We were having devotions at school the other morning when one of the children said a mouse had run past the basement door and went under the bookcase. I said we’d finish first with our song. I then sent them all back to their seats except Lester and Dennis. We slowly pulled out the bookcase with Lester at the ready, but the mouse still got away from us, running down the side of the wall where the desks are. Everyone jumped out of their seats, as I ran after it. I finally caught it. Now I know we have mice in the schoolhouse, and no one can blame me for it. This old schoolhouse is getting to be the limit.
There are now three mice in the cage. We can’t see them because they burrow under the sawdust. The sparrows are still fine.
I love you,
Eugene
October 27
My dearest Naomi,
“Charity doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own” (1 Corinthians 13:5).
I finished reading your letter I received today. As always, I so look forward to them. Sorry to hear about Elena Marshall’s troubles. I don’t know her that well, but hopefully your parents can help her.
I learned something I didn’t know this week from the eighth-grade science books. Yeast, which makes bread dough rise, is really bacteria. When mixed with dough, yeast begins to feed. This produces a gas, which causes the dough to rise. The heat in the oven causes the gas bubbles to expand even further. Interesting.
I now know how to operate the microscope in school. It’s one of those big outfits—not just a small handheld one. I often dreamed of working with a large microscope, so I was thrilled to see the school had one. So far I wasn’t able to figure out how it works. One of the men from the church came past the schoolhouse on Sunday and showed me how. We stopped in after we returned from singing at the old people’s home. I placed one of my hairs on the slide, and it looked strange. Today I gave all the children a chance to look at the hair, which they found interesting.
I wish you knew how the
schoolhouse looks. You probably think with all the mice we catch in it that it’s tumbledown and all, but it isn’t. There are even inside toilets, which the Amish school didn’t have.
The building is long and tall with a bell tower on top. It’s old, but well kept. Wood siding, slate roof, and the old style windows that go almost from the floor to the ceiling. The back entrance—which we use—has been remodeled when the bathroom was put in, but the front of the school, facing the road, still has the old tall wooden doors.
At some time before the church purchased it, the building must have been used as a community center. Outside, the playground is large enough to play softball and we’re surrounded by open farm fields. It’s lovely, really.
The young folks are going to Trenton for a volleyball game tonight at the same place we went to last week. This is where they have the inside court. Tomorrow night we are having a wiener roast/teacher’s meeting at the schoolhouse. I like their way much better than the Amish method of having teacher’s meetings, where you sit down and everyone expresses their concerns publicly. Here I will have the opportunity to speak privately with each set of parents.
On Saturday evening the young folks are having a Halloween party. Everyone is supposed to wear a costume, so I don’t know if I’m going or not. I’m still pretty Amish, I guess. I can’t imagine myself as a ghost or a goblin. Perhaps a corn shock or a cherry tree, but I don’t know how to dress up as those creations.
The children made new name sheets since the old ones were getting boring. Now the schoolhouse windows are freshly adorned with students’ names written on drawings of pumpkins, fall leaves, and freshly plowed farmland.
I wish you knew how much I miss you.
I love you,
Eugene
October 28
My dearest Eugene,
How are you doing? I’m doing fair.
I worked at Karibos today, and it was a mediocre day. The only excitement I had was when the cat, Patty Paws, started wheezing and coughing. She sounded exactly like ours do when they’re going to throw up. I grabbed her, galloped downstairs, and pitched her out the door. She probably thought, “What a miserable human being!”
Both Don and I ended up going to the popcorn husking last night, and it was as great as I expected. Of course, it would have been better with you there…and if the moon had been up. As it was, we had to husk by lantern light. The boys were racing each other to see who could get to the end of the row first. I think they managed to miss more popcorn than anything else.
Don is trapping again this year. Yesterday was the first day of the season, and he caught a nice-sized red fox first thing this morning. He brought it by the house to show us. The poor, pretty thing. They are the cutest creatures. He said he would store the fox in Mom’s freezer in the basement, as the prices are really low right now. You can imagine what Mom had to say about that, but I think necessity will likely triumph over her protests.
He’s placed traps on the stone-quarry land, and on the farms all around here. He wants to place some on Aden’s land yet, which will be as far west as he can go, both because of distance and from other trappers having the rights to the fields.
Your sisters said today that your uncle Ollie’s only son has leukemia. They heard it indirectly, so they don’t know for sure. I feel very sorry for them if he does.
Your mom said our trip out there is planned for the middle of November. It seems hard to wait that long, but I will try. Remember that I love you and am praying for you.
Late evening…
Hello. Here I am again. I forgot to mail my letter this morning before I went to work, so that’s why it’s still here. Another of your letters arrived, and I finished reading it on the couch. I liked your answers to the questions quite well indeed. I felt like I could jump, run, and do cartwheels all in a long row. Now wouldn’t that be a sight? But when you said you liked my answers, I did let out a whoop. I was afraid you might not like them. As you can see, I have my fears—but often they are short-lived.
I love you ever so much,
Naomi
October 29
My dearest Naomi,
I have the egg-gathering duties for tonight, but I sat down and read your letter first. It’s good to hear that you are happy. I try to be, but things are boring and rough once school is out. I work on adrenaline all day, and then after 5:00 or so I crash.
I wonder where Aaron gets the idea that I can write well? And it sounds like it must be all over the community that I wrote every day for a while. Ha! They probably all got a good laugh out of that one. Poor homesick Eugene.
It’s good to hear of your enjoyment in babysitting the new children. I can certainly share the feeling here with the schoolchildren. They do grow close to my heart.
We were in the Trenton gym last night for the volleyball game. It closes at 9:00, so that gives us time for about three games. I really enjoy playing volleyball, as you know—sort of an Amish thing, I suppose. Afterward, one of the girls asked me if all the boys where I come from can play volleyball. I said, “Yes. It sort of goes with the territory.”
I’ve been wondering for some time how I could get Larry to read at his own level. When he does read storybooks, he picks first-grade-level books. I figured the problem must be he thinks the other books look too difficult.
Today I showed him the reader they read from in class, and then I walked over to the bookshelf and chose a book on Daniel Boone. I told him to try reading it—that it was the same level of reading. He got a big smile on his face, taking the book back to his desk. At next recess he was all excited, talking to me about how interesting it was and showing me how far he had read. So maybe he’ll read more at that level. I hope so.
It’s time for bed, but I have to tell you how the parent/teacher gathering went tonight. I wish you could have been here. We had the greatest time. Most of the parents waited until we had eaten before they talked with me. Everybody was so nice and is well pleased with how things are going—or at least they said so.
Before we ate, I spoke a few words on how school was going from my perspective. The crowd was large and public speaking is a little scary for me, but I made it through. After my little speech I asked Lonnie to say the blessing for the food. Lonnie and Luella were invited since they are boarding the teacher.
There was also other excitement for the night, but not produced by me. Someone lifted the top on the mouse cage and one escaped. So there was a race on, with a couple of men and boys running after the mouse. I was talking with parents at the time, but ended up going to help. The mouse of course, disappeared, and no one could find it. With no mouse in sight, things eventually quieted down. It reappeared toward the end of the evening, climbing up the bookcase. The ruckus was on again, and one of the men caught it this time, returning the mouse to its home base.
Laverne’s mom said the sweetest thing tonight. She said that before Laverne ever saw me he said that he didn’t know if he would like a boy teacher or not. Now the other day he said that he sure hopes I teach again next year.
The women all had a fit over how the schoolhouse is decorated. I didn’t know it was that big a deal. They were saying amongst themselves they had been so afraid a male teacher would leave the schoolhouse looking bare. Well, fears taken care of.
Goodnight for now. It’s well past 10:00.
Sunday…
I’m quite lonesome tonight, but that’s not unusual for Sunday evenings. Things are really quiet in the house. I could use a buggy ride about now, with you beside me, not to mention an Amish hymn singing.
I don’t feel like writing about school stuff, but I do wish I could tell you how wonderful you are, how comforting and soothing your presence would be, how beautiful you look, and how there is no girl on earth as marvelous as you are. But you’re not here, and I probably wouldn’t say it if you were. So maybe writing is a blessing in disguise.
I’ve been reading a book I purchased at the drugstore. It’s about body language and has
some good points, I think. I find it very interesting that the first graders will show any emotion they feel. If they’re happy, they jump up and down. If they’re sad, they cry, and if they’re bored, they show it. The book says that as a person get older he will begin to wear a mask. I’m sure that’s true. I guess it wouldn’t work if adults showed every emotion they felt. The book says it’s because people get hurt too often. I don’t know, but I suppose that’s true.
I know I love you, but there are not many ways of showing that right now, book or no book.
Love you, darling.
Eugene
October 30
My dearest Eugene,
I finished rereading your wonderful letter with the answers to those marriage questions. I asked Mom the same questions, and she thinks the most important thing is trust or having faith in each other. I have thought over her answer, and I think that could be very true. Because really, once you couldn’t trust each other, there wouldn’t be much of a marriage. Also, I don’t see how you could truly love your partner if you couldn’t trust him.
You mentioned another thing that I’ve often wondered about, and that is what you saw in me that attracted you. Somehow I always thought I should be able to figure that out, but I’ve never been able to. Now if I know you can’t figure it out, I’m sure I can’t because you are a lot better at figuring things out then I am. I do know you are the most wonderful person I could have been attracted to.
Well, I have to get this room cleaned before chore time so talk to you later.
Monday morning…
Hello. How does this Monday morning find you? I’m feeling a good deal better than yesterday. I was going to finish this letter, but I was too tired after chores, supper, and dishes.
I have to babysit at 9:30 this morning for a few hours. This afternoon Dad, Don, and I are planning a trip to the Bachs. Dad and Don are putting up their storm windows. The Bachs have these old-fashioned ones that are really heavy, so Don has to go along. I will clean the house while they work outside.
