by Jerry
Love you,
Naomi
November 8
My dearest Eugene,
I received one of your wonderful letters today. When I arrived home from babysitting Mom announced there was one with a mischievous look on her face. I thought at first she was up to something, but it turns out the mailman had dropped the letter at the neighbor’s place a mile down the road. They were kind enough to send their oldest girl down after school with the letter. I don’t know how it happened, the address was perfectly correct, so don’t blame yourself.
Mom and I have the chores to ourselves tonight because Dad and Don are working late baling cornstalks on the farm across the road. It’s a poor man’s version of straw, which gives you some indication of how the finances are around here.
You should have seen what Larry and his cousins did Saturday, the little rascals. They found some old perfume powder and a tube of cream in the ditch along the road. So armed, they smeared and powdered every one of the cats around the place. Now there are cats walking around smelling like roses. I will have to search the barn after chores to see if I can help the poor creatures. Yuck.
I like the poem you sent along, especially the line “Love after loneliness.”
I worked at the Colombos today and dared ask for a raise since I’m the only girl in the community working for $3.00 an hour. Mrs. Colombo was nice about it and readily agreed.
Dad is in the middle of replacing our fixed water motor at the barn. With the one that’s on the pump now, we have to run down every time we want water, start it, and then stay there and shut the switch off by hand when the tank is full. That takes fifteen minutes of standing around and waiting.
There will be a work frolick tomorrow at Richard and Joan’s new place, and both Dad and Don plan to go. I think the young couple is moved into the house, and this is work for an addition to the barn.
Don is out tonight with a proud new purchase of his—a squeaky mouth whistle that is guaranteed to call up foxes, he said. I think he’s going by the advertisement and not experience. “Here fox, here fox!” That’s really funny. I’m sure the foxes will be way too smart for the little whistle and Don’s flashlight with the red lenses, but don’t ever tell him I said so. He is quite devoted to the cause.
Tomorrow night Harvey and his family, your folks, and all of us are planning to visit Junior Yoder and sing for him. He had a recent back injury from a fall and has to stay flat on his back for two weeks. Wouldn’t that be awful, being flat on your back twenty-four hours a day?
I love you with all my heart and will say goodnight for now. I am quite sleepy. I miss you so much, and I am really looking forward to November 19.
With all my love,
Naomi
November 9
My dearest Naomi,
We didn’t have school today, as you probably know by what I wrote on Sunday. We attended the funeral of Lonnie’s mother, which was over by 11:30, and then we attended the graveside service. They served lunch for everyone at the church. I didn’t know many people, so I stuck as close to Lonnie and Luella as I could.
A choir from a church in Wisconsin did all the singing, which is different from how the Amish conduct a funeral with no singing at all. I thought it was nice though. The preacher was also here from the church in Wisconsin. I guess it’s a sister church, although I’ve not seen much visiting back and forth so far.
At the graveside they read a poem Lonnie’s mom kept by her bedside during her last weeks of illness. Luella gave me a copy, and I’ve written it out below.
Keeping My Eyes on Him
Earth’s sorrows gather round and toss the soul,
I wonder why, how does one know?
What God has planned, what He would gain,
From all life’s sorrow, grief and pain.
I lift my eyes, I cry, I groan,
My face with tears are wet, I moan.
These questions only drive my heart away,
From thoughts of him, of glory’s brighter day.
So I will lift my eyes, and seek his face,
Though hidden by the clouds of earthy waste,
Death is the chilly crossing to the sky,
He waits, his arms spread wide I know, to answer why.
—T.T. WILLIAMSON
I’m in the middle of a project at school. I’m cutting out a plaque in the shape of the state of Iowa. I plan to carve or burn in the name of the school, the school year, and the names of all the pupils, along with the teacher. So far getting the letters into the wood has been the hardest part. Lonnie lent me his two soldering tools he had in the garage, but they didn’t work. Then Duane brought in another tool, which worked okay until it quit for some unexplained reason. Now I’m back to where I started—with nothing. But I will continue trying.
The last sparrow in the nature preserve at school died. Its companion died a week ago. So there you go. No more sparrows, I promise.
Tomorrow night is the first of the wintertime young folk Bible studies. That’s something new for me, so I’m anxious to see how a Bible study class goes. Stan is teaching.
With love,
Eugene
November 10
My dearest Eugene,
We were supposed to go to Junior Yoder’s place tonight, but Enos Byler sent word they had a young folks gathering planned for tonight. So Mom put our visit off until tomorrow night. I’m sitting here waiting for Don to bring the horse out of the barn, at which time I will dash out and help him hitch to the buggy.
I was working at Mrs. Bach’s this morning. John says “Hi.”
A wonderful letter from you arrived. I can hardly wait for our trip out there. Now the days seem to go much slower than they did before.
Oh, here comes Don, so catch you later.
Thursday evening…
We aren’t going to Junior’s tonight after all because there is a school meeting.
About an hour ago, Katie Troyer, Joan’s mom, walked down from their place and said she wanted to talk with me alone. I was pretty sure what it was about. Well, it turns out I was correct. Joan had asked me the other Sunday, totally innocently, “Is Eugene planning on joining the Mennonites?”
I said, “Of course not.”
She said, “Wouldn’t it be nice though? Just think, you could join along with him.”
We both laughed, but I didn’t take her seriously at all. Later I made the mistake of repeating the conversation to Mary Miller. This was against my better judgment, but I didn’t think fast enough and the words slipped out. I then made a point of clearly telling Mary that Joan hadn’t been serious.
Well, last Sunday evening Don told me the rumor is going around that Richard and Joan where thinking of joining the Mennonites before they had any children to tie them down.
Katie heard about the rumor, but Joan hasn’t heard it yet. Of course, they want to keep it that way. But since I seemed to be the source of the rumor, that was why she was coming to me. There is also something else shocking going around, she said, but she didn’t say what.
I said I was awfully sorry and repeated the above conversation that I had with Joan, stressing that I had made a point to say Joan wasn’t serious. Still I said I was sorry—I should have kept my mouth shut. Katie was very nice about it, thanking me for helping straighten things out. At least she came to me instead of stomping my name in the mud like she could have.
Last night was enjoyable in a way. We girls peeled pears and cut them up. The boys were working out in the barn putting in a floor above the horse stalls. One of the girls said that Paul Mast, who is away for a few weeks, wrote Barbara a six-page letter. I don’t think the letter could have been as good as yours even with six pages.
Barbara and I had a chance to talk alone and started confiding in each other about our boyfriends. We found out we are a lot alike in that area. I wouldn’t have thought her as being like me at all, but we are in agreement on everything. Both of us have trouble expressing ourselves, and often you ask me w
hat I think about something and I don’t know because I’ve never thought of it before. When I said that to Barbara, she said that’s exactly the way it goes with her. And we both hate to make decisions.
The volleyball game afterward was great, as usual. We only played one game by lantern light, and then we had snacks of popcorn and apples. I think everyone was tired because they started leaving well before 10:00, although most of the steady couples were still standing out by their buggies talking when Don and I drove out. I ignored them. It’s very much not fair.
I was glad you gave me an idea on what you want for Christmas. I was afraid you would ask me what I want. The reason I don’t know what I want is that I’m not really in need of anything. But I guess a small bulletin board and bookends would be nice. You said you’ve been picking things out for me, so don’t go spending a lot more. And I could also use a husband.
About whether Mom and Dad will come out for the trip. Dad is indecisive at the moment.
Dad has a new shed project going on behind our barn. Don and Dad set the posts in today. Larry helped this afternoon after school, but he’s too small to be of much good. I did see him carrying boards around for them. Don wanted to finish early enough so he could check his traps well before dark. I don’t think the trapping business is very successful this year. But at least it’s more successful than the whistle-blowing project was, which produced nothing. But I was nice and didn’t rub it in.
I love you and long to be with you,
Your Naomi
November 11
My dearest Naomi,
“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint” (Isaiah 40:31).
I become more and more convinced I couldn’t have found a better girl than you, Naomi. You are wonderful, and in only a week I’ll be seeing you. I can hardly wait, and I have so much to show you.
I really enjoyed the Bible study last night. It was so different. They sat around in a circle, read some Scriptures, and had a discussion about them. I even had the nerve to say a few words myself.
The topic was the first ten verses of John, chapter three, on how a person must be born again and how he can have the assurance of salvation. The group leader, Stan, pointed out three ways one can judge whether he is born again.
The first one is in 1 John 5:1: “Whosever believeth that Jesus is the Christ is born of God.” Stan said that is the inward evidence a person can have.
The second verse is 1 John 4:7: “Every one that loveth is born of God.” Stan said this is called the “out-going evidence,” which people can see.
The third one is 1 John 2:29: “Ye know that every one that doeth righteousness is born of him.” Stan said this is the “outward evidence” that we wear on us all the time.
I received an even better impression of Stan than before. He’s a young married man and very sincere. He had wonderful thoughts, and he knows his Bible like few people I’ve known.
I’m going to the volleyball game tonight, so over the weekend I’ll get caught up on the news around here.
With love,
Eugene
November 13
My dearest Eugene,
I’m so lonely for you. When I think of the coming trip, it does cheer me up some. The weather is cold here and it was snowing earlier—hard, peppery flakes.
Don and Dad are working on our shed today. Tomorrow there is a work frolick planned for the men at Monroe’s to hang drywall for their house addition.
Last night we finally made it over to Junior Yoder’s place. Harvey and some of the young folks were also there. We sang and visited, with Don and me leaving at 9:15 because we were both tired. He was tired from the night before working with a big haul from his traps. Yes, he is more successful than I thought. By the time he was done skinning three foxes and several coons, it was close to 1:00. I was still tired from Wednesday night and from not getting to bed early Thursday.
Poor Junior. He says he has more pain now than he did before the operation.
This forenoon I washed four loads, and they’re drying on the line now. Mom is sewing a brown suit for one of Ada’s younger girls.
One of our heifers had a calf last night, so we’ll see what kind of rodeo we have tonight when we try to milk her for the first time since the birth. I’m not really planning on hanging around for the show, but Dad is usually good with such things.
Well, the weekend is coming up fast. I wish I could be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow here instead of next week in Iowa.
Monday morning…
Dad and Don are outside working on the shed, but Mom and I haven’t done a lick of work beyond cleaning the breakfast dishes.
Yesterday we had lots of visitors in church, amongst them some of my circle letter pals. Now that I’ve met them, I really don’t want to stop writing, so I might keep on. Rosanna says she doesn’t want to write anyway.
I got to meet one of the girls, Marilyn, for the first time. She really impressed me, and I like her immensely. She is as friendly in person as she is in the letters, and she has a very pleasing soft voice. She’s also beautiful, although not in a dashing or empty way. She loves poems and likes to read. Her sister was also along, and Don thought she was better looking, but I think his taste is tarnished.
Mom told me later that I can no longer say that I’m not outgoing. That shocked me because I never thought of myself as outgoing. I still don’t, but maybe I can be, depending on the people who are around me.
Anyway, I really enjoyed those girls, and it’s not often I can say that about company because I can get bored quickly. There was also a visiting minister, Wayne Troyer, who could really preach. Bishop Enos had him do the main sermon.
James Yoder was in church yesterday. He and Millie made a trip back to northern Indiana where they came from with a load of our ministers to try to work out their problems. Hopefully this will be a solution for them, as James claims he respects the ministers from there. He also has family in northern Indiana. James and Millie had a meeting with the ministers from there and some from here. But Dad says he doesn’t think it did much good. At least from what he heard. Other than to establish the fact that the Indiana ministers agree with our ministers. Surprise, surprise.
They said afterward that his family just pleaded with James to change, especially his mother. His mom didn’t even want them to leave to come home until James promised a change. James wouldn’t promise, but said he would think some more about it. He is planning to come back to church for now. It seems like the predestination doctrine he picked up is very hard for him to let go of. He repeated his claim while he was in northern Indiana, that he believes he had no more to do with his second spiritual birth than he had to do with his first natural birth.
Well, I’d better get something done around here. I am about as excited about coming out there as I can be. This is probably the last letter you will receive from me before I arrive. So I can probably say see you tomorrow or the next day.
Yippee!
Love you,
Naomi
November 13
My dearest Naomi,
Lonnie and Luella’s grandchildren are here. They are taking them back home around 3:00, and I’m planning on going along to break the boredom. It’s hard telling when we’ll get back.
This morning at the breakfast table I dumped the sugar bowl over to start things off. Luella said it’s a good thing it wasn’t the salt or I’d have bad luck for sure. The next thing was pouring orange juice into the cereal bowl instead of milk. Well, there are those mornings.
I don’t know why I’m so blue about everything right now, but I am. Blue, bluesy, and dark blue. This may sound off the wall, but I still want to tell you. If you ever wish to break our engagement, I would understand and hold no hard feelings against you. But please don’t ever make any hasty decisions about such things. I would always remember our good times together.
As I said, I’m blue right now, so just ignore the ramblings as they don’t mean anything. I was able to write a poem, so perhaps that will help.
Until I see you again,
I love you.
Eugene
Thinking of You
When the days get lonely, and the way is long,
I think of you, love, in your faraway home.
When my heart gets weary, with the toil of the way,
I think of your sweetness, as I travel each day.
When I’m longing to see you, each day is so slow,
When your presence is absent, my heart hangs low.
How our parting does hurt me, and tear at my heart,
All day it’s throbbing, smarting, and falling apart.
Life without you is so lonely and drear,
A desert, a wasteland, a shadow that’s near.
I struggle, I rise, I gather my strength,
I rally my hope that I will see you at length.
November 18
Hello, dearest Eugene,
I’m on cloud nine, maybe cloud ten. Every so often I squeal or get a big grin. Mom says she won’t be able to stand me until we leave. I went to the young folks gathering last night just to make time go faster. It was the sewing at Bishop Enos’s. Some of the boys were questioning me about when we leave and everything.
Robert asked with a cheesy smile on his face, “Can’t you wait, Naomi?”
I said, “No, that’s why I came tonight.”
He said, “Why? So you can tell us?”
I said, “No. So the time will go faster.”
They laughed over that one.
It did seem as if a lot of the young folks were missing. I think some are on a trip to Ohio, but the big hole of course was because you weren’t here. The boys became goofy halfway through and tried singing songs by themselves, which was awful. Some of them sang tenor so loud it was overwhelming, and they got off tune. Don said Phillip is one of the worst ones at the yelling, but Don gets loud enough himself, especially when they’re all trying to make an impression. If they could control themselves, things would go much better. Their first song was fine, but then the yelling started. I think they could have used your help.
