by Deanna Edens
Her brand new Victorian Ladies Boater with bright, blaze orange feathers that draped down her back sailed high into the air. She was able to lift her head enough to watch it glide across the grounds and land right smack dab on top of the sweltering fire extinguisher tank that moments ago had been tossed from the roof. She watched the blaze orange feathers quickly melt from the heat before the entire headpiece liquefied into a lump the size of a piece of coal, and all of her hard-earned efforts toward owning the coveted headpiece – vaporized in an instant.
Her head dropped back down to the cold ground, “Ain’t that just my luck?”
By the time Erma made it back to the Diamond Department Store to return the important document to Mr. Geary, she looked as if she had been in a pig-wrestling contest – and hadn’t won the blue ribbon. Her hosiery was hanging in shreds at her ankles, she had lost the heel of her left shoe, soot and mud covered her face and dress, and the mass of hair she had nervously wound around her finger was sticking out, a full five inches from the side of her head.
Barbara, the lovely woman that worked in the ladies’ fine apparel department, gasped in horror when she spied Erma limping through the store. “What’s going on?”
“The State Capitol blew up,” Erma whispered.
“What?” The other woman leaned in closer.
“It’s on fire.” Erma’s voice rose marginally in volume.
“Fire!” Barbara screamed, as her hand rose to cover her heart.
The word fire was enough to grab the attention of the shoppers in the ladies’ fine apparel department and soon everyone in the Diamond Department Store was shouting, “Fire!”
Mr. Geary stepped out from his office at the back of the store, only to witness a mass exodus. Employees and customers were running from the building, shoving one another to get out the front door. In less than three minutes, the only folks who remained in the building were Erma, and of course, Mr. Geary who was staring aghast at the empty store.
Erma hobbled over to where Mr. Geary stood, his hands propped on his hips, his face contorted with confusion. “What happened to you?” he asked, as he intently stared at the massive wad of hair protruding from her head.
Involuntarily, she dipped her chin to look herself over. She answered finally, struggling to keep her voice even. “The State Capitol just caught on fire and blew up,” she somehow managed to squeak out.
“That’s horrible!” he reacted, “But, the store isn’t on fire is it?”
“No,” Erma’s eyes dropped to study the floor, “sorry ‘bout that.”
He inhaled deeply, before asking her to come into his office. “Tell me what transpired.”
She handed him the important correspondence, as she explained in detail, the misadventures she had dreadfully experienced while attempting to make the delivery for him.
Mr. Geary shook his head in resignation as he continued to gape at the hairball distended from the side of her head. “Well,” he finally said, “it is probably best to close the store down anyway.” He wrung his hands nervously. “Erma, it is my fault that you ended up in this mess,” his finger pointed to her hair, “so I will ask Barbara to order you a new hat, at no cost to you, of course.”
She held her hand up to stop him. “There is no need. It was an accident.”
“No,” Mr. Geary responded, “I insist.” With a resigned sigh, his head dropped wearily down onto his desk.
Sissonville, West Virginia
August 8, 1981
{{19}}
“I had to walk the last half mile up the holler,” Will huffed. “It’s muddier than a hog’s pen today,” Will wiped at his brow, plopped down on the couch beside me, and gasped heavily from the strain of the long walk.
“Can I fix you something to drink?”
“No, Annie. Thanks for asking. I just stopped in to visit for a minute.” He slid a slice of jerky and a Twix candy bar from his pocket. He handed the jerky to Hank and the candy bar to me.
“Thanks, Will.”
“You’re welcome.” He hesitated transitorily, “Have you talked to Bob?”
“Yes.”
“Good. He seems like a fine fellow.”
“Have you spoken to Pearl?”
“Yep, ‘bout every day. I’m thinkin’ on joinin’ the choir over at the United Methodist Church.”
“It sure wouldn’t hurt you to attend Sunday service,” I advised.
He amusingly snorted.
We sat in comfortable silence, gazing out between the sun-kissed mountains. The celebrated breeze seemed as if God was breathing over the whole vast stillness of the peak. It was a welcome relief from the steady stream of humid midsummer days. The lush trees were resplendent in their brightest hues of green for the year and the field full of daisies danced with each wisp of cleansing air.
“Where did ya get that bushel of tomatoes?” Will pointed toward the basket on the porch beside where Tessy, my now-beloved kitten, was annoyingly swatting at Hank’s floppy ear. Hank was groaning pitifully, “Quitt!”
“Sam and Sparky delivered a whole basket full of produce earlier today. He informed me it was to settle up Sparky’s doctorin’ bill.”
Will nodded thoughtfully, “Did Sparky’s leg heal up?”
“Yes, the old boy is doing fine.”
“Good,” Will responded, as he skimmed a wad of tobacco between his fingers.
I had been trying to determine whether I should tell Will that I had discovered the letters in Erma’s attic, wavering back and forth with my decision. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, I blurted out, “I found a box of letters that you had written to Erma during World War I up in the attic.”
“She kept them?” he asked, with a note of surprise in his voice.
“Evidentially so,” I nudged him, “do you want them back?
“No,” he winked, “not right now.”
“I won’t read them,” I promised. “I just opened a box and saw an envelope… it looked like you wrote to her a lot back then.”
“I don’t mind if ya read them. I was a young kid back then, in love with Erma, very afraid, and reluctantly stationed on the other side of the world. There were folks dying all over the place.” He paused to consider before confiding, “Heck, the very first time I was fired on I peed my britches. What kind of man would pee in his government issued uniform?”
A long silence preceded my answer, “A scared man?”
He replied gratefully, “I was as scared as a sinner in a cyclone, I can assure you of that.”
“Heck, I’m scared of everything, as you know. Possums, ticks, spiders, bats… I’d be huddled in a hole crying like a baby.”
“Yeah, I saw a few folks do that, too. Although I didn’t judge ‘em.” He folded his hands over his chest as he reflected. “Annie, I think that fear is what causes a person to be brave, do ya know what I mean? It’s like ya don’t have to be brave all the time, but when ya are faced with fear you have to choose to be courageous or cowardly.” He pointed his finger at me to emphasize his point, “You ain’t never gonna break a horse if you stay sittin’ on the fence.”
“True.” I turned to face him, “Let me ask ya something, Will. I just finished reading Erma’s journal and I wondered,” I cleared my throat, “have you ever seen an angel?”
“Of course, I’ve seen angels.” He gazed at me indignantly, “At least two or three times when I was a child, and then once when I was in World War I.”
“Three or four times? Really?” My interested piqued. “You believe in angels?” I was flabbergasted.
He nodded his head, “Yep. I believe in angels. I kinda figure the angel only needed to visit me a few times in the last ninety years, ‘cause whenever I look behind me I realize my troubles have been few and far between.”
I waited impatiently for him to continue, “The angel only needed to visit him a few times? Is this all he’s going to tell me?”
“Annie,” he paused briefly, “the Bible talks a lot about angels.”
&nbs
p; As I ripped the plastic edge of the candy bar wrapper I admitted, “I didn’t realize you read the Bible.”
“There are a lot of things ya don’t know about me.” Will crossed his legs and glanced down to locate his spit cup.
I pointed distractedly in the air, “Tell me something you remember from the Bible.”
“Fine,” he thought for a long moment, “I know the ten commandments.”
“Tell them to me,” I prompted, as the chocolate melted on my tongue.
He started rattling them off as I kept count with my fingers.
“The first commandment is to put God first. Then ya have to praise and worship Him only, followed by keep God’s name holy, and then keep the Lord’s Day special.” He took in a deep breath, “Ya gotta obey your parents, don’t hurt anyone, and love the one you’re married to.” He slyly grinned at me, “Impressed?”
“I think you’ve named seven of the ten,” I looked at him with anticipation, “what are the other three.”
“I know ‘em,” he said, “just give me a minute.” He mumbled the commandments he had told me under his breath before continuing, “Got it, now!” He assured me. “Don’t take nothin’ that ain’t yours, always tell the truth, and last but not least, don’t be jealous of what other folks have,” he added as an afterthought, “‘cause the Lord will give ya what ya need.” He understandably puffed up, the pride evident on his careworn face.
“I’ve never quite heard the Ten Commandments worded this way,” I reasoned, “but it is a plain spoken rendition and easy to understand.” I shifted my weight to face him, “I am amazed! You really do know them all!”
“Thank ya.” He graciously dipped his chin.
“Okay, back to my earlier question,” my brow rose skeptically, “have you actually seen a real angel?”
“Yes, Annie. I’ve seen a real angel. But, mind ya, it’s not like he sat on the edge of my mattress and said, ‘Will, I wanna run something past ya.’”
“So,” I rolled my hands indicating he should continue, “what did the angel say to you?”
“Ya know,” he spat a mouth full of thick, dark liquid into the plastic cup, “angels tell me to brush my teeth and change my drawers.”
My forehead furrowed suspiciously, “Angels tell you when to change your underwear? You truly have angels who remind you to do that?”
Will let out a muted chuckle, “I figure somebody has to be telling me when to change ‘em, seein’ how I’m almost ninety years old and still remember to do it every day.”
Will started laughing so hard he could hardly catch his breath and his contagious merriment started me giggling uncontrollably.
“Don’t you swallow that wad of tobacco, Will. I do not want to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on you.” I shook my finger at him.
He grinned, and after he caught his breath he patted me gently on my knee. “I’m joshin’ ya, Annie. I’ve had a couple of times when I felt like an angel told me to keep my mouth shut.” He swiped up the spittle dripping down his chin using the cup’s edge as a catchall, “But I didn’t listen.”
“You didn’t listen.” I sarcastically reiterated, “I am shocked, Will.” My hand rose to cover my heart, “Absolutely shocked!”
He nudged me jokingly.
“Seriously, Will. What did the angel say to you?”
He squinted his eyes as if pulling back a distant memory. “Every time I saw him, he told me, ‘Don’t be afraid.’”
“Did you say anything back to him?”
“Yep,” his lips formed a tight line. “I said, ‘alrighty then, thank ya.’”
“Alrighty then, thank ya?” I pondered on this for a spell. “That was the most eloquent thing you could think of to say to an angel?”
“Yeah.” Will hushed up as if that was all that needed to be conveyed. Finally, he continued, “Are you familiar with a writer named Elie Wiesel?”
“Elie Wiesel? Sure, the prolific writer who published books about his experiences in the concentration camps of World War II?”
Will smiled, “Well, you did learn something in college.”
“All kinds of great things,” I replied jokingly. “Although, I didn’t do too well in Ida’s geography class in college – I survived it, but earned a mark that unfortunately triggered a drop in my overall GPA.”
Will nodded as if he understood completely, “Ida was one of those women who was like a rose.” He paused and took in a deep breath, “And every rose has its thorn.”
I laughed at his description, knowing that he had known Ida for as long as he had known Erma, which was a very long time.
“Anyway, what were you going to say about Elie Wiesel?”
Will rubbed his jaw, “Ole Elie once wrote, ‘whenever an angel says, ‘Be not afraid!’ you’d better start worrying. A big assignment is on the way.’ When I first read his quote it made me laugh out loud, ‘cause I sure enough witnessed his statement during my time in the war.”
“Probably a very wise observation,” I agreed.
Will stared blankly out toward the rolling hilltops for a long moment before offering up, “Yeah, angels give ya a peaceful feeling. It’s a peaceful love that surpasses understanding.”
“A peace that surpasses understanding. Geeze. I wonder why I don’t see angels?” I thought as I reflected on the story Erma had written in her journal and now on the fact that Will talks to angels. I felt extraordinarily disheartened when the full realization set in that others have angels – and they actually talk with them. It was as if everyone else had an angel except me. “I’ve never seen an angel,” I gloomily pouted.
“James Russell Lowell, who was a famous poet, declared ‘All God’s angels come to us disguised.’” One corner of Will’s mouth twitched up, “So, maybe ya have seen an angel, but ya just don’t know it,” his smile widened bigheartedly, as he boosted himself from the sinking couch cushion.
“Maybe,” I considered as I watched him saunter down the steps and across the rounded shoulder of the knoll.
“See ya tomorrow, Will?” I shouted.
“Yep,” I heard him mumble over his shoulder, “someday I’m gonna tell ya my stories ‘bout angels.”
My heart swelled up with admiration as I watched him carefully balance his walking stick in each rut leading toward the hollow, and I was still smiling him away when my old friend, who talks to angels, turned to wave back at me as he disappeared – seemed to sink – below the rippling grass at the brow of the meadow.
“When angels visit us, we do not hear the rustle of wings, nor feel the feathery touch of the breast of a dove; but we know their presence by the love they create in our hearts.”
Mary Baker Eddy
Additional Notes
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After the war, the Nineteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was proposed, giving the vote to women. The Constitution requires three-fourths of all states to approve a constitutional amendment before it becomes a law. In February 1920, the West Virginia Legislature met in special session and was lobbied heavily by the state's suffragists, led by Lenna Lowe Yost. On March 3rd, the House voted for the amendment. In a fifteen to fourteen vote on March 10th, the state Senate made West Virginia the thirty-fourth of the thirty-six states needed to ratify the amendment. That summer, Yost became the first woman to chair a major party convention at the Republican National Convention, which nominated Warren G. Harding for president.
http://www.wvculture.org/history/journal_wvh/wvh49-8.html http://www.wvculture.org/history/thisdayinwvhistory/0310.html http://www.wvencyclopedia.org/articles/1330
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The Night of Terror that Ida described to Erma took place on November 15, 1917. This historical suffrage event can be read about at the following website:
http://www.coe.ucsf.edu/coe/news/night_terror.html
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To learn more about the suffrage movement, see the volumes entitled, History of Woman Suffrage, In Three Volumes. Volumes I, II, III. Edited by Elizabeth
Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and Matilda Joslyn Gage. Rochester, N.Y.: Charles Mann. Copyright 1881 (Kindle Edition) (Public domain books)
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Over one hundred mining disasters have occurred in West Virginia since 1884. The three referenced in this book include:
Carswell Mine Disaster – July 18, 1919 (Seven dead)
Weirwood Shaft Mine Disaster – August 6, 1919 (Seven dead)
Mallory Coal Company Disaster – May 22, 1920 (Five dead)
http://www.wvminesafety.org/disaster.htm
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The Flu Epidemic, also known as The Great Pandemic, was a disease that spread throughout West Virginia in 1918 and 1919. Many folks died, although not all deaths were reported. Home remedies were widespread. Alcohol, the eating of raw onions, and even drinking hot lemonade to induce perspiration were recommended. Erma felt oranges would help and distributed them generously.
www.flu.gov/pandemic/history/1918/your_state/southeast/westvirginia/index.html
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Although Erma and Ida knew Mary Harris ‘‘Mother’’ Jones as Aunt Mary for many years, she was in actuality a celebrated, well-known activist. Mary Harris ‘‘Mother’’ Jones was a leader in the American labor movement from the 1890s until her death in 1930. She made a profound impression on West Virginia, and spent a great deal of time in the New River coalfields supporting the cause of the United Mine Workers. When Mother Jones was first sent to survey the West Virginia coalfields in December of 1900, she reported the “conditions there were worse than those in Czarist Russia.” Mother Jones vigorously opposed child labor. She spoke in West Virginia and elsewhere against the employment of young children in and around the coal mines, and in 1903 she led a protest march at President Theodore Roosevelt’s summer home in Oyster Bay, New York. Short and robust, with silver hair and glasses, she dressed in conventional black but wore boots on her feet.
