RECOMMENDATIONS ... If interested in my application, you may secure my references by writing the College Placement Bureau here at Valley City.
Martin's roommate, Phil Rynerson, an older, married man who had returned to school to pick up some education courses, put down the two, single-spaced typed pages, and turned to Martin. "Well, it certainly is complete," he said. "I can say that."
"That's what I want."
"I was wondering, though, why you put this in, in the first paragraph here, this about Catholics and Protestants?"
"Because I figure I might as well lay it right on the line," Martin said.
4
GIRL OF THE PLAINS
1936
NOV 9 I've skipped back here to write (I actually got you, Five Year Diary, on the 14th) because this is my birthday and you were my gift from Martin, who couldn't be here for the event, on a weekday, of course, because of school. And now that I've got you I'm going to record my life as it is for Martin to read in five years. I was 20 years old on this date. Twenty! Lord. I feel like my life is just getting started or already half done. [The diarist is Alpha Jones. All the entries in her diary, a six-by-five-inch volume covered with back-padded calfskin, and with a clasp lock on it, are in ink pen, unless otherwise noted. There is an entry for every day of the five-year period. The quirks of the entries are reproduced here as they stand. Each page of the diary has a date at its top and five red-lined spaces below with blue lines inside. There is about as much room for each daily entry as on four lines of a child's writing tablet, and in some instances, if the diarist anticipates a long entry, it begins down the page minutely, to the bottom blue line for that day of the year, touches the red, and then sentences ascend the first sentences in a ladderlike fashion, the writing even more minute, to the top again, and, if there's still more to say, once more descend. Some of the entries spill over onto the space for the next year. Margins of the diary are used.— ed.]
NOV 10 I might as well write on in this space too. Ifs fun! I'm working, but not too hard, teaching 11 kids in a country school out beyond the outskirts of Leal.
That’s in North Dakota, folks. Not where the Black Hills or the Badlands are. They're mostly in South Dakota, and nice, so I hear. I get $60 a month but run the show as much as I want. The trouble is I'm responsible, as my contract puts it, for "all janitor duties." That means the usual janitor's cleaning, and it's also up to me to start up oh
NOV 11 (I'm continuing on in this space) start up the potbellied stove on cold mornings and lug that damn coal bucket with freezing hands. Last Friday, splitting kindling, I wanted to chop off my big toe. I live with the Domans, a farm couple in their late sixties with a farm and a half. They're a mile from school, so I have to get up early to get there — the downpours, the rain around me, those hours, ugh! I'm in their daughter's room and have everything I need — two windows, my books, and more time than I know what to do with, plus Alpha Jones. And now this nice diary.
NOV 15 Was Home. Domans fetched me in their car, and on the drive to their place, in the back seat, I read E. Guest's poems. So-so. They'll be all right for my school kids to recite for Play day in April, if they want. I must get to bed. It's after 10 and I promised Martin, No more staying up late. Never later than midnight, ever, I hope. Oops.
NOV 19 I got the letter from Martin I’ve wanted all week and it's made the time since more bright. November sky. Two parents visited at school, just about my enrollment for the six grades, and they both complained. Figure my batting average from that. Daddy. There was such a heavy snow I’d hardly stepped outside before I was "changed from a civilian into a captain," as Jerome used to say — snow on my shoulders, I felt Jerome in my eyes and spirits as I walked down the bright road.
NOV 21 I went to a couple (3 to be truthful) dentists in Valley City today, until I decided on young Fagerland for me. Then I spent from 3 to 5 and 7 to 9 in his old green chair. I would have screamed with that drill inside my mouth and whizzing, if I hadn't thought to think, "Martin will pick me up soon, now, soon. Martin will pick me up . . ." On the way home we stopped the car and had a tussle the likes of which I can't remember since I was six and Elling tried to roll me in the hay and had my pants off. Mama's the only one who sympathizes with me and my bad teeth.
DEC 3 I forgot my gloves at school tonight and froze my hands on the walk home — oh, they were shrunken and numb — and saw when I got here that I didn't have on Martin's class ring. His ring that he's entrusted me with! It was dark out, and darker with snow, so all I could do was wail until my throat gave out.
DEC 4 Found Martin's ring in the gloves I left at school, in the cloakroom it was, and was so happy I could have sung! Doman chauffeured me home where I found Mama sick in bed [Mrs. Jones's illnesses seem largely psychosomatic.— ed.] and heard about Martin's new brother, who's going to be christened Davey and was born on Dec. 1st. That's their ninth. I've been planning my Xmas program to keep from hearing Mama's smart remarks. Lutherans don't do that. They embroider their kids. It's 12:15, time for bed. With the upset about the ring, it was 3 am last night. Oh, Lord, pray for me.
DEC 5 Worked at home all day. Mama still ill. Walked to the Neumillers at night to see Mrs. N and the baby, Davey, who looks like Martin except for no teeth. Mrs. N claimed their house was so cold the day he arrived, she had Mr. N build her a big fire in the cookstove and then sat in front of the oven and had Davey there. Sat? That's what she said. I saw Davey before Martin, ha, and Mrs. N even let me hold him for a while, and you'd never know how proud it made me. Vince drove me home. [The names and ages of the Neumiller children, at this juncture of the diary, in the order of their ages, are: Martin, 23; Elaine, 21; Vince, 19; Fred, 17; Jay, 15; Emil, 12; Rose Marie, 9; Tom, 6; Davey, newborn.— ed.]
DEC 14 Practiced for the Xmas Program in school and was told by my conscience to do so all week. Heard Martin in a radio broadcast over KOVC this evening. He was the lead in a Xmas story, a tasteful one, about some shepherds on the night of Christ's birth. Most of the parts were well portrayed and I enjoyed the program, but the sound of his voice made me so lonesome, I was ready to start off walking for Valley City, Oh, my love!
DEC 19 Day Of My Program. Woke last night and heard the wind blowing a gale. Went to school but so dark nobody could see to read, so sent the kids home at 11. The wind died down later and there was a crowd at my program after all, though I won't say the number. Martin brought Mama and Lionell but had to hurry on to Valley for who knows what? Domans took Mama and Lionell and me home and all evening I've been swallowing tears because Martin didn't see my program.
DEC 23 Cleaned house all day, then helped cursing red-faced father lay two new rugs, put up curtains, painted woodwork and a dresser, baked, and put the Xmas cutouts the school kids did for me up in all our frosted windows. Mama is always saying about Mrs. N, "I can't understand how she has so many and still has her health — much less keeps sane." I heard Mama say once, "Lionell is the last straw."
DEC 24 Christmas Eve. I delivered two of our fat turkeys today — one to the Neumillers, the other to the Carlsons, and then stopped at the cemetery on the crossroads back and stood at Jerome's grave and tried to pray, wondering how he was resting, and it started to snow. I thought of him as a naked boy drowned in dirt.
DEC 25 I woke many times last night thinking about Martin, my perfect man, and then dreamed I was at the cemetery, as I had been, except I was off a ways watching when Jerome said, "Snow on your soldiers, snow on your soldiers," as if he couldn't say shoulders, like the Armbrust boy in the third grade. Xmas wasn't a holiday for us without him. Mama had to leave for her room and lie down, and then Daddy went to the barn and stayed there half the night. He's drunk now.
1937
JAN 5 Tuesday. 22° below. The music of a real N. Dak blizzard is celebrating outside our walls. No school or mail or letter from Martin. I went to bed at nine with wide eyes, afraid of Doman, a drunk who doesn't keep to himself as Daddy does. I'm so lucky Martin would never allow him
self to be found in such a state. I took a bundle of his letters to bed and read them over and over until his voice put me to sleep, or I thought it did, and then saw I was writing this. How old and butter-pink are Time's eyes.
JAN 22 Temperance Day. I talked for an hour on the subject at school, too long, since even the kids at Leal know I'm the daughter of Ed Jones. It's now 4 am. I've been listening to the Flood Relief program over WLS and can't sleep and keep worrying about the victims in the Ohio Valley. Will I ever see Ohio or the honey-hive of the East?
JAN 29 The fifth month of school done. Time passes, after all, even if it doesn't for me. As I stepped out the schoolhouse door, I saw a stray, wolfish dog sniffing around the swings for a place to pee, and yelled, “Get cut of here, you pest!" just as the Lutheran preacher. Rev. Grigson, came walking past. My cold breath on the air was like a blowtorch!
FEB 23 It's blizzarding as badly as it's blizzarded all year. We couldn't see the barns until 2:00, when it let up a little, and then I walked to school facing it. It wasn't cold but the wind was so strong the walk wore me out and my forehead froze and slowed my mind. Greeted in the schoolhouse by a snowdrift up around the potbellied stove. No pupils. Shoveled snow for forty minutes and am still creaky from it. No letter from Martin again. I'm in a shining desert, but ice-cold.
MAR 1 Handsome Axel Anderson just a ways down the road got his handsome Pontiac out of hibernation for the spring and took me for a ride this afternoon and, Oh, what a ride! We knocked down a fence post! He wanted to paw and paw, is all, Ma, and then invited me to a dance. I declined, kind sir.
APR 13 Danny, one of my calmest, brought news to school today of seeing a pair of horned larks. They're being more observant, what with my prodding and my talks about Jerome. I worked out with the 11 on speeches for the Declamation Contest this week, and then wrote an application for a position in the town school at Leal. And've felt a traitor ever since. No mail again. A fly's been crawling on my face all evening with eyesight.
APR 19 If you didn't have a lock on you, this wouldn't go down. I keep you in my purse, anyway, just to be safe, Martin. We were dress-rehearsing the declamation speeches when Ruth, my brightest and best, said something swell-headed to me —I don't even remember what, now — and I took her by the shoulders and started shaking her and couldn't stop. She was crying and I must have looked a ghost. I let school out early and lay in the cloakroom and wailed for us both for an hour. Then my hand was where it shouldn't be and waves went up my mind till I blacked out. Who can I explain this to if not you, Martin, God?
APR 24 Awake all night. The wind was fierce and trembling. I left for Valley, for Playday, with the winners in Declamation from my school, three of them, and barely made the train. I fidgeted for my kids but Ruth and Danny received a first, and how happy they are! When Mama heard about the first places, she said she was proud of me. Proud. It wasn't what I wanted to hear, but it was so good to hear that much, I lay my head in her lap and cried for all the times I've deceived her since I realized I could — broken, braked just like a little girl.
MAY 2 Walked to school in the rain, which ruined my disposition after hearing Daddy had bought a car and was coming by later to pick me up. He got to Domans at 5 and we cranked the old-new Model T from then on until 7 and after. My hands blistered out early so I wasn't much help. "Even machines are against me," he said. He leads the life of Lorenzo Jones.
MAY 20 LAST DAY OF SCHOOL. I made out final reports, my first, and learned what a nuisance they'll be from now on. I worked on them through the night till 7:30, and then picked wildflowers all the way home. The sunlight was so clear it lay like weight on the ground.
MAY 28 I went to Valley with Mrs. N and Jay and Elaine and Davey (cuddled in Elaine's lap) to watch Martin receive his degree, and thought he looked so handsome all in black. But how I envied him! I've decided I might go to summer school and intend to tell him tomorrow right off.
JUNE 7 Jerome's birthday. We left for Valley in the N's busy car and Elaine rode along. I talked her into attending this session of school with me and we're still both laughing and holding our sides! We found a basement apartment, really rather nice, that will cost us only $10 a month apiece, girls, fancy that! I got my very first permanent wave, which took from 6 to 10:40 and was administered by Elaine, and look queenly in the mirror tonight. I hope I will tomorrow. Vince is here for summer school too.
JUNE 9 I was so afraid in History Class, the instructor looked so mean, I tried to be invisible and resolved to study all my lessons from now on just to appease him. Elaine and I cook such family meals we can hardly finish them ourselves. The week is going fast, to my mind; Elaine, however, thinks the opposite. That's our life! Tonight we had our first entertainment, a marshmallow roast over the gas ring and, believe met we're in love!
JUNE 13 Went to church this a.m. with Elaine — the first time I've been at a Catholic Mass. I couldn't understand the Dope's Lingo, as Daddy calls it, or why they were sitting and standing and sitting and kneeling all the time, so I just sat. They didn't sing any hymns. I read most of this p.m. and then Elaine and I played cards and had strawberry shortcake and both sat there and burned.
JUNE 15 Put in a sleepy morning at my classes except for History, where I didn't know my lesson and shook so much my bones hurt. I'll be kinder to my pupils, or else worse, after this. Saw the Coffer-Miller plays in the forenoon and evening, and thought them dreary, except for the one about Henry the VIII's philandering and trouble with his wives. It made me wonder about Daddy's past again and if he was a lover like that slick old king.
JUNE 23 What a day for heat! In the high nineties. Nevertheless, Elaine made candy and baked a cake. We use the kitchen upstairs, and while she was busy in her little hell, I slipped down to the apartment, where it's cool, and worked like a student on my studies —even Elaine so thought. Vince came over later and said when he was leaving, "Don't you still care for me a lot?" I said, "Sure" but shouldn't have. He took my hand and stared at me as if I'd said much more. No letters from Martin yet. I'm a warm and furry creature tonight. Twelve holes.
JULY 2 The forenoon passed and found Elaine and me happily on our way homeward, to quote a muse. I was so glad to see Martin I would have danced around him, but was too bashful to lift my eyes. Fr. Krull was visiting and embarrassed me the most I've ever been by saying, in front of Mrs. N and all the rest, that I was "Mrs. Neumiller-to-be." Martin drove me home and tried to make me.
JULY 10 Back at school in the smelly basement. No mail from Martin again, when I was sure I'd hear! I washed clothes, ironed, sent postcards to my school kids, and then cleaned a suit and ruined my arms in the cleaning fluid. They're turkey-red up to the elbows now. Later, Elaine and I picked Juneberries on the hill by the water tower, and came back and had berries and sour cream on waffles, and now I'm a bloated sow in heat. Suey!
JULY 15 Went to have studio pictures taken by a pro today and weighed myself in at the drugstore, 121. Then spent my last nickel on licorice and ate and ate till it was gone. I saw my fat shadow on the wall here a while ago and got so angry I took a swat at it. Miss Pig.
JULY 17 Woke early and washed clothes and my head. Elaine waved my hair and I studied a while and after supper was out on the porch, doing a maidenly turn on the swing, when Martin and Jay drove up. I knew there was a reason I'd got all gussied up, and almost tripped over myself getting to the car. We left within the hour for home and I loved the evening (the morning?) with Martin, and the rain all over our nakedness.
JULY 27 I picked up my pictures at the photographer's and one is less awful than the rest. The schools I apply to will imagine, maybe, they're getting a nice, fat, jolly old wallowing — Oh, hell, I'm at the border of no hard surfaces at all.
JULY 30 The last of school, for this time around. B+ in Lang. Methods, B in Psychology, and History there's no reason to write down. Back here at home I washed, ironed, baked bread, helped in the garden, and then walked overland to the Neumillers', where I made a spectacle of myself by s
torming out when Mrs. N said, "I think you and Martin are too serious for just kids."
AUG 3 I began my hired-man role by riding the binder for Daddy all day. Martin took me to Fr Krull's in the evening, where we played cards and talked as if we were educated for the first time this year. Then Martin and I had an argument on the way home, about religion again, and started fighting, really hitting one another, and then —I don't know what happened —we were making love like wildcats. I was so afraid afterward I couldn't walk to our porch alone and Martin held me there until I was my mother's daughter and my starlit self again.
AUG 21 I shocked barley from 9 till after 2 and came home with a brain-breaking headache from the heat. My eyes couldn't let another bit of sunlight in. Martin drove over in the evening and brought the good news — he has a job teaching at the H.S. in Rogers. I'll be teaching at the town school in Leal. We went to the N's for a celebration and cards, and a belated birthday party for Martin {it was the 7th) and later M and I walked along the tracks and then sat down in silent guiltiness. He said he'd see me again in a week but I wish he'd come whenever he wants me.
SEPT 7 Leal. The second day of school. I wish it were the second to the last. I'm not nervous this year, but bewildered as to which books and materials to use — I'm teaching seventh grade boys — and put out by the living arrangements. Single teachers have to room in a boarding house next to the school run by Sarton, the principal, and his wife. There are some rowdies to put up with and Martin will never be able to sleep overnight here. I walked many miles after supper, to be alone, and got back to school at 8 and worked until 10, then wrote my letter to Martin. I wish I could see his room and know how it's arranged, and where everything is in his office at the high school in Rogers, even the papers in his desk, so I could hold him for good when I get afraid about myself and what I'll do in the state I'm in.
Beyond the Bedroom Wall Page 11
