My Dearest Naomi (4 page)

All of which doesn’t help me much at the moment, as I sit around in my loneliness. Every once in a while I think it’s gone, but then it’s back again. Especially when I sit here remembering it’s Saturday evening, and I can’t look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Sort of breaks my heart.

This loneliness makes me wonder why I ever came out here in the first place, which doesn’t help either. I hope you know how much I miss you and how much it hurts. I try to keep my mind off of home as much as I can, but it doesn’t always work. Especially like this evening, when I have too much time to think, so the memories of our good times together come rushing in.

I sit back on the couch here and remember your cozy room upstairs, your living room with the old woodstove, the hand-written Scriptures on the wall, the couch where we sat and talked, and talked, and talked.

There seems to be so much security one draws from familiar places, and yet here they are all gone, as are you. Well, you aren’t really gone. I guess it just feels so.

Memories, memories, and more memories.

I missed you at church this morning. The service was nothing like the Amish church service at home. There was not a buggy in sight, just cars and more cars filling the parking lot. They have a large congregation here, which is surprising. As far apart as the places are, and as open as the
fields are, there doesn’t seem to be that many people around, let alone Mennonites.

The church house is huge, but the minister wasn’t as interesting as some of our Amish ministers are, but maybe I’m just not used to them yet. I did miss our slow German singing. English singing on Sunday morning is something I will have to get used to. There’s no one around here who even knows the German language, let alone our German tunes.

Lonnie and Luella told me the sad tale of their daughter last night. What provoked the story was my mentioning how lonesome I am, so I guess Luella thought I should know that other people also have problems.

Their only daughter ran away with an
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man when she was only nineteen. Luella said a bunch of younger local Mennonite boys had been interested in her, and one even drove down from Michigan, but the daughter kept turning everyone down. For the longest time they couldn’t figure out why, until she told them she was interested in the
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neighbor boy, whose sister she was good friends with.

So for the next year or so, with much ruckus involved, they tried to keep her away from the neighbor boy, but she would sneak out anyway. When they put the daughter under further restrictions, the boy set a ladder up against the side of the house, under the daughter’s upstairs bedroom window. I guess he was going to have her climb down. They caught him in the act and ordered him off the place, but it didn’t do any good. They finally gave up, and the daughter ran off, marrying the boy in a quick ceremony in front of a judge.

It’s hard to imagine all of this happening so many years ago in this house, and some of it in the room next to mine. I haven’t dared look in, as the door is shut all the time. It would have to give one chills to stand at the very window where an
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boy had his ladder extended, trying to extract a young nineteen-year-old girl from her parents’ home.

Yesterday, we drove down to the Amish auction at Fairfield. There is a large Amish settlement there, but I doubt if I will have much contact with them because of the distance involved. The auction had a lot of nice things to sell, but everything was going sky-high in my opinion. Probably because nobody seemed to care how much they paid for the items. All of the proceeds go to the Mennonite Central Committee, which is the Mennonite’s mission arm. One of the quilts sold for over 800 dollars.

I had a surprise when we arrived in Fairfield. Lonnie and Luella had
been talking on the way down about their good friends who lived there, a couple by the name of Ben and Mary Miller, and how they wanted us to meet them while in town. When we arrived, they introduced me. We soon figured out that Ben is a cousin to my grandmother on my father’s side. After that juicy bit of knowledge, they really started talking.

In local news, I kept hearing about Stan Miller. He is the youth leader here, and a good one they say. He’s married and leads the youth group when they have Bible study every week. From what Lonnie and Luella say, some of the people in church aren’t too pleased with what he teaches, including themselves. But I was still looking forward to meeting the man. And this morning I was introduced to him. He’s extremely self-confident but soft spoken. I think I will like him.

Well, I’d better eat supper so I can be at the singing on time. It starts at six o’clock. Everyone was glad to hear that I enjoy singing, and they’re expecting to really have a good singing tonight. I’m afraid they might be expecting too much out of me. As you know, my voice isn’t the greatest.

We aren’t having school today because of Labor Day, so this morning I painted garage doors for Lonnie. They had company in for dinner—some older people who talked about their bygone days. I didn’t know any of them, but it was kind of interesting.

The singing was lousy on Sunday evening, and I’m not sure why, as they sing many of the same English songs we do after our German singing on Sunday nights. Maybe our Amish young people come from good singing families, I don’t know, but I don’t blame them for only having one singing a month. Things went a little better halfway through when a couple of the young people sang three songs by themselves. That must be where the good singers were hiding.

There was a young folks hot dog roast planned for this evening, since it’s Labor Day, but we got rain most of the day so they called it off. Instead, they had a gathering in one of the homes, where we played board games till nine o’clock. One of the young boys picked me up and dropped me off afterward. It’s nasty not having your own transportation, even if it’s only a buggy and a horse.

One of the girls tonight said that the next time I write to you, I am
supposed to tell you “Hi” for them. They said they’re all excited to meet you. I’d told them my family and you have a trip planned out here.

Keep me informed on all the news at home—the weddings and such. And if you get tired of so many letters, you’ll just have to say so.

So long,

Eugene

September 5

Good morning! You are probably still in dreamland as it’s 3:30 in the morning here. I’m brightly awake, wrapped in a blanket, and sitting in front of my dresser. Before I lit the kerosene lamp, I looked outside. It’s bright moonlight again. It reminded me of what you had written in your letter about bringing back memories—precious ones.

I went to bed at 10:30 last night, but I had slept most of the day yesterday, so maybe I’m finally slept out. I had stayed indoors all day with some kind of flu. It must have been a one-day affair because a good day’s rest seems to have knocked it out. I got up Saturday morning sniffling and blowing my nose, but with the sleep I’ve been getting things became progressively better as the day went along. Now at 3:30 a.m. it’s nothing but an irritation. I think I should be able to go to church without any problem.

I plan to wear my new light-blue dress today. I was going to wear it last Sunday but got too
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and late to finish. It’s not the nicest light-blue you ever saw. In fact, my sister Rosanna called it a light-blue denim when she caught a glimpse last week. I’m not going to pay her any mind, as she’s back in her royal critical mode. It must be a phase she’s going through, although a lot of it gets done in teasing. Larry teases me until I’m ready to pull my hair out.

Well, I don’t know what else to write, so I’ll catch a quick nap before the others get up. I’ll write some more after the singing.

Here I am again, sitting alone upstairs and wishing you were here. Both your dad and mom spoke with me today, but they didn’t have any more news from you than I did, which made me feel good. That’s probably selfish of me, but I like it that you are writing me plenty of letters.

Today I was standing with the girls after getting the first batch of people to the tables. Rebecca Helmuth was standing beside me with everyone talking around us. She leaned over and whispered, “I’ll take you to the table at Richard and Joan’s wedding.”

I laughed and said, “Sure, why not.” So I might have a partner when the notorious time comes to pair up for the evening singing—and not one who you can be jealous of.

We had to sit in for a members’ meeting after church today. It was about the new James Yoder family who just moved into the community. Apparently he has some former beliefs in eternal security. Dad thinks he must have picked up Calvinistic doctrines somewhere by reading
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literature. This all came about because someone heard James say that he feels he had no more to do with his spiritual birth than he had with his physical birth. Bishop Enos said they want to make things plainer to people so that everyone understands how James feels and what he believes. They had him stand up and explain. Mom claims James said quite plainly before that he doesn’t believe in Calvinism anymore, but that he used to. Dad said he was glad to finally hear the situation fully explained, and perhaps this will be the end of the matter. As you know, it’s been roiling the community for some time now. Bishop Enos also said they’ll vote to take James and his wife, Millie, in as a proving member at precommunion church, which is in two weeks. If that vote passes, Millie would at least be able to finish her six months of probation and be accepted as a full member.

Don and I drove to the singing, and I had the most awful time of it. Maybe it’s because it hasn’t been that long since you left, but the singings are the hardest part of Sunday for me. I long so much to be with you, I can almost taste it. I thought today would be hard, but I guess I didn’t think it’d be this hard.

Well, even if I feel empty and sad, I still have my physical exercises to do, so I’d better get them done. Goodnight…and how I love you.

Hello! Hello! I finished clearing the table and washing the dishes. Mom and Dad are downstairs relaxing as this evening winds itself down. I’m enclosing an article written for teachers. I don’t normally read things for teachers, but Mom does and she mentioned that you might like to read this. I think you’ll like it. It covers the methods teachers can use to illustrate problems on the blackboard, instead of relying only on verbal instructions. It also contains the things to avoid as a teacher. Not that I would know, but these sounded good.

Aren’t those good? I think so.

Ada and Norman are our neighbors. Their five children go to school, and they joined up with Betsy and Larry to walk up to the schoolhouse today for their first half day. They have two teachers as usual, with Kathryn taking the first, second, fifth, and sixth graders, and Aaron taking the third, fourth, seventh, and eighth graders. It seems to me it’d be kind of a mess that way, but I guess they thought they’d each have about the same number of pupils.

Mom and I were at home today. I know I didn’t accomplish much, other than help work on an antique quilt Mom is fixing for someone. I think the flu from Saturday is still hanging around.

Well, I think it’s about time I ended this lengthy letter. Your eyes are probably tired and cross-eyed with all the scribbles and everything.

With all my love,

Naomi

Tuesday, September 7

Greetings of love.

“Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:1). The minister here quoted the whole chapter of John 14 by heart on Sunday. I thought that was a nice touch.

I could hardly wait to come home from school today, hoping for a letter, but nothing arrived. So that means I have to wait, but I suppose I can manage it.

I think my brain cleared out a little over the weekend because it functions much better at school now. But then, perhaps it is finding a routine that helps. Regardless, I could think better, was able to explain the lessons better to the children, and still could keep track of everything going on—or that was supposed to be going on. With seven grades it does keep me on my toes.