Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself

“Can I have another jelly sandwich?” Sally asked her grandmother, Ma Fanny. They were in the kitchen of the rooming house, sitting on opposite sides of the big wooden table.

“Such big eyes!” Ma Fanny said, laughing. “You still have half a sandwich left.”

“I know, but it’s so good!” Sally licked the jelly from the corners of her mouth. “I could eat twenty sandwiches, at least.”

“Only twenty?”

“Maybe twenty-one,” Sally said. “Why don’t you make yourself a jelly sandwich, too … and if you can’t finish it, I will.”

“I should eat jelly and have heartburn all night?” Ma Fanny asked.

“Jelly gives you heartburn?”

“I’m sorry to say …” Ma Fanny turned on the radio. Bing Crosby was singing.

Sally hummed along with him, every now and then singing a line out loud. “Or would you rather be a horse? A horse is an animal …” She wiggled
around in her chair. The sand in the bottom of her bathing suit made her itch. Soon she would go upstairs for her bath. Everyone had to sign up for a bath here, because all the guests in the rooming house shared the bathrooms. It was the same with the kitchen. Each family had a shelf in the pantry and space in the icebox, but no one had to sign up to cook.

Upstairs, Sally’s family had rented two bedrooms for ten days. One was for Daddy and Mom and the other was for Sally, her brother Douglas, and Ma Fanny. Sally was the youngest so she got to sleep on the cot under the window. From it she could see the organ grinder and his monkey when they were still a block away. She didn’t tell this to Douglas because if he had known he would have wanted to sleep on the cot for the rest of their vacation.

“Drink all your milk,” Ma Fanny said, “and you’ll grow up to be a big, strong girl.”

“I already am big and strong,” Sally answered, making a muscle with her arm.

Ma Fanny reached across the table and squeezed Sally’s arm. “Hoo hoo … that’s
some
muscle!”

“So can I have another jelly sandwich?”

“Such a one-track mind,” Ma Fanny said, laughing again. She tapped her fingers on the table, keeping time to the tune on the radio.

Mrs. Sternberger, another guest in the rooming house, swept into the kitchen. She took a dish of rice pudding from the icebox and joined Sally and Ma Fanny at the table. As soon as she sat down she noticed the jar of grape jelly with the cap off. “What are you doing with my grape jelly?” she asked, picking up the jar.

“It’s not yours,” Ma Fanny told her. “It’s mine.”

“I just bought this yesterday,” Mrs. Sternberger said, replacing the cap. She stood up, holding onto the jar, and pointed at Ma Fanny. “I knew I couldn’t trust you the minute I met you.”

“What are you, crazy?” Ma Fanny asked, raising her voice. “I should use your grape jelly when I have my own? I wouldn’t touch yours with a ten-foot pole!”

“And I wouldn’t believe you for all the tea in China!” Mrs. Sternberger answered, angrily.

“So, who asked you?” Ma Fanny turned to Sally. “Would you like another jelly sandwich, sweetie pie?”

“Sure.” Sally was surprised that Ma Fanny had changed her mind.

Ma Fanny reached for the jelly jar but Mrs. Sternberger said, “Not with
my
grape jelly!” She held it to her chest.

“Oh … go soak your head!” Ma Fanny said.

“Go soak your own!”

Sally wanted to laugh but knew that she shouldn’t. “Can I please have my sandwich?” She shouted to make sure she was heard.

Suddenly, Bing Crosby stopped singing. “We interrupt this program to bring you a bulletin from our newsroom,” the announcer said. “The war is over!”

Ma Fanny and Mrs. Sternberger grew quiet. “Did I hear what I think I heard?” Mrs. Sternberger asked.

“Sha …” Ma Fanny said, turning up the volume on the radio. Both women listened carefully.

The announcer repeated the news.
“The war is over!”
His voice broke on the last word.

“Thank God … thank God …” Ma Fanny cried.

Mrs. Sternberger plunked the jar of grape jelly on the table and whooped for joy. She and Ma Fanny hugged and kissed. They began to laugh and cry at the same time. “It’s over … it’s over … it’s over!” They danced around the kitchen.

Sally felt alone. She wanted to dance with them. She pushed her chair back and ran to Ma Fanny’s side. Ma Fanny and Mrs. Sternberger dropped hands to make a circle with Sally, and the three of them danced. “The war is over … over … over …” Sally sang.

The other guests in the rooming house joined
them. Daddy and Mom and Douglas were there. It was like a party. A very tall man named Ben held Sally up in the air and twirled around and around with her until she felt dizzy and begged him to put her down.

That night they all marched on the boardwalk, waving small American flags. Daddy carried Sally on his shoulders. He stopped at a stand to buy horns for her and Douglas to toot. Sally’s throat felt sore, maybe from cheering so loud.

Douglas said, “Hey, Dad … when we get home can I have your air raid helmet?”

“I don’t see why not, son,” Daddy said.

“Won’t there be any more blackouts?” Sally asked.

“No, dummy,” Douglas said, “the war is over!”

“I know that!” But Sally didn’t know that meant the end of blackouts. So now Daddy wouldn’t patrol the streets anymore, wearing his white air raid helmet. And she and Douglas wouldn’t get into bed with Mom, waiting for Daddy to come home, telling them it had just been practice, that the war was far, far away and nothing bad was ever going to happen to them.

“I’d like your helmet, too,” Sally said. How was she supposed to know that Daddy would be giving it away now?

“No fair!” Douglas said. “I’m older.”

“Tell you what …” Daddy said, “you can
share
it.”

“Her head’s so little it’ll cover her whole face,” Douglas said.

“Little heads are better than big ones,” Sally told him.

“Children … 
please
 …” Mom said.

Daddy put Sally down and went off to sing with a group of men. Sally took Mom aside and said, “I don’t feel so good.”

“What is it?” Mom asked, looking concerned.

“My throat hurts … and my stomach feels funny.”

Mom touched Sally’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm … it’s probably just all the excitement.”

“I don’t think so,” Sally said, “I feel sick.”

“Let’s stay out just a little while longer … it’s warm enough … I’m sure you won’t get a chill …” Mom took Sally’s hand.

“But Mom …”

“Try not to think about it,” Mom said. “Tonight is special.”

“I know, but …”

“Think about peace instead … think about Uncle Jack coming home … think about Tante Rose and Lila …”

“Who are they?”

“You know … Ma Fanny’s sister and her
daughter … my
Aunt
Rose and my
cousin
, Lila …”

“Oh, them … the ones Hitler sent away …”

“Yes. Maybe now we can find out where they are.”

“Do you think they’re in New Jersey?” Sally asked.

“No, honey … they’re far away … they’re somewhere in Europe.”

“Oh … my throat still hurts bad.”

“Please, Sally,” Mom said, “try for me …”

Sally tried to think of other things, as her mother said. She kept marching even though she felt worse and worse. Finally, she couldn’t wait anymore. “Mom … I think I’m going to …” She ran to the side of the boardwalk, leaned over the rail and threw up onto the beach.