Sugar House (9780991192519) (5 page)

"So the race starts, see? And Johnny decides
to follow the other boats so he can figure out the course. After a
few times around, he tells Jack to let it out. Jack pulls out the
throttle and they start gaining. Then the water starts getting
really rough and young Johnny starts getting banged up and he's
getting sick from the smell of the exhaust from the other boats. So
old Jack takes over driving while still operating the engine. On
top of that, he's holding Johnny in the boat so he won't fall out!
But old Jack just keeps the throttle open and gets in the lead.
Finally, he's gotta pull into the pit for some gas and someone
yells 'Why didn't you stop? You won the race long ago.' And Jack
says 'We forgot to count the laps.' Can you believe that? Yes sir,
as soon as I'm older I'm going to drive a boat like that!"

"Do you really think you will?" Joe asked. He
handed the postcard back to Walt, who put it on the crowded
desk.

"Sure. Next year I'll be eleven, old enough
to help with doing something around those fast
machines—
anything
. Even if it's just washing 'em up. Next
summer they're having the Gold Cup right here on the Detroit River
on account of the Miss Detroit winning last year. I'm sure I'll be
able to work my way in somewhere."

Joe left the Stanislewski's a little while
later, thinking about speed boats and races the entire way
home.

Exciting things were happening in Joe's city.
Detroit was growing; new high-rise buildings, stores, theaters and
auto plants were going up everywhere, along with new homes to house
all the people that were arriving daily at the train station. Every
week there were new faces at church and almost as often a new kid
at school. Good thing the new school was almost finished. Joe's
classroom was getting pretty full. Lately, he had gotten into the
habit of getting to school early so he'd be one of the first in
line when the bell rang to make sure he'd get a desk for the
day.

***

After a dinner of ham, green beans, bread and some
poppy seed cake, Joe and Ojciec went in the backyard to throw a
ball around. The yard was small and they didn't have a mitt, but it
didn't matter. Ojciec lobbed the ball at Joe. With concerted
effort, Joe jumped a couple feet to make the catch. As they played
catch, Joe tried to explain the rules of the game to his
father.

"A pitcher can spit on a ball and throw it at
the batter?" asked Ojciec.

"Sure, it's called a spitball," Joe
explained. "The pitcher can spit or rub some Vaseline from inside
his baseball cap on the ball. When he throws the ball the batter
can't be sure where or how it's going to come into the plate.
Sometimes the pitcher smears the ball with tobacco spit and dirt so
the ball is the same color of the infield and it's hard to
see."

"I think I'm following you on the basic
rules. Three outs, three strikes, four balls, nine innings, both
teams go up each inning. Guess it'd be easier to understand if I
could see a game before I go out there and make a fool of myself,
huh, Joe?"

"Well, I heard they have baseball diamonds on
Bois Blanc. Maybe we can catch a game there on Saturday, huh
Ojciec?" Joe thought this was a good way to solidify the family's
upcoming trip.

"Really? Yeah, I think I heard a guy down at
the plant saying he played there this summer. Well, I guess our
little boat trip comes at a good time, right Joe?" Ojciec said as
he winked at his son.

"Yes sir!" Joe replied.

The school week passed slowly. A cold drizzle fell
over the city the first three days and turned into a steady
downpour on Thursday. The streets were a muddy mess. Walking home
from school on Thursday, Joe stopped to watch two men attempting to
free a carriage that had gotten stuck in the mud. Rain poured off
their hats and down the backs of their long overcoats as they swore
and cussed at the unmoving wheels. The carriage horse stood to the
side observing their labor, shaking off the water from his mane and
stomping his hooves to release the mud caked on his legs.

The brick streets were not much better than
the unpaved ones, as the sewer system could not seem to keep up
with the deluge. Cars and streetcars plunged through great streams
of rain, splashing any poor pedestrian with a wall of water.

Joe's Sunday prayers went unheard. The nuns'
demeanor was soured by the weather as well. Several boys in the
class had their fingers rapped with rulers for small indiscretions
like swinging their feet at their desks or not finishing all their
milk at dinner. Joe's neighbor Sam was made to stand at the front
of the class and hold his arms straight out to the side for half an
hour. At first, Sam thought this to be an easy punishment for
pulling the pigtails of the girl who sat in front of him. But after
half an hour, pain began to show on Sam's face. At the end of the
hour, his small arms were trembling uncontrollably with muscle
spasms. Joe felt bad for his friend but said nothing. He sat
quietly working on his arithmetic and American history assignments.
Too great a gift awaited him on Saturday to jeopardize his standing
with Sister Mary Monica.

The clouds finally parted on Friday
afternoon, and the class went out to recess after eating dinner.
Franz, one of the older boys, found a stick and drew four large
circles in the wet dirt beside the school. Another pulled a small,
closed sack filled with barley from his pants pocket.

"Zośka!" Joe said when he recognized the
game. "Can I play?"

"Sure" replied Tall Paul, the boy holding the
zośka sack. Joe stood in the middle of one of the dirt circles, and
Sam raced over to the remaining one. Paul dropped the zośka on his
foot and tossed it to Joe, who caught it in the air with his left
foot and tossed it to Sam, who immediately dropped it.

Franz, the boy who had drawn the circles
stated, "That's a fault, Sam. You're out!" Franz said. He took the
sack and passed it to Tall Paul, who deftly caught it between his
knees.

"Good one, Paul!" Franz said. Tall Paul
tossed it to Joe, who again caught it on his foot. But when Joe
attempted to pass it to Franz, he crossed his dirt circle, and the
other boys called a fault, so he had to leave the game. The older
boys passed the zośka back and forth several times until Franz was
also out and Tall Paul declared the winner. They played for the
entire recess, and Joe smiled to himself, feeling the warm sun on
the back of his jacket. The sun was shining, he'd managed to stay
out of Sister Mary Monica's line of sight that week and tomorrow
was the big day.

Eating a supper of kielbasa and sauerkraut
that evening with his family, Joe noticed his matka and ojciec
secretly smiling at each other when they thought he wasn't looking.
"Now what could be going on?" he wondered. He was about to ask,
when his mother mentioned the picnic lunch she was going to pack
for the next day.

"What time does the
Columbia
leave for
Bois Blanc, Ojciec?" Joe asked. He could already picture the big
boat chugging down the river with him on it.

"Eight-thirty a.m., Joe. We'll have breakfast
and head for the streetcar at seven-thirty. That will give us
plenty of time to get to the dock and buy our tickets. Matka made
our picnic lunch and it's in the icebox ready to pack for the
morning. Now," he said when they had finished the meal, "empty the
water from the icebox and get ready for bed. Matka will bring Frank
up in a minute."

Joe retrieved the metal pan containing the
melted ice from the bottom of the icebox and carefully carried it
to the backyard. He threw the water on what remained of their
summer garden. As he carried it back down the hall to the kitchen
he overheard his father say to his mother, "I know, I know… it can
wait till tomorrow. Let's do as we planned, Blanca. One more day is
nothing in a lifetime."

Joe returned the pan to the icebox and
climbed the stairs to the room he shared with Frank. He undressed
and, with a running start, leapt into the small, metal framed bed
he shared with Frank. Now that his brother was almost three, his
parents felt it was time for Frank to be out of his crib. The last
two months had not provided Joe with much sleep. The weather had
been warm and Frank had a tendency to push his hot little body
against Joe all night. No matter how many times Joe would push his
brother away or even arrange him down at the foot of the bed, Frank
squirmed his way up next to Joe. Exasperated, Joe would
occasionally grab a blanket and sleep on the floor next to what had
been, up until July, his own bed.

When Matka brought Frank up to bed, Joe moved
next to the wall to make room for his little brother. He thought
that for once it wouldn't matter how much Frank kicked and
squirmed. He was too excited to be able to sleep anyway. However,
when Frank fell asleep a little while later, Joe found his eyes
closing too. It had been a long week, and even the great event
could not compete with a little boy's need for rest.

The following morning, Joe was up, dressed,
washed and downstairs by six-fifteen. "Can I wake up Frank, Matka?"
he asked.

"It's too early, Joe. Ojciec is still asleep.
Why don't you go to the garden and see what is left to harvest. If
you stay in here, I can see you will pester me to death."

Joe surveyed the remains of the small
backyard garden they shared with his aunt's family. Joe walked past
the string beans. He didn't like picking them because they made his
palms itch. The early cabbages had all been picked and the big,
late cabbages for sauerkraut wouldn't be ready for another month.
But he found two cucumbers, several yellow hot peppers and two
green sweet peppers. Piling them on the ground, he looked at the
twenty tomato plants near the fence. There were still dozens of
ripening tomatoes on the vines. He picked four large red tomatoes
and thirty small cherries and brushed the dirt from the bounty.
Untucking his shirt, he put all the vegetables in it, using it as a
basket. In the kitchen he rinsed the harvest with water and placed
it in the sink.

Matka turned from frying eggs on the stove to
ask, "Was there no squash, Joe?"

"No, Matka. Not that I could see."

"Maybe Hattie grabbed them yesterday. I'd
have you go next door and ask, but it's early yet. Also, I think
Hattie is a little jealous of our trip today. We asked them to go,
of course, but the girls need new shoes and dresses for the winter
and Uncle Alexy felt they couldn't spend the money right now."

Thank Jesus, Mary and Joseph
, thought
Joe. If anything could ruin his trip it would have been his vexing
cousins. A small stab of guilt about his small shoes crossed his
mind, and he thought about telling his mother he needed new shoes
also. But he couldn't fight the excited voice in his head telling
him to keep quiet.

Matka was percolating the coffee when Ojciec
walked down the stairs. He was washed, shaved and dressed to go out
on the town.

"Now can I get Frank, please?" Joe
pleaded.

"All right, Joe, go ahead and get your
brother ready."

Joe ran up the stairs two at a time and down
the hall to their room.

"Come on, Frank, wake up. Ya wanna go on a
boat today?" he said, trying to raise his little brother from a
deep sleep. Frank's hair was standing up all over his head, and one
of his cheeks was bright red.

"Boat?" he said sleepily.

"Yes, a great big boat! Come on and get
washed up. We're going after breakfast. Hurry now; let me help you
get your clothes on." Joe quickly got his brother ready to go and
tied his small brown leather shoes. Holding hands, they walked down
to the kitchen.

Matka had the packed picnic basket on the
counter. She was wearing a bright lilac dress that came to her
ankles, and her blonde hair was up in a pretty bun. Most days she
wore a babushka, but today her hair was prettily coiffed. It shone
like a jar of honey in the sun. A quick prayer over the meal, three
bites of toast with jam and a scrambled egg, and Joe was ready for
the door.

"Joe, slow down, get a bucket of water from
the pump so I can wash these few dishes before we leave." Matka
said.

Can't she wash them when we get back?
he thought. Obeying his mother, he grabbed the bucket from under
the sink and went to retrieve the water.

Many houses had running water but the
Jopolowskis' home had been built without plumbing. An outhouse
directly behind the home was their toilet. The family had never had
indoor plumbing. Joe sometimes wished they lived in a more modern
home, but knew better than to complain.

Quickly pushing up and down on the pump
handle, Joe soon filled the bucket.

"Thought you'd be gone by now," came a snotty
voice from the back of the house. Joe looked up and saw his older
cousin coming down the steps carrying her own bucket.

"We're leaving in a minute, Marya" Joe
replied.

"Better hurry or you'll miss the boat," she
taunted.

"Don't worry, Marya, we'll make it. Have fun
hanging around here all day. Looks like it's going to be a hot
one." Joe enjoyed the fact that he was going to escape the heat for
once. "If the iceman comes by, could you get a block for our
icebox? I'm sure it will melt by the time we come back from the
island. Thanks, Marya." Joe walked up the stairs and let the door
shut in his fuming cousin's face.

Joe raced inside, sloshing some water in the
hall. Joe emptied the pail into the sink, grabbed a rag to clean up
the water on the wood floor and returned the rag to its rightful
spot before Matka noticed.

Ten minutes later, dishes clean, kitchen in
order, they were on their way. Walking south toward Gratiot Street,
dressed in their best clothing, they were the perfect portrait of a
good, hardworking immigrant family. Ojciec carried Frank on his
shoulders, smiling under his mustache. Matka carried the basket
with tasty treats for their outing. And Joe ran ahead and then
back. They turned on Gratiot.