| Volume 2 of Still at Home: April 1959 - February 1960 | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
University Hospital, Edmonton Alberta, about 1959 La Glace School, La Glace Pentacostal Church, Peoria Alberta, the Park Hotel in Grande Prairie, the CFGP station, Canadien Coachways stop at the Phillips 66 café in Valleyview, Edmonton YWCA, Hudson Bay department store, room 471 in the University Hospital, the Meewburn Pavillion, the Blue Willow cafe.La Glace School, La Glace Pentacostal Church, Peoria Alberta, the Park Hotel in Grande Prairie, the CFGP station, Canadien Coachways stop at the Phillips 66 café in Valleyview, Edmonton YWCA, Hudson Bay department store, room 471 in the University Hospital, the Meewburn Pavillion, the Blue Willow cafe. reading: Peyton Place, Hep Cats magazine, the Family Herald, the Good news broadcaster, David Copperfield, Elizabeth Elliot Through gates of splendour and Shadow of the almighty, Zane Grey The Hash Knife Outfit, Modern literature for schools, Roget's pocket thesaurus, Facts of life and love for teenagers, The complete works of Nathanial Hawthorn, Beverly Cleary Fifteen, Seventeen magazine, Journey to the center of the earth, Anne Frank Diary of a young girl, Alas Babylon, Giant, Main Street, Auntie Mame. movies: National velvet, On the beach, A summer place, Blue denim, A private's affair, The flying Fontaines, Fort Defiance, 1001 Arabian nights, Journey to the center of the earth, The night of the quarter moon, Ferry to Hong Kong, The duke wore jeans. songs: At the hop, Teen angel, Taps, Pink shoe laces, Goodbye Jimmy, goodbye, other: Leonardo, Gainsborough, Nighthawk radio, Sal Mineo, the Ice Capades in Edmonton. |
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Last of grade 8, summer, first half of grade 9, then two months in the University Hospital in Edmonton, 300-some miles from La Glace. Farm girl in the city. Part 3 Christmas in the hospital. Parts 4-6 a 14-year-old is far enough away from her family and community to investigate necking. I've interspersed edited letters home because they document hospital life of the time better than journal passages tediously preoccupied with concerns I had to hide from my parents. notes: Crucifixion passages in the book of John, 1st Corinthians 13, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Edmund Vance Cooke How did you die? mentioned: Donna Berg, Gail Angen, Sharon Schwemler, Jim Patrick, Raymond Gilkyson, Darrell Bekkrus, Gary Angen, Lloyd Alstad, Bernice Alstad, Janeen Postman, Arden Bangen, Ruby Hamm, Timothy Shire, Sybil Parlee, Lorraine Torgerson, IJ Christianson, Peter Dyck, Doris and David Mann, Mary and Ed Epp, Judy Epp, Paul Epp, Arnold Gliege, Bessie Blask, Dr Olav Rostrup, Al Morrison, Robert Parlee, Bill Epp, Jimmie Muried, Kenneth Payne, Martha Friesen, Henry and Violet Whilms, Doreen McPherson, Doug Odland, Reiner Lobotsky, Paul Sylvestre. |
March 26th 1959 Dear Journal, Even tho things have been pretty exiting this nite, there is one fact that I'm really awed at. I seem to have found the secret of popularity. In fact, I've been finding it for a long time, but now, all of a sudden its dawned on me that my theory really works! Its this way: now that I'm back I seem to have stopped being the limpy little frump that never says anything, and now all of a sudden people start looking at me as tho they've never seen me before. Like Gerald and Darrel, and Jim, and Ray, even Donna and Gail and Sharron - they seem to be a bit surprised at this new vivacious (?) me and I really think they like it. Now I realize that the reason for my unpopularity is not the excuse I always hide behind, but just because I always waited for everybody to make the first move: Mainly the big shots weren't interested because I just never seemed interested either. when I think of that unsmiling visage I've had for such a long time I have to gulp. I'm really ashamed! April 5 - kitchen table Concentration is rahther difficult - violins and whatnot else are shreeking out to the world the various emotions of man and altho partly true to form, more often they're like banshees. However, I've been thinking about one thing 'specially lately, perhaps 'cause everyones always preaching about it, and also I've done quite a lot of reading on it - books like "Alas Babylon" - what I'm talking about is: the possibility of the nuclear, H-bomb, war. How grisely (S.W.) but very possibally very soon. People are becomming more and more conscious of it. Grandma and Grandpa seem strangely resigned to the fact that they might not ever see us again because of a war and the horrible death connected with nuclear warheads and missels. It seems queer to think, that of the hundreds of ages and cultures, and generations, it is probable that I am living in the last times. For I can't see how civalization could possibly raise itself any higher or get anymore destructive power, or know any more about how to wipe out a world. All this forever "radioactive" jazz, and all this "nuclear fission" business is rahther unnerving becauwse we really don't know much about what they are and their dangerousness, real or imaginary, are definitely frightening. So the next war could be nothing but the last one. And this means I will not even retain my gift of life for very long .... I am so sorry because I do so want to grow up and see things and do things and "love and be loved" and mainly just to finish living. April 7 Ate 3 jars of cherries when Mom and Dad were in town. April 8 Played ball. April 10 Just a little while ago I hopped outside for a ritual look at the world. Things were moving outside, mainly the warm full wind. The bigger constelations were bright but all across the sky as if it were only a gausy white film, was a soft mist. The usual white streak across the northern sky was there too. Its been hot all day, I didn't even wear a coat to school and all day the heat has made me lazy and just plain dopey. Summer is definitely very near, altho no leaves yet, but then it is only early April. June 6 Sometimes I think I am pretty sometimes I think I'm really not very pretty and sometimes I get all watery because I feel like a homely old toad. Really it shouldn't matter much - it is only sex after all. July 7 Now Arnold ... - is pretty good lookin' an' facinating and all that! Such a nice shape Wide wide shoulders under his leather jacket nice neat little backend under those slim jeans Just nicely tall and lean and masculine. A lean brown face. for once I don't know what color his eys were because whenever I looked at him I had to look away quickly because he was looking at me. Boy, what a fix! I think they were blue tho' ....... July 20 Sewed a sheath today - brown with pink flowers on it - slimming I think. July 22 Am reading David Copperfield again and enjoy it more this time. Characters don't seem quite so stupid. Almost one sixth thru. Its awfully long. Notice - not so "guey-poetical" anymore. Have decided poetry is more in simple strong words anyway. September 17 This afternoon, I rode June out to the bridge where I tied her up in the clover patch. We kids went off on a wild wild chase around. We built a little bridge. Then when we were tired we stripped down and had a sleep with our noses in the clover patch. It was dreamy - blue sky with a filigree of gold poplar leaves against it, a drowsy warm sun and bees buzzing around. And Junes contented "munch plop, chawww, crunch, plop." I was going to write some thing about it but this was all I could manage -
September 27 Like usual with Esther and Verna I feel like I have one foot securely in the social grave and the other on a quite unreliable bannana peeling. Oh well, they aren't everyone. October 3 Pulled quack grass roots and guarded the grass fire which was great! Sunday, October 11th. This is sorta' shocking and everything - kinda gruesome and it gives me the funniest throbby, hot feeling. This is just like my Sunday afternoon, kids playing in the living room, me reading .... And then, well, mom and dad "resting" in the bedroom. The door was open a crack and I just happened to glance at it. Then - whom! - I was just paralised and my eyes were stuck to that crack like as if there was chewing gum on it (that's a weird similie but I was tired of similes like "glued" and "riveted") There was a big hump under the pink blanket and - glug - it was going up and down and up and down and up and down ..... Well, I'm not so naive that I didn't know what that was! .... Sex - instead of being kinda' passionate, and desperate like - the way its supposed to be - there it was - Daddys shirt sleeves stickin' out, and moms grey sweater showing underneath and pop pumping up and down furiously - this, why this was bordering on the grotesque! October 25 Got a "beauqet" or Bowkay, however you spell it, from Mr. Mann and a stingy little one from Mr. Dyck. I may not be beautiful or cute or charming or exotic or brilliant or anything but I am going to try to do something. And Ive got something on my mind - y'know honors, but will I? Id love to - It would be something half big...... December 17 [Margin: Daddy is again acting like a sulky, petulant, overgrown adolescent at the time this is being written.] After the last buzzar at school, Mr. Dyck said "O.K. Please go everybody. All except Elfreda." My jaw dipped and hung openly amid the barage of "a-hem"s that everybody sqwacked, (I believe that's spelled "squawked") Mr Dyck grinned widely, enjoying the whole thing immensely. Probably I looked as dumb as I felt. "Mr Mann wanted to talk to you" he said, and sure enough, just as if on cue, in walked Mr Mann, carrying a great big ruler over his shoulder. And he went straight to the point. He stopped purposely abruptly right in front of me and laid the ruler down on my shoulder with a bang for emphisas. Here it comes, thought I. He was very direct. "Ever heard of the Governer General's gold medal?" he demanded. "Y-yes" I said shakily. And then he tol' me that he wanted and was intending to expect me - actually me - to get it. But he said I'd have to WORK - aw .... ! Besides that, Mr Mann said " if you don't come out with at least an honors mark, I'll " and he demonstrated by swinging that ruler most frighteningly. What a most astonishing occurrence! At the very end he said "I've been thinking very seriously about this - " I left feeling slightly out of breath. December 18th ....10 to 5 PM! This may be one of my most unusual "impressions" entrés - Written in one of the most unusual places. In the Valleyview Phillips 66 café no less! and 1 hour till bus time so I can catch up with my news and maybe write a letter. I'll get to Edmonton about midnight. Really I didn't feel a pang when Mom and Dad left - I had all my pangs last night - all I'm going to have anyway. So, here I sit. The smokey smell of dinner, an empty Coke bottle with the tumbler tipped over top of it. - I'm afraid that the time will be gone far to fast. - And one of my tights clad legs is stretched to the seat on the other side of the table. I put lipstick on right after M'n'P vanished. I've got 23 dollars and ten cents! I can't spend all of it I guess, but its for the ticket and a room if I have to - beside me is the shabby black suitcase that Mom painted last night - and a shopping bag - not with the air of a seasoned traveller, I can imagine, but it's a begginning! - A beginning! A seasoned traveler would hardly be sitting around writing in a diary with her shoes off. The one waitress is fat and wears far to much lipstick, and flirts too much. The jukebox is right beside me, I'm in a booth right by the door so I can see everyone and everything. This is irrelevant, but I can feel the vibrations of "goodbye little darlin" through my toes on the seat! Now its gonna play a wildy - Donna. Oh, oh! The bus is here. Am waiting for the driver to finish eating - I'm shaking so hard inside that I can't write very good - not scared just excited! Later - the jerks are from the motion of the bus driving. I switched on my little light, and am reclining comfortably - that means shoes and things off - on a plushy seat cover. [University Hospital] December 19th. The room is on fourth, room 471 The room is loverly - And the whole joint is like a hotel. December 22 They cut me up. I saw the OR. Back in bed with a knee cast and terrific pain - love those painkillers. December 23 It hurts and hurts and cry baby as I am I've bawled and bawled. Everything seems so vague and unordered. December 24 [letter] Operation - I was sick for two days. Now I'm up on a stretcher. I think I'm going to manage financially, as I have $4.75 left. I will need $2.50 for the bus from Valleyview to Grande Prairie. However if I'm on crutches I won't be able to carry the suitcase the 3 blocks I will have to walk to the bus, so I'll have to take a taxi. But with my dollar I should be able to manage. Right at the very top of the hospital there is a huge sun-deck, and just where the elevator comes up there's a wee tiny room. Hardly anyone ever goes up there in winter so it's very quiet. I discovered Nicky up there yesterday, and it's an ideal place for talking 'cause it's got a view and exactly two chairs. My stitches come out sometime next week. After that it won't be long enough to stay here. January 4 1960 Whenever I think of that last elevator kiss - it was unorthodox, but a very romantic spot - I can still feel that pink lump expanding and glowing away far down inside And then I go all weak and slump with my eyes closed Maybe I'd better define what I mean by nuzzling. Nuzzling is when he tips my chair over backwards so its leaning on him, and when theres a little bit of cheek-to-cheek, and a little bit of muzzling (mouth nuzzling on my cheek) a bit of fooling around with my eyelashes little hair messing He started the cheek to cheek process again - and I had a feeling, so I turned my face around, but slowly just fractions of inches at a time he moved my face around and back Then - well, it happened, sorta sweet. He is one of those guys who is an artist as far as any sort of love-making goes a Master of the casual touch system (he sorta' rocked the chair, and every time it moved, he'd brush my hand with his then I'd get the queerest feeling - its hard to explain but the nearest I can get is: It feels like a fluffy feathery lump deep in my stomach expanding inside, tickling me all over. January 5 He got half his mouth on half of mine, (his mouth is soft, but not girlish by any chance ) I could feel all those little cool shivers run down my whole body then the shivers warmed up, and the pink lump started to expand again he told me I was shaking maybe I was, but his heart was deffinately beating faster, I felt it. I wouldn't let him see my face, so he kissed the back of my neck from behind, and I didn't do a thing about it! I just couldn't make myself stop him, because I was enjoying myself far too much. January 9 [letter] The entire population of this place, including staff, is supposed to be very near 7,000. I borrowed a tiny transistor radio - about the size of an electric shaver - from Doug, as his room has three and ours none. What do we do here for excitement? Well Doreen and I go for races in the tunnel that leads to the Mewburn Pavilion. Halfway its uphill and half down so we really zoom for a while. After one of these thrilling chases (in which we try to knock down as many people as possible) we come back and raid the fridge, which is usually full of fruit juices and milk shakes. Nights, I either watch TV or chat with Doug or chase around talking to people. I don't have to go to bed unless I want to, or get up when it's getting up time. My favorite nurse got the GG [Governor General's] medal when she was in grade 9. When I get back I'm going to put my nose to the grindstone and really forget about everything but studying. I heard that I got about 85 in the French test - did I? I now have 2 copies of Seventeen magazine and they are a real menace to the hospital management as the nurses and ward aids can't resist stopping their work to leaf through them. My best pal, the 15 year old psychiatric patient, went home for New Years and then disappeared. Nobody knows where she is. Tonight is hockey night so no TV. I'm writing this up in the penthouse whle waiting for something to do. January 12 She is adding her voice to the world.
She found this verse, and was imediately enthralled by the idea, by the truth, by the poetry of it. it is from the Bible, .... January 17, Station 46, ward 471 [letter written on University of Alberta Hospital nurses' notes paper] My cast is off, and I'm walking without crutches so I should get my walking papers soon. Unofficially, I've joined an every-afternoon club. It consists of me, a guy called Gerry Robbins, and a man from Dawson Creek whose name id Don Newman who is an ex-Canuck (hockey, in case you don't know, Mom). They are teaching me the vices. What the club is for is to play Rummy - oh, lower those Mennonite eyebrows again! I actually do play cards. (This is where you gasp for breath, remember.) And it's lots of fun - I play Racehorse Rummy (which is almost exactly like Rook except for the different cards), Hundred-point Rummy and Hearts. Mom, the deuce is not the devil or whatever you think it is, it is merely the equivalent of a Rook two. And you know what? I've been having a pretty good record for winning too. (Nope, no brimstone has fallen yet. Even when I wear lipstick.) So that's two new vices. Don't you think I should come home soon?! Oh, one I forgot - no, two. On Christmas day I had three sips of lemon gin. The other one I won't mention but Judy may be able to tell you after she reads my letter. Otherwise I'm the model patient because I'm always cheerful and occasionally make my own bed. Doc still hasn't decided when I go home. But it will have to be soon because I'm getting too healthy. I wish I could do some studying - no, I really don't wish I could. But I'm going to see if the hospital school where Jimmy goes will have any books, tomorrow. I've been having a wonderful time with Doreen. She is 35 but is just like a teenager to be with. We spent a thrilling afternoon chasing around in our wheelchairs. The reason for its being so thrilling was that we explored a lot of places that are off limits to paitients and were always in suspense about getting caught. What we were exploring was the labs, and a new wing, which was dark and empty as a tomb and as quiet. This new wing is naturally beautiful, and not yet open. After that we snooped around in the basement, looking for the morgue and having most delicious chills down our spinal columns. I know quite a bit about the hospital now, and am slowly collecting figures [statistics], too. But oh, the enormousness. I do all my washing and mending down in the O.T. room (Occupational Therapy). There is a lovely new automatic washer and dryer, an electric iron, and three sewing machines. I've been sewing my green skirt because I couldn't even wear it the way it was. Are you snowed under yet? Do the kids have to walk to school? I don't think I'll be able to for a while. Your card playin', hard drinkin' daughter, January 29 [letter} I am going to school, sort of. Mr Harrington is retired but he has a job as high school correspondence supervisor here. I've got Math and Socials books and do occasionally look into them. Every afternoon at 1 - I should be there now - I go up to the boys ward on 6th floor. I do some of their writing for them, and we have a good time always - more about them later, I have to go there now. Later - about the guys. In the Station 67 sunroom there are half a dozen boys with an average of sixteen or seventeen years of age. There are two iron lungs, four beds, six wheelchairs (two TVs, 6 radios, a record player wtigh amplifier, a tall, tall stack of records, a parakeet, three goldfish bowls, at least a couple of orderlies, a nurse or two, a book shelf full of encyclopedias and rocket books, cartons of Coke, loose papers, boys, and - lately - me. I enjoy the atmosphere thoroughly - the background records, the friendly clink of Coke bottles, the inevitable kidding around. The first few days after Mr Harrington introduced us they were just a little bit apprehensive, because they are terribly handicapped and are just old enough so that what the weaker sex thinks about them matters a little. But all I had to do was treat them like anybody, and they soon started kidding me - and after that I really look forward to the afternoons when we sit around with Cokes and talk. Mr Harrington says they do too. I usually write Arnie's Literature exercises for him (he can use his hands a little but can't write). My favorite is Clayton - he's got a wonderfully sharp mind and a ticklish sense of humor. And I like Henry too - he's very smart (Einstein's theories - nuclear stuff - rockets) and can speak French like a native. Glen is the grandpa. He smokes a pipe, is about nineteen, and easily the handsomest. Gary is a cute little boy, about fourteen. Sandy Burgess is only the most talked about patient in the hospital. He's 22, has been here 6 years, has his own radio program, and drives his motored wheelchair by a tube in his mouth. Arnie is a little guy in grade nine who is terribly smart too. All of them have enquiring minds and read a lot. The amount they know! Another day I act as secretary for a boy from Lac La Biche who broke his neck while diving. And he's brainy too. So besides learning how to swim I'm learning about everything from rockets and iron lungs to hospital management. I've already filled up the old journal and am fairly far into the one I bought a few weeks ago. I haven't been going to church here because all they have is Mass on Sunday mornings. I am still reading my Bible, nights. I met a few girls here too for a change. One is called Myrtle Ghostkeeper - she's a quarter Cree. We swim together. Instead of Mrs Thompson we now have a very dull room mate. She is neither good more bad, just fades into the wall so completely that it almost annoys me whenever she says anything. Thanks for the stamps. They should do me. Another Boy. His name is Paul, he's seventeen, and has a wonderful personality. He has cancer, and his leg is amputated all the way. Met him yesterday. In the afternoon, in the sunroom. I was curled up on the couch across from him. Pretending to watch television, but listening to him. "I bet I can make her smile" he said .... I struggled with my face. "Don't smile now - " I gave up and smiled at him. Then he walked over to the couch right behind me, and sat down. We started talking. "You're not shy, are you?" I laughed. But we began to talk seriously - and didn't stop till 11:30! Hes not like anything I thought. At first look, he was a small boy, very round cheeked, and innocent, even angelic. At second revealing glance, he was a boy who was trying to impress the men around with his ways to attract women. Ellies third glance, now that she knows him - tells her that he is someone she could go for in a big way. He's not "darling" - He's just interesting. She likes him - I think - better than anyone she's met yet, in here. He is a boy, but a real person. He is not good looking - rather small and skinny - with an artificial leg - and a limp far worse than Ellie's. His eyes pop too much. February 7 He got up again, and walked over to the only man left in the sunroom, and then walked around him, looking at him. He came back and sat behind her again. Looked out the window. "There's usually a lot of yellow cabs down there - " "Where?" "It's gone now." They sat, looking out of their windows - a wisp of Alberta Chinook in their faces. "Well," he drawled, "I guess I should go to bed." She looked up at him, and he looked down. Into her eyes. She closed them. His finger was under her chin again, lifting her face. He bent down very slowly, gently. It was like no other kiss on earth .... There was no Doug, no RK, nothing like this, ever before. His mouth was soft, very gentle, he moved it ever so slowly .... It was everything for a long time. When she dropped her head, weakly, onto her arms, he asked "What's the matter?" Feeling dizzy, she smiled. "Did I say anything was the matter?" And staggered to her room. February 8 My last night in the city - the wonderful city. I love those lights fiercely. They mean people living, wonder - to me. And the hospital. The big wonderful friendly place that evoke an "alma mater" spirit. A posessiveness, a pride. The place that is more like home than home itself. February 9 Paul had a wonderful idea - he ordered some "Chicken on the way" to be delivered to Station 46. It came, about 11:15 PM .... they set two lamp tables in front of the big grey chairs, and opened the carton - french fries, a roll, and half a chicken - Southern fried, and the most delishous chicken I ever ate! It was romance itself. Soft lights, and sweet music, and you in my arms - well, not till later, but afterwards he did put his arms around her, holding both hands And kissed her cheek. And tilted back her head and kissed her mouth.
I had forgotten the meagerness, the poverty, the distaste of this house. The flat meals, the lack of bathroom, the whiney, grumpy family. The greasy dishwater. The mess. But this is where I live - I'll just bury myself in studies. February 20 I can be bubbly too, very bubbly, but when someone more gracious, less gauche than I is around, I become a frump. And La Glace is petrifying me into that same frump. Won't I ever break loose, and be someone, in La Glace? I feel stifled, looked down on, patronized - Is it only a feeling? I need more self confidence - if I had myself here, the hospital self with so very many friends and the bubbly quality of Marna, but still with a little more behind - I would have more self confidence. Maybe I should be more agressive .... somehow, people here - nobody - even looks at me twice. I'll have to do something, and SOON, before I decay!
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