| still at home volume 3 part 2 - 1960 june-august | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
June 24 Hi! Impressions VIII I won't make a preliminary speech this time - what I've got to tell about won't wait .... Last nite I was honorary guest at a home and school meeting, and Mr. Mann made a long lavish speech about me, and - Well the Ladies aid always gives something to the high-ests in grades 9, 10 and 11. - So Mr. M told me the day before that I was to appear at the meeting so I knew why .... I had a new dress - it's a full skirted turquoise and blue patterned cotton, and I wore my hoop and crinoline under it so it stood a way out. I wasn't very pretty - but passible, and in a good mood. Janeen and Glenda were the other "honories" Jan was, as always, beautiful in her Bardot way. I wasn't very shiney beside her, but I held my own I'd like to have been the prettiest but I'm glad it was her because she's such good company and we had a loverly gab afterwards .... It was like old times. During the whole preliminary speech we sat and smiled and blushed, and tried to look indignant at such utter and obvious flattery. And were pleased to our toes. Mr. Mann said he - yak, yak - would teach for free if he had 20 students like me, that I had an extraordinary ability to express myself, that my mastery of English was outstanding, and yak, yak, yak. I drank it all in, watered it down considerably, and then believed about 50% of it and that's still too much! The minute of presentation came - Mrs Sheehan gave it to me, I said a "thank you very much" that didn't sound shakey but was, inside. Once more choice Mann-erism (couldn't resist the pun) - he said there was no limit to what I'd do if I wanted to, and that he expected me to make a National name for myself, writing. It may not be true, but it is just the push I need for my finals his encouragement is worth an awful lot to me, probably more than he will ever know about. After that was all over, we - Jan and I - had our pix taken with Mr Mann in front of the world map (symbolic?) Both of my teaches were gay (a previous Vodka party?) and we were escorted down the hall by Mr. Mann in grande style - Mr Dyck chortled, wise-cracked, and flashed the bulbs at us. one picture, J and I were on both sides of Mr. M and he had an arm around each of us, real cosy like; Mr Dyck said, "don't have them so close! It makes you look skinny!" Mr Ray, in a smiling mood, was there; Jan still has a crush on him (when we were discussing it later, we decided that it must be because he is not too obtainable - a challenge) and hes on a speaking, smiling, and admiring glances basis. But he is the absolutely Endsvillest as far as looks go - we're so lucky with our men teachers this year!! There was a mouth-to-mouth respiration film (like kissing a corpse) and then eats. We had our food alone in the cool laboratory. Mr Dyck came in for coffee, wistling something - then he started singing it, looking at us romantically "it's a little brighter where you are" - hes got the exactly right sort of seranading voice, .... I like him! I wish I was beautiful - I won't say why. There were a lot of hand shakes and introductions and congradulations, and "good luck!"s - I loved it - being the center of attraction .... Hey wait a minute! All this gabbing about the presentation and I didn't even say what I got! A travelling alarm clock in red, the gold clock between red plastic oyster shells, like. And the hands that glow in the dark. Beautiful - and take note - a travelling clock! I've got the world in my palm. Not always, just now. But it's nice. Definitely. After the Language test this morning, I went home with Lloyd (I like his nose and his sense of humor) and Bernice and Jim. Then - I've given up study, I went to town, where I smiled and smiled and smiled. I was extravagant - hair rinse in auburn, 2 sets of roller curlers, a Seventeen magazine, an ice cream cone, and a Coke. I was looking into a store window when a boy walked by - tall, very dark haired, wearing a black suit - I looked at his reflection in the glass, he looked at mine, I smiled, he walked past, looked at me again from the other side, I smiled again - that smile I've got in reserve for just that occaision - and was immensely pleased when he turned around, a few feet further, and looked at me again. A bit further down the street, he ducked into a doorway until I walked past. Slowly. In Joe's, I had a long gab with Raynold while sipping a Coke I was pleased that he'd bother even talking to me - I like him! (I've said that twice in the last 2 pages) Later during paying my bill - there was a semi-Chinese collecting my hard earned (earned by flattering Daddy) cash, I turned greep - He figured out a more efficient change system than I had, so I said "You've got a better mind than I have!" - he went blank for a minute, then said "thankyou" And that's the last word. June 25 A little bit of study and a big deal of cleaning but Mom is again bellyaching about how little work we are doing. June 30 My gay-wistful-lonesome last day of grade nine, and Mr. Dyck isn't coming back. July 1st And school ended yesterday. A lot ended with it. Mr. Dyck will never come back, and Mr. Mann will never again stand in front of our class, telling us about living .... I felt so forlorn yesterday, at eleven just before the buses came .... happy, but feeling the beginnings of this summer's loneliness. The last day is one I want to remember a long time because it was the end of a significant Time. I remember the feel of the concrete steps, warm and dusty, underneath me, and the sweep of my newest dress over a hoop and my pink net as it spread around me, and the coloured little pin-points of light that were reflected on the wall by the stones in my necklace and I was, maybe, a little bit pretty I was glad for that. Mr Ray and Mr Dyck were standing a few steps above me with their faces in the sun. They were gay: I was too, at least the outside half of me was. We chatted and laughed, Mr Dyck with his lovablest face on, and Mr Ray even said a few sentences to me. If I am in love with Mr. Dyck - and I don't know whether I am or not - I do know, tho', that I don't ever think about him in a wanting-to-kiss-him-way, - I don't feel the same way about him as I do about Reiner, but then they are vastly different. I think I probably feel the same way about him that I do about Janeen - That feeling consists of admiration, a large doze of hero worship, wistfulness, tenderness, and quite a bit of kindred-spiritness all put into my heart and shaken well - Not bad for the first time I've tried to put that feeling into the confining boundary of a sentence .... Mr Ray is something different again - not a special friend altho' I have a feeling that he would be if I could know him better. He attracts me as a boy, and intruiges me as a personality. He is a little bit recessive; never boistrous; occaisionally wistful, dreamy, or gay; and what I'd call "adorable" if I was writing Jan home about him, and he was seventeen he's twenty now, but not old. Not a teen either, really I've always had a feeling he was a little special, a little diferent, and maybe even a little like me. In his moods of quietness, of prefering loneliness in solitude to loneliness in company. And this little bit of affinity makes me curious, and, I think, makes him curious too. Sometimes he will look at me, not with that polite impersonal glance, but slowly. I'm glad. I'm going to drag my reluctant pen back to making a sentence, punctuating it properly, and arranging ideas in their proper form with irrelivancies ruthlessly left out. And I am going to finish telling about yesterday, even tho I could ramble for a long time. As I was saying, yesterday morning was gay, touched by sadness, but perfect in detail and feeling. I felt apart from the laughing girls, knowing that what I felt would find no sympathy in their young - so very young - eyes if they should know And when the buses came, I felt again that finality edged with an inconspicuous panic, and touched by an awe that the past which seemed so permanent and so strong should be over, yet gladness for memories and things learned and an uncertainty of the future. Ellie, learn to accept the past as having a period after it, and meet the future with only question marks, not doubting commas, or semi colons unwilling to be completely severed from what has been before. learn this, and you will have fewer longing moments - and now I've turned philosophical Preserve me from doddering "wisedom" lest I think that I am old and sage before I am sixteen!! In spite of resolves, I have again wandered - forgive and forget, I'm not too balanced yet after the push into summer .... In the bus, I sat looking out of the window, not ahead but back to the steps and Mr. Dyck, and I wished for any excuse to go back into the school the breeze from the window was lusty and the walk home happy but slowed by reminecence .... I threw some flowers into the creek, each with a wish, and hurried away so that I would not see if they got caught in the twigs .... And now on grade nine I can write "finis" and sign my name at the bottom of the page with an abandoned swirl, and only hope that the summer will be a wild wonderful one - although it may not be fair to say "hope" when I have so little faith .... I am going to write The Story this summer, and while I don't yet know what it will be about, I am going to write it, and write some of my groping self into it. Finis July 2 For once I spent almost the whole day WORKING!! Weedding that everlasting garden at Bakstads. I went for the mail but no letter. Ellie July 3rd Yesterday we were at Bacstads again, howing those everlasting rows of potatos, hacking murderously at the stinkweed. Ugh! It was a bother - the work seemed so endless and there was so much else to do. But in the afternoon I stole some time and lurched down the lane toward La Glace on the bicycle. The road was smooth and people were friendly - maybe because there is something about a girl on a very rattly bike, riding leisurely in the sunshine, that makes people instinctively want to wave. Thursday, as you know very well, is always The Letter day - every other Thursday there has been a bulky envelope with "R.Koblotzki" scrawled on the back and an Edmonton terminal postmark. There has been. On Thursday I rode to get the mail confident that The Letter would be there. I was almost shocked when it wasn't, and more than almost disappointed. But there was a letter for me, from Mrs Powell, [Eunice Boyd in grade 3] who until now has been my favorite teacher. She was pretty, and she played popular songs on the piano while we listened around her, and she was especially nice to me .... Now, that I am more in need of stimulation than affection from my teachers (altho' I still enjoy the latter!) Mr. Dyck and Mann have moved up to the top spot. I was glad, very, to hear from her too But none from Reiner. La Glace was so quiet while I drove thru' bumping and rattling; I had to smile at the noise. I eyed the pile Mrs Blask handed me expectantly - there were a lot of letters But not The Letter. Reading Grandma's note, I felt let down. Faye Olson, and Carol, and Lorraine got out of a car and at the sight of them I felt that resentment I always feel when they stalk by without a word, their model-perfect clothes rustling distain, or complete unawareness that I was around. Lorraine said "Hi Elfreda" and I said hi back, gratefully. I wonder, a summer romance? Not just any girl, I mean, but a special girl, pretty and poised, and very sweet .... ? I couldn't actually resent her if it was - because I'd never know, and because I wouldn't ever quite believe it, altho' I should be mildly surprised that he has written so often, with so much feeling, so long. I knew, and know still, that this will end sometime - I mean, it has to, but I will be sorry, and I will feel forlorn altho' not as I did when I left Mesa, or when Doug went home .... There will be no inside ranting, maybe a few soft tears, but no scenes, and no torment. And after it's over, I may not believe in myself so much. It is inevitable, but I will enjoy this as long as I can. He is my first "lover", and after him, it will take a long time before there is another. I will not be able to fall back into the arms of reality, but only dreams - and they have no texture or strength, you can't rub them between your fingers, like you rub the dust on a hot day, and you cannot feel their warmth as you feel the warm strong fingers curled around yours while you wait for the bus on a cold nite Their substance is not substantial, but more like reflected warmth - something you are not really in contact with, but something that can substitute if you have the reflector of an imagination. And even if you are comfortable enough with the reflectings, dreams are not complete with the smell of hair tonic, the feel of rough tweed against your cheek, or genuine emotion You can't feel the quickened beating of his heart against your face even if you have a 3-D imagination. Maybe The Letter will come on Tuesday If it doesn't, I shall exist, I suppose; it will hurt, but if it doesn't come on Tuesday, it will surely come on Thursday, or on Saturday. Or on the Tuesday after that. July 4 Only half days work at B's - the rest? Undress, sunning, swimming in the warm lake, reading Redbooks and Phtotoplays Thursday, July 5th Of Course it came. I had to write that one little sentence to tell myself that it does pay to have a certain amount of faith in the future, even if it is only the day after tomorrow. Today was one of those days - I woke up pretty, and got prettier all day then I decided to go to Sexsmith with Elizabeth Voth. I waited for her at the gate - the sun was very hot, and I was wearing that pink dress with the scoop neck and wide skirt. Isn't it funny how that "I was wearing" is so all-important. At Sexsmith after the breezy ride in the station wagon with my elbow out the window and the sun making my tan look browner, and more coppery, I went to the shoe maker's and left one of my penny loafers to get a few heels put on (a lift, actually!), then went to the drug store to see about getting some "Copperton" suntan lotion, or some "Neet" to take some of that fuzz off my top lip - I don't actually need a tanning help but I want some tan on my face so I thought "Coppertone" sounded good - The druggist was leaning his long lanky self over the counter, reading a novel. After a "lengthly interval" he looked up and asked "can I help you?" So I asked him about the "Coppertone" lotion, and he said he only had the oil, and it cost $1.65 so I beat a hasty retreat by asking about the "Neet" he didn't have the 75 cent tube type, so I go out of spending a lot of money. He's cute, friendly, t-d-a-h, but married. Aw. Then I scurried back to the cluttered little shoe shop to see if my shoes were anywhere near being finished. cluttered is actually no word for it because it was much worse than that. harness, half soles, rubbers, signs, rugs, magazines, and that wonderful smell of leather .... Old Albert was working at it - slowly, conscientiously, and gabbily, as always. I love the sound of that bell over his door, and I said so. That pleased him, so he told me all about them, and then started telling other stories about his customers. I like the atmosphere - gabby, cool, dark, and aromatic, and very, very informal - who could be formal in all that mess? He took a long time - I would have been more comfortable if I hadn't been hopin' Elizabeth wasn't waiting for me. At the drugstore where I was going to meet her later, I couldn't see the station waggon so I walked into the meat market to get something to eat, if possible. The clerk was gabbing into a phone - so I walked over to the ice box, and surveyed the tangled mass of stuff critically. When he hung up, he said "Find what you were looking for?" Fishing up a dixie cup, I said "I think so .... " Then I dug in that little change pocket. "One penny" I said laying down a red one "That helps" he said. "Two cents" I got out another penny, and then a nickle "Seven cents! Thank you". On the street, I saw the station waggon parked across the street so I left my junk in it, put on my oh-so-much-more-comfortable penny loafers, and decided to walk down to the café. A couple of guys, chatting some other language looked at me with what I thought was approval, and that bolstered my ego lots. I asked for a Hi-Spot in the café, the man said "Tak out?" the woman said "Tak out?" and I said "Oh! Yes." So I grabbed the bottle and walked back with it, watching my reflection - thats one reason women love to go window shopping - they're not looking at the stuff inside - don't let 'em kid you! They're looking at their own fat, skinny, smily, grumpy, beautiful or ugly faces. Natcherally! But I wasn't looking at my face - I was observing the results of that lift - less limp, decidedly. And I was happy about that. The approving glance characters were still there, and while I sat in the car swigging Hi-Spot and admiring my tan while the admiring glancers admired me. Nice. We went back to L.G. - It was late and I still "had" to get the mail - while waiting, I got a brainstorm and because it was such a good day - I went to the back and asked if I could help sort mail. She said okay. And it was fun - I couldn't resist glancing at our box - a couple of envelopes later I looked again - "R.Koblotzki" What a relief! When I couldn't help anymore I mailed my carefully composed thankyou notes to les professeurs Dyck and Mann, then asked if I could have our mail toute suite, and skipped out with it. Reading Reiner's letter took me until I had walked completely out of town. (Nice gabby letter! Everything is gabby today!) The road was pebbly but all right - I was reading the letter over again when a car stopped - a ride! Three miles was a long ways so I hopped in "How far are you going?" he said. "Up to our corner," I said inanely, and then realized that he didn't live in the district - a goof!! The guy beside him had short curly black hair, beautiful eyes with stubby lashes. Cute. "Move over so you don't get her dirty with those pants" said his father - the guy who was driving. They work at the "rig" and come from Fort Saint John - "That's why I didn't know what to think when you said you were going to your road" explained Father with a chuckle. He then went into a discourse about what nice country this is. During a lull, I asked Son "what do you think about it?" "It's okay." At our corner - I told them where it was - they turned in and asked where I lived - I told them it was a ways down. "On top of the hill?" asked Son, and later he commented "It's a long way to walk." "It is, but I was expecting some mail so it was worth it." "Sure" said the Father, "Sure" said Son. I told 'em where our lane was, and they decided to see me right up to the door. Half way up the lane I said "But what's my mother going to say about this?" "Oh it's okay, seeing it was me and him instead of him and his brother" said Father. "Is his brother as good looking as he is?" asked yours truly, on an unacustomedly flirty impulse. "More" muttered Son. "Yeah, we think so" added Father. "We get along." When I hopped the car (a newer model too!) I said "Thank-you-very-much-for-the-ride." "S'okay" said Father. "See yuh" said Son. I wish I could see him again! My feet hurt. July 6 Mom and Dads anniversary was spent painting the garage and my legs white, and aquiring a tan and finishing a 7-page letter to Reiner. I'm really getting brown. July 7 An enormous Eatons order came - for me - a Bella 44 camera, a red blouse, socks, panties, a white purse, T-shirt (Judy's too) and shoes - Judy's, that I can wear. July 9 I don't think that I will ever stop being amazed and a little bewildered by the power a book can have over me. Judy came home from town yesterday with a load of books under her arm. Before midnight yesterday I had finished two. One was a Beverly Gray "adventure" story about a lot of incredible experiences happening to a bunch of rich, silly, selfish and completely sham young people. It was a complete waste of time - handsome men and lavish scenes, and wining and dining and flirting all revolved around Beverly and her dreadfully sucessful friends. I was disgusted. She was catty, undiciplined, mean, and thoughtless, as was everybody else. And even more sickening were the sticky parts about their pretend "emotions" And after that, I read "The Good Master" by Kate Seredy. And it was so different! It was an unpretencious story about love. Not sticky, just a story about a boy who lived on a large Hungarian ranch that was saturated with love, and the rich lore of his country. Kate Seredy, all through her book, made me feel the grandeur of her native land, and sense the charm of it, and gave me understanding. That is why Beverly Gray book leave me so unsatisfied. I can learn absolutely nothing from them, or feel anything. They talk about adventure endlessly, but merely reading Kate Seredy's books is an adventure in itself! If I cannot write anything more worthwhile than "Beverly Gray on a World Cruise" I really don't think I'd want to write anything at all. Her characters, as they were in "The Chestry Oak", are real, and tender, and you find yourselves loving them just as they love everyone. And always, in the families and the countries she writes about, Kate Seredy can find poetry, write it into singing paragraphs, and illustrate it with the lovely flowing lines of her symbolic drawings. And she is what I would like to be if I could ever write - artist, and poet, and the friend of my country, its people, and the world. July 9 - PM Installment 2. It is wonderful and awful at once, and I am a dazed conglomeration of daydreams and aprehension. I knew, before I opened it, what was in that flat envelope postmarked "Edmonton Terminal" and I was suddenly scared - The adress, written instead of printed as usual, looked hurried, but the writing left absolutely no doubt as to the "identity of the writer" to say it windily. It was a short letter, and it didn't take me long to gasp my way thru it and tell Mom the News. Reiner is coming - HERE! - on the next Sunday after tomorrow. I don't know what's going to happen He said maybe noon next Sunday, and he won't be here long So at last he's going to see what it all really is, this place and me - the tormenting question is "what will he think?" If he comes in the afternoon, there may be one big mess - all of us sitting in the living room, stilted and speechless - and I won't even be able to hold - I was about to say - hands - (when Mom kiped the lamp and I had to finish today). But this is what really scares me - he thought I was pretty then - will he now? Will the different background make him think of me differently? After he goes back, will he still be able to say "I love you"? July 10 Henry Seiberts brought a watermelon for us and Miss Dyck came with them so there were 12 for a melon fiesta. July 12 Sewed a very splashy white skirt with green flowers and blue leaves on it and a blue-striped blouse. July 15 Went swimming in the creek. July 15 10:30 P.M. Friday nite - and now - I figured this out mathematically in the margin (50 miles per hour @ 3 hrs since 8 P.M.) Reiner will be approximately 150 miles closer to - me, and us, and all that. I'm not so scared now, just happy. Can't wait to see him Will he still be the same? I just hope he can find us! I guess I'll wear my blue-green dress, with the jangly goldish necklace, that sets off my tan so glamorifically. I've got new shoes too, with very pointy toes. There may even be a certain amount of drama on Sunday, I just hope I'm pretty .... !!! That's what I want most, I think I'll have to confess an escapade - an Eventure - it was fun too, in an unorthodox sort of way A few night ago, our heroine was restless. This pequliar restlessness was not due so much to unseen forces as it was due to the menacing screels of the mosquitoes around her head, but anyway - She strode decidedly to the closet, told her morbidly curious sister that the night was too nice to spend in bed, and clomped out in the latters enormous saddle shoes. The bike, unusually subdued, perhaps sleepy, zipped down the driveway with nary a rattle, and then headed West, being a young bike. Our Heroine had a vague feeling of being directed - by her mind - toward the hiway and points South. The darkness wasn't really dark, just greying, and the impression was "stillness, and the greying stiller stillness" Our heroine experienced the impression of entire solitude - Only the polished-tin surface of the water in the ditches and the grand, vast, sky splotched with gargantual white clouds. Fifteen minutes later, she saw before her the uncertain white forms of the church, and turned into the driveway. She hid the bike in the grass, and entered, trying to stifle the half born echoeings of those shoes on the board floor. Seated at the piano, she placed her hands on the keys, fingers spread Almost she expected an unexplained something to move those fingers, and make them play something never heard before - some song that was exclusively, and of course, hers completely. And of course we could expect anything to happen in a dark church where even the mice are quiet, But this is not a fairy tale. She found some chords, played them over and over, the echos mixing with the new sound. And then she started singing, a contralto, "Let Me Go Lover" but stopped abruptly. It is, really, much too flippant to be sung in church .... But "Just to Dream" is more wistful So she began one-fingering that, and played the first bar repetedly, in the dark, learning the feel of it. And later, when she thought she should soon go, she played taps, echoing it in the empty church. Outside, she saw an approaching light, flattened herself on the grass with the bike, and waited. There was a dreadening sight a finger of light pointing down, straight down. Our heroine felt an instantaneus fear, then released it as quickly as she had clutched it, for the "finger" was actually the light shining onto a telephone post. Once, just for an atom of time, she had expected a vision. That's what the night, and atmosphere does to you! Occaisionally, while I was in the church, I had to talk to myself to build a sound-wall around me, to keep out terror .... So strange! The bike grumbled metallically on the home road, annoyed at being kept up so late. Still, to the girl-hero, the night was strangely a limited, small thing, holding only herself, thunder, and the sudden, sky-slitting lightning. And I can't think of a better way to end this. July 17th Now, after a whole week of days that seemed to say "he's coming - tomorrow" the day is here. D day - VE Day, everything. I worked yesterday, cleaning up, and got two big red blisters for it - But things look better cause yesterday morning I said "Theres going to be some changes made" and I made 'em altho' I had wilted before dinner. There is a little bit of tension - all this reminds me of the tension, and the entry I made the night of the Ice Capades. Now I have a little bit more confidence in myself - not much more - and I know him better. Just a sketch of me - this is very important! My hair is behaving itself all right. I put an auburn rinse into it yesterday and the curl is right too. My eye make-up - mascara enough to curl the tips, and just a stroke of pencil in the corner of each eye and to lengthen my eyebrows. Skin - okay, thank goodness! That pimple nearly didn't vanish in time tho' .... A smidgon of lipstick, not enough to attract attention from my eyes. My blue dress that makes my skin book browner, and new, pointy, black shoes. I just hope that I'll be able to keep his beady little ol' eyes focused on my top half so he doesn't see too much of my legs. What a bug! Having to work so hard to conceal the obvious I mean. I just keep hoping that by some chance he won't see or won't care .... "Around noon" he said. It's quarter to twelve now. I wonder what everything will work out like - and what will happen, or if anything will happen But I'll blot my lipstick - just in case. July 19th Baksteads kitchen table. The big chair was just big enough to hold me, the cat, and a Western thriller by Zane Grey, comfortably. But I was reading torpidly, and with hardly any interest. Peggy Day sat there in the kitchen, talking to Mom while I looked furtively at her big stomach. I'd been jumping every time I heard a car, all morning. Mom said "Uh - Ellie, I think there's somebody here to see you - looks like travellers." My leap from the chair to the mirror was an extravagant one. I hadn't even heard a car! "Your hair doesn't need combing" Mom reassured, and as I swung out the door I heard her explaining behind me, "a friend of Ellie's from Edmonton, shes been writing to him. He was coming toward the house, looking tallish and leanish in dark pants and a white tee-shirt And, of course, my heart went "bump" he looked just the way he should, and just the way [he] always has, only handsomer. He looked as tho' he'd like to have kissed me, but with my mother lookin' thru' the window and his two pals watching, well - So we just looked at each other, and he touched my hand, and then turned around and introduced me to his pals. A bouncy looking man with no square contures anywhere was wearing a splashy Hawaiian shirt, and the dark little man had a cookie duster. "This is George, and this is Smitty" Reiner said off-handedly. Smitty, the one with the mustache, demured, "Freddie, Freddie is my name!" "We call him Smitty," said George. They hadn't had any dinner yet, so they tagged behind into the kitchen where I tried to introduce them. Reiner named his queer friends "George and Smitty". "Freddie" said Smitty under his mustache. "Mom, they haven't had any dinner yet." I said, making it sound as tho' theyde been thru' an ordeal. We were setting the table when Daddy came in, in his bare feet. I introduced them - "he's George, and he's called Smitty" I said. "Freddie iss my name," insisted Smitty. I kicked myself mentally, but with a chuckle. Mom was bustling around getting the food, George and pop - who had put on boots - were gabbing noisily, Smitty put in an occaisional word, and Reiner and I were like little mice, a bit shy. I was determined that I was going to sit beside him at lunch, no matter what, because he might only stay a wee little while and maybe I wouldn't even get to hold his hand .... So I had a cup of coffee while they ate, and showed him my camera. I had a long chance to look his "pals" over so I took it, and filed their faces away in my rusty mental filing cabinets. George was tall, but over-fed. His back end was circular, and likewize his stomach and his eyes. The lightish hair that looked ruffled from continually running his fingers thru it gave the impression of being very temporary - he'll be as bald as an egg before long!! As a contrast to his gabby, open personality and his rosy skin, Smitty was quiet, insinuating, and sort of grey instead of pink. I didn't like him very well, but I did enjoy George! During the conversation I learned that they were going to stay overnight in G.P. and leave Reiner here. "Oh!" I thought "maybe it is a good thing after all that I blotted that lipstick " and was very happy. He dragged out two cameras and a blue overnite case, and set them in the corner after the queer pair had left. "Let's go for a walk," he said. "Okay!" So he hauled out both of the cameras and we took off. Half way down the lane he groped for my hand and when he had it, it was just like it always was, only nicer. More piquant. I showed him different places and explained different things, until we got to the bridge. "Don't be in such a hurry!" he said when we got there. "Go stand over there and pose." You know how I hate posing when he takes pictures but he did take two pix anyway, and then we scrambled thru' the fence and into the grass in Mr. Kinderwater's field - When we got to some terrifically high grass, I said, "No snakes." "Good" he said. "I like snakes," I said positively. "Well, then you're the first girl I ever heard of who did." "I like caterpillars too, and mice." "Caterpillars!?!" "Um-hum. They're pretty. Daddy says it isn't very feminine "It isn't!" "I don't know about that. Most girls only pretend to be scared of them, because it brings out the - " I paused a moment to pick out the right word - "knight in a boy" I finished. "Yeah!" He laughed. By now we were almost there, so I showed him the place. Natcherly his photographer's mind started to click, so he told me to sit down by the creek and pretend I was dreaming. So I did, and he clicked two times, and then we walked back. Crawling thru' a fence with a crinoline on is no off-hand matter, I found, so once I got stuck, and he had to unhook my crinoline. After I was safely on unfenced land again, he looked at me and grinned. He may never rescue me from a caterpillar but he has gallently come to my aid when a barbed wire had me in it's villanous grasp! When we passed the dump on the way home, I decided I was going to be crafty, and keep us from going back to our oh-so-bechaperoned house. "Are you tired?" I asked "No, why?" he said. "Because I am. Let's go sit down over there." "Okay!" he said, so we scrambled down to those concrete culverts that have been sitting there for years. They were warm, I remember. He sat down beside me on one, and put his arm around me. - I was surprized, pleasantly, because he'd never done that before without kissing me afterwards. So we sat with my cheek on his shoulder and his on my hair, talking. It's a wonderful way to talk - a big improvement on the old fashioned across-a-table method. Once he did move down and kiss the half of my mouth that he could get at. I asked him about Paul - I hardly ever think of him any more - and we talked about marriage. He too insists that I am going to get married but he can just wait and see - ! Then he looked at my palms and told me my fortune - I'm going to get married, have 4 children, and sometime in my life I'm going to have a serious illness but I'll live through it to an old age. My heart-line is longer than my head-line so I'm more emotional than sensible. I head a clattering from down the road and said, "Here comes Pauly!" Sure nuff, about five minutes later we saw him riding past with a big grin on. "A-hem!" he said, and rattled on. Reiner grinned. He was holding my hand, and, just as he always has, was admiring my polish. Then he hugged me again it was won'erful. "Maybe we should go back" I said, dutifully but not very loudly. If he heard me, he ignored it, and I was glad because I had only said it because I thought I had to justify my enjoyment or something. When he has his arms around me, he does it thoroughly and really squeeze. Not that I mind. After a while we walked back, and took a picture of the house from the road. Mom and Dad were in the gardin, inspecting the vegetables and all you could see was their red blouse and white shirt against the green, green barley. While I helped Mom set the table he roamed around outside and asked Pauly a lot of questions. Then he came in, and when we sat down to eat, he slid in beside me instead of where Mom had tho't he should. Haw-haw, Mom! I tho't jubilantly. During supper Daddy and Mom were inviting him to go to evening service with them, said he'd like to see a different sort of church, etc, etc. I didn't want to - after all, who wants to sit thru' a sermon when you can be talkin to somebody like RK - m-m-m And he didn't want to either - well, it was late, and Mom was in a rush. "We'll do the dishes," I said, and when mom had skipped into the bedroom to change, I added "You don't have to go to church if you don't want to " "Oh, I'm not going to!" he said airily, "don't finish the dishes too soon." It worked, of course. When we heard the sound of the truck's engine starting, we looked at each other triumphantly and laughed. "We won!" we both said. And then we digged out the cameras again, and took off down the road. He said he wanted more pictures of me, and I didn't like the idea of all those pictures but he explained "Photography is a challenge - you photograph a woman over and over, and then pick out the ones that show her at her best." So what could I say? After about - oh - maybe ten pictures, he ran up the hill for his tripod. I watched him go, enjoying the sense of freedom in his loose strides. He turned at the top, to look at me, and then got it and got back to me. I didn't know it, but he was going to take some self exposures. He set the dial someway, and as it started ticking, rushed to where I was and had an arm around my shoulder before it clicked. Then I heard Rudy crying and we went in to give him his peanut butter sandwich. We were sitting on the table, so dear precocious little Rudy happily came and sat there with us. So Reiner said, "Lets go sit in the living room - " and guess who followed us - ! Nothing could make him go so we gave up and went for a walk. Rudy, of course, came too. We were getting discouraged! So I had to resort to threats "Rudy if you come along we might throw you into the creek!" It worked, but he looked petulant! Oh, well! We only walked "around the block" this time, and when we got back, there was Pooh, building block castles. So we sat down in the living room again, so did Pooh, so we started suggesting things that he could do, but he was too shrewd. Finally, after feigning wild enthusiasm about putting his cat away to bed, we managed to send him scampering. "Congradulations!" said R.K., but a bit too soon because just then he barged thru' the door again. Just then I looked thru' the window - "Here they come!" I said. And the red and white truck was just turning into the gate - Reiner looked at me, Rudy scampered into the kitchen, and then R.K. closed in again, in a big hurry. We were in the kitchen when Mom came in, and I asked her some questions - trying to look very innocent and normal, and all. And then R.K. said "Lets go for a walk" Outside, I said "Where to?" "We'll see." So we held hands, and walked. Lowes - Mr and Brian - drove past and stared. Then, an old black car whisked past. I saw Glenda's wide mouthed stare and laughed. Somebody is going to be curious! At the bridge, we looked over the rail at our reflection, then turned. He put an arm around me again for walking but I didn't like that too well because I had trouble not joggling. So I plotted, and at the detour sign I stopped, and we fixed it so that the detour pointed into the dump. Then I grabbed his hand quick so he couldn't put it around me. (Smart chick, huh?) We were going up the hill when a light blue pick-up stopped beside us, and a leering voice said, "Are you lost?" and then he remarked "Its a nice evening isn't it?" "Very nice. Are you looking for somebody?" "Oh - no - I was just driving " As he drove off, I said "Wise guy!" and Reiner agreed with me 100%. We were on the last stretch to back home when he asked "What now?" It was about 10:30, and Mom and Dad would prob'ly have conniptions if we didn't go home too soon. Besides, the mosquitos were awful. "Well," he said tauntly, "I guess this is about it." "I guess so." I didn't want to look at him, and just kept walking but a few steps later he stopped. It was exactly like it was in Edmonton - only nicer! - when he put his arms around me. He's got such strong brown arms And I put mine around him, and leaned my face against his shoulder so he couldn't kiss me. He kissed my cheek, and then tried to lift my chin - and hes so strong! Its now or never, I thought so I took his face between my hands and kissed him, very gently, and then slid my arms around his neck. I'll remember that for a long time - I've waited for it a long enough time too, and years from now I'll think of it with tenderness. I'm a little bit funny - a long emotional kiss just leaves me with no acute sense of anything, but a tender one, just very gentle, can mix me up so badly that I can hardly stand up I just feel churned up and blissful Reiner kisses, not with a great deal of finesse, but with an infinite amount of sincerety I like his way for it's honesty. He doesn't pretend, he's just expressing himself, and he doesn't express anything he doesn't mean. After I kissed him, I tho't - that was for hello, and goodbye, and good night .... And I almost said it, but it's awfully hard to talk to somebody you've just kissed - funny! The first thing I said was meant to be impersonal, about mosquitos - "They do get worse." He said - "I get older .... " and I thought astonishedly, he thought I said "you do get worse"! "I guess so." I said. "So do you," he said softly. Its true, but I wonder how he meant it - Lunch back at the house broke the spell. I couldn't eat, but he could, and did! I sat beside RK across from Pop, but curled up on the chair, with my back to Daddy, and the little Kinderwater cat in my lap. The lamp was lit, and shone on Reiner's face. Daddy started arguing religion with him - trust Daddy for that! - and I didn't say anything, and just watched Reiner, soaking up impressions. His hair is about as black as it can get,, and he's got one of those short-at-the-sides-longer-on-top haircuts. His skin is terrifically tanned. Over his eyes - dark eyes - his eyebrows aren't untidy, but sort of rambling [sketch] - shaped like this, and very black. He's got a straight nose, just about perfect - not too wide - and a widish mouth that really "ups" when he smiles. The rest - all the way down - is almost exactly like it should be. He's not tall enough to make me stretch to kiss him, but not short enough to keep me from smiling up at him. I love his arms - they're long, very brown, and curved exactly right at the biceps. Pauly was rather wowed by those muscles! I could sit and admire them for hours, and I did! At 11:30, Pop finally decided to go to bed. I had been yawning and yawning all evening - Reiner was going to sleep in the living room .... I wanted to say g'nite to him but daddy always seemed to be around. I was in my room, wondering how, when I heard him walk past, and hesitate. I walked over to the door, leaned out, and heard him say "Ellie - goodnite!" Back in my room, I wheedled Judy into letting me sleep beside the wall. (Why?!!) I slept when I could - with the delicious sensation, but the novel one, of having him so close - just on the other side of the wall. a lot of the time I just lay there and tho't about him .... next [to me]. It was a little unbelievable. About 5:30 that morning I woke up, smiling to myself of course, read my Bible, then peeked through the crack at him. All I could see was his head, the back of it, on his pillow, and he looked as tho' he was sleeping. I had to go to the can, so I wrapped my cover around me and walked out. On the way back I picked a rosebud to keep beside that white flower I kept a long time ago. At six, I heard the alarm clock - my red one - go off in the living room and then I heard him shut it off, and after that I bounced out of bed and into that white skirt with green flowers and blue leaves on it, and my new blue overblouse. But he was outside with Daddy before I got up. Breakfast wasn't too gabby - I took one bun and had an awful lot of trouble getting it down. (Whatever happened to my appetite?) I didn't even notice much else (it was like the night before when he had been listing all the things he'd seen and I said "and all I saw was you") Afterwards we did the dishes again "Did I ever tell you that I used to bake all the cakes at our house?" he asked. "No! I'll bet they were all flops." "You'd just be surprized!" he countered. Y'know this time I find in him a capacity for banter that I'd never seen before. It delighted me because I'd never known before that he could be so teasy. When he told me that he loved to tease girls and make them mad, I said "well, you don't succeed very well!" "Oh, but I don't tease you! You're different!" he explained. I'm glad of that ....! when the dishes were done we went outside to watch Daddy milk for a few minutes, then went and sat on the sidewalk with the kitten and my camera, talking photography. A sudden windfall of two dollars from him for film amazed me, and left me absolutely flabbergasted. Just about then, Mr Voth came up the drive-way, and talked to me while he waited for Pop. He had the most comically curious look on his face, and I'd give a lot to hear what he told Elizabeth when he got home! While he and Daddy were talking, R.K. asked me "Was he at a party last night?" and I said "Oh no! He always talks as tho' he has a flask in his back pocket but he doesn't." George and Co were supposed to be there about an hour ago, but they weren't and the family was in a beeg hurry to get to Baksteads, so they decided to leave, and let me come on the bike. [R's photos of my mom and dad eating lunch] Reiner and Mom made the usual "It-was-nice-to-meet-you-do-come-and-see-us-again-sometime noises, and then they were gone. So we talked photography again, and after a long sunny time he took my hand, and then leaned me against him in our own private way (we should get a patent on it) and we gabbed for a long time more. Then suddenly, before I could even gasp, he lifted me under my arms and sat me on his knee. Those strong arms again! As you know, I don't much like sitting on knees, but didn't know how to get off. Every once in a while, I'd hear a car, and look over his shoulder at the road. Once, when I was getting my head back to his shoulder, he decided to kiss me, but I ducked, so he kissed my cheek, slowly. "You haven't changed," he said, and there was a laugh in his voice when he said it. I just sat and brushed his arm with a piece of grass and told him about "K.S." and "V'standen" and "Eventures." Then I saw my escape from his lap! A spider that was just far enough to stretch for - so I stretched, tickled it, and when I sat down again, it was on the sidewalk. (!) A long time later, he wanted to see some baby pictures of me, so I hauled out my album, and then washed the cream-seperator while he wiped. An' then, I hauled out my 2 yearbooks. He read my biog; I read it over his shoulder and realized with a gasp that it contained the little phrase "if that certain Edmonton guy doesn't interfere." Yikes! He looked at me, laughed, and said "I guess I'm getting famous, aye?" so I 'splained about how it was - nothing else to write about. Low-and-behold, he got out a notebook, and copied it down word for word, while I watched. I was snooping at the notebook when I discovered, on the back page, a scrawled "Ellie ELLIE Ellie" I wonder when he wrote that!? So I'm not the only one guilty of doodling peoples names all over. Just while I was showing him a few pictures, a car swept up and blew its horn. It was them, natch. And already I started to miss him. They came in for water, and filled up their thermos after gulping - George in particular - down an odd gallon or two like a hippopotamus. George was happy and glowy, Smitty grinned greyly and sat with his arms folded across his skinny chest. They were talking about how they'd slept and "Reinie" as George calls him, told 'em he slept on the sofa. "Did he kept you warm enough" asked Smitty. It took me a minute to catch what he said - it was so unexpected that it didn't register. "What?" I asked. "You talk to much, Smitty" Reiner said tersely. And then they decided to go. Just before following them out the door, Reiner kissed my cheek, and returned my woebegon smile with interest. "Maybe I can see you again on Labor Day," he said, got into the car, and waved back at me. If my reflexes hadn't been so gummed up, I would have blown him a kiss. Epilogue - After that, I had to hop on the bike and pedal for Baksteads but I was bouyed up all the way, and even my legs seemed to function better. In fact, I was so buoyed that I gabbed with Valerie Torgerson, waved a big enthusiastic wave at Gary Angen, and leaned on the fence gabbing to Raynold and Charles while they milked that evening! I feel about as close to being "in love" with the guy as is possible - and I miss him, miss him, miss him! - Like crazy. Well, why shouldn't I? After all, 10 pages of Impressions during 13 awake hours are not to be sneesed at! July 24th I forgot a few things that I shoulda' had in my verbal orgy So I'll drop them in now: One thing was very important - while I was sitting "elevated" that morning, he said, "Ellie ...., you know, I still like you as much as I did when you were in Edmonton " and that means - Ellie, I like you an awful lot - remember? I - being unromantic - grinned wickedly and said "And you are just as nervy as you used to be!" Nobody can say I was too romantic! July 30 A letter from Jan! Mary Dyck's wedding - Pete sang 2 solos, her dress was B.U.T.fl. Got a candid of Mr. Mann and 1 of Pete too. July 31st In his last letter he wrote - I've read those sentences so often that I've memorized them - "Ellie, you know I Love You - Need I still tell you that you're the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me?" and I find myself feeling completely abstract, but so blissful, every time I read those 23 small words. On Friday evening I baby sat for the McKeeman twins, and tried to answer the letter I had gotten that morning. But Mava was talking too much, and I sloshed lemonade and orange juice on it so I gave up. Then M went to bed - I decided to write RK an unmailable letter, just to let go and say what I felt. So I scribbled, forming my feelings into inky scriggles on the paper. I want to remember that letter - it was all of one evening: Oh guy, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you! I think of you the first thing in the morning, the last thing at night, and in between whenever I'm feeling especially warm, and dreamy, and lonesome. Reiner I sort of like being lonely now, because then you are always here, and very warm, and I can feel your arm going around me, and I can lean against the staccato, emphatic beating of your heart, and then I think I love you, as much as I am able to. I'm fifteen, Reiner, and I can't possibly know what love is. Still, I do know that you are the most complete thought I have, and that when I kiss you, or lean my cheek against your shoulder, I am more entirely content than I ever have been, and that this is a many splendored thing You, Reiner, are so much to me - you are my assurance and my reassurance, my smile and my wistful moment, my first love. But this thing puzzles me. how can I, among all the laughing, pretty girls you know, be the most wonderful thing that has every happened to you? It is a hard thing to believe. Reiner, you are my first romance. Even this will not be for ever, my friend, not even for much longer. One day you will find that Love is only a word again, and you will know that this is the end, and I will know. But you will remember me, and I will not forget you. Not for a long time. August Ninth Day 1 - Tuesday The rows of trees on both sides of the sun splattered street were gracious and cool. The street itself was gloved in heat and silence, but there was an aura, very distinct, of the freshness of a neat street with many people belonging to it. Our car, under a young tree, was shaded - expectantly waiting while people, Mr and Mrs Whilms, said a few last good-byes to Dave and Martha. My waiting was more anxious than expectant tho' because of the phone call I had made a few minutes before - (a phone call made with shaking fingers and a thrumming heart in the apartment above Martha's) Reiner had said he'd come, just as soon as possible, so I paced that sidewalk, watching and listening. I was just saying "Martha, if somebody comes to see me, could you tell him I had to - Oh, there he is!" and a grey car, not new, slid noiselessly, at least to me - against the curb. Reiner was standing on the pavement before I got to him, I noticed that he was wearing the tan jacket he wore when he kissed me, two - or is it three? - weeks ago, and that his hair had been slicked down in a hurry. We looked at each other smilingly, said a few unimportant sentences - generalities that are so useful occaisionally. When I introduced him to Verna, it was gratifying to notice that he hardly transferred his eyes to her face long enough to be polite before he looked back at me. I thought of the way his mother had sounded when she said "Yes, he is. Just a moment" into the telephone - polite but warm, and lightly "accented." And then I had to leave again. My two minutes were over. Reiner stood out in the street watching the car until we turned the corner. The whole day had been hot, but enchanted. We left Grande Prairie to go to camp in Okotoks at about 10:30 AM on Tuesday - a whole day earlier than we had planned on. With us was Elizabeth Friesen, exited about the baby girl she was getting from the welfare in Edmonton. At Valleyview we stopped for a hamburger. Across the counter was a boy. His face came down to a point at the chin, directly under a wistful half-grin, and a turned up nose. His eyes were deeply blue, and solemn, but his hair was impishly curly. I smiled at him, and when he smiled back I felt so overwhelmingly female that I swung my skirt when I walked to the biff, and turned up the corners of my eyes at the mirror. We waited for a long time for those "short order" hamburgers, but even when we did finally leave, it was with reluctance on my part. That boy looked exactly like my T.A.D., and altho' I didn't say a word to him (but I did consider passing him a note saying "I wish I could meet you") he was somebody I met in my heart years ago, and would like to become re-acquainted with. So, all thru' the dullest stretch of hi-way before Whitecourt, I had someone to wonder, as well as dream about. And then there was Reiner, his shoulder almost real beside me, holding my hand where no one could see it, because they could not see into my heart. Before long, but after long miles of heat and dust, and mediocre conversation, his voice over the telephone was a real dream, stilling the beating of my heart. We left Edmonton along Groat Road, the road we had come in on. It was a road filled with facination and lonely places, because it tresspassed, serenely, thru' the lawns of elegant houses, and then hurried past the huddles of small houses to the campus. The hospital was only a small ways away, and stood solidly, blocked out in sun and shadow, while I yearned to be in it. I've never been so homesick before in my life, just from seeing a glimpse of brick and glass leaning against a blue sky. And then there was Reiner, at 10817-79th Ave. Just off 109th Street, so close to the hospital .... Mrs Whilms said "Now that she's seen him, she won't be any good for the rest of the day, aye, Verna!" as we left city limits. She was right of course, because really, he was right beside me all the way to Calgary. We spent a few hours at a hamburger stand waiting for Mr W. to return from an apointment in Red Deer. Verna and I walked, dragging Cheryl when she wasn't dragging us. Then it began to get darker, and Cheryl was sleepy, so we walked across the bridge, without her. I waved at a few trucks, to Verna's dismay. Oh it is so dampening to have someone walking with you who is very proper. Then we sat on an outside table, and gabbed, mainly giggled, while watching the people. A boy on a motor bike blopped [?] slowly by - "That's a neat little buggy," I said to Verna. He circled and slowed in front of us again. "Did you say something?" he asked. I was so off guard that I just said, inanely "No ..!" What should I have said" If I'd been on my toes I would have said "No, but I'm going to now" and started a confab. Aw Phooey! The lights of north Calgary came into view at almost midnight, and before we'd even gotten properly into town, the car was parked in the gravelly driveway of a lovely house on a sumptious street, and we were in the down-stairs suite belonging to the W's. We slept on the couch in the utility room, with the city hum nearby on the other side of the concrete wall, and with the ticking of my clock under my ear. At intervals, after we'd turned off the light, the automatic heat regulater started up, and buzzed until we were sleeping. And there was Calgary and night all around. DAY 2 - Wednesday This day, when seen from the end, was long in experience, but short in time. The first Eventure happened just after I got up, and the last, just before I got home. I met people. Cheryl woke me "early", in fact, at 8 AM! Verna stayed in bed while I slid into my skirt and the rest, combed my wig, and tip-toed up the stairs. The whole street was empty of people, but full of sights, and sounds, and smells of them, as well as morning. I walked to the end of the block, turned a corner, and discovered a magnificant view of down-town Calgary from the top of a high hill. The houses along this block all sat elegantly on their manacured lawns in brilliant patches of floral color, and their blind-lidded windows reflected morning seen over a steeply sloped incline to the next alley. I leaned on the rusty frayed cable on the edge of the slope, and when I saw the giganticness of the General Hospital, the precise lines of trees along a far avenue, and the haze-smeared morning sky, I felt that this too was my valley, as are all valleys I have known, and that this was my city, as are all cities whose tempo has been found in my rememberance. Below me, a man was bending over his back yard hobby. He looked up at me. "Good morning!" I shouted down to him. "It's a beautiful day!" he called back, and his friendliness gave me a smile. "It certainly is" I answered, and sliding under the cable, began sauntering down to him. I talked to him for, perhaps, fifteen friendly moments, and then scrambled up again, and walked slowly back to 819-9th Avenue for breakfast. Verna was up, and so was everybody else. Breakfast was gay, and everyone was busy making plans. Mrs W. was going to wash clothes, and we planned to help, then go to the zoo, and down town later. About mid-morning, the wash was finished. I had been sitting on the lawn, enjoying the wonderful warmth of the sun on my bare feet. The sprinkler was on, and tossed me a fistful of coolness every rotation. I had stuck my feet under the water to cool them, and ignoring, or at least overcoming, my self consciousness about my feet when they are bare, I walked across the lawn and over the street to the man who was sweeping up his grass clippings on the opposite lawn. "Hello," I said "Isn't it a beautiful day?" "Too hot," he grunted. "Anyway, this is a very nice city" I told him later. "Too many people!" This time he positively snorted. "Don't you like people?" I asked hopefully. "Not much" he said briefly. I think he meant "no!" Undaunted, I remarked again, "You have a very nice lawn" by way of a subject change. I wasn't much surprised when he answered again "Too much work"! Then abruptly he asked, "What happened to your foot?" I cringed inwardly, but not as badly as I would have if this had not been Calgary on an entrancing Wednesday morning. I wandered back for dinner then, and after the ice cream, packed my purse for the big afternoon. We rode to the Park enterance. A swinging bridge swung from sturdy cables, and disappointingly, didn't sway! V and I stood on it for a while - two men, young men, walked over it, and rocked it, grinning myschievously at us. I grinned back. We looked thru' the zoo, which was too much like all zoos to spend any time on, and wandered. There was an old man sitting on a park bench, lonely and shaded. I wanted to take a picture, but the light wasn't right, and Verna would have been SO embarressed, and anyway, 2 bare-kneed, plumpish women sat beside him just after I noticed him. At the peacock pen, a big male fanned out his tail for a flock of chattering, pengion-like nuns. A boy walked into the cage, feeding them. When someone asked for a feather, I said "Could we have one too please?" so he handed out 3 big beautiful ones, the prettiest ones there! Walking thru' the gardens we stopped to look at relics and dinosour models. Some small ones were penned up, but they looked so perfect for posing beside, so I approached a workman, and with the nicest smile I could manage, I asked him, "Could we just walk in there to take a picture?" "Well," he answered with little hezitation, "we're not supposed to let you but I guess it's all right." So we took a snap of Verna beside a little beast, and smiled (at least I did) at all the people passing on the other side of the wire fence! That's about all for the Zoo - it was too planned to be interesting as what had happened earlier that morning. Verna and I walked. For blocks and blocks. I waved at a man on a scaffold cleaning pigeon droppings from the elaborate façade of an imposing school. Verna was embarrassed. I looked at the houses, they all had personalities, and guessed about the people who lived in them. Actually, there were hardly any people around. A dome that looked like a jello mold rose from a Greek Catholic Church just on the back of a high hill. Behind it were two people raking grass. almost, I could see them raking grass in the meadows of their native European country. I called out "Hello!" to them, I remember, but they didn't even look up. We, Verna and I, took a sandy path down to the next alley. I remember tramping over a heap of trampled corn stalks in the earthy road between those tiny back yards. The pavement, when we reached it, was hotter. My impressions of that morning were clearly detailed in some places but when I try to put that overwhelming Calgaric sensation into words, the edges seem to become blurred. The street was hot; our feet were sore. We passed a brown house with a sagging front veranda. "Hi Baby!" called a voice as brown and sagging as the house. Almost hidden by a screen, an old man was watching the street. I smiled at him, and waved. Verna gigglingly told everyone about it later. Only a few houses further, a lot of little boys - freckles, tee-shirts, blue jeans, and sneakers - were in a huddle under a tree that was loaded down by small green balls on every branch. "Apples!" I exclaimed. One little guy shouted after us, "Want some?!" "Sure!" I said. He hurled one, with all his strength. It hit the sidewalk ahead of us, bounced, and rolled into the gutter. "Want more?" he yelled. "Okay" I said. Another small green missle whizzed by, and then another. That small boy puzzled me .... As we got nearer the hospital, and I could see into the windows, I began to feel nostalgic again. We walked around it, carefully picking our way thru' the gravel. Beside it was a construction job, and then a beautiful tall building. In front of it was a car with two people in it, who were talking to a pretty girl on the curb. I think it was the nurses residence. It was a long way home. There was a tiny store on the corner, we walked into it. Verna got three plums, I got a ginger ale. Verna's nose for direction got us to the house again with only half a search. Now, after seeing the zoo, we were standing on 9th Avenue, looking for our bus. "West Calgary" Mrs. Willms had said. But after a long time, we decided that there was no such thing, and took another one to Centre Street. I had a new Albertan, advertized as having a Calgary map in it. And there it was - the Bay, right ahead of us. We got off then. The Bay was big, and pillared. We walked in, and started riding esculator up. We were to meet Melita at 5. There was a lot of time left. Up on fifth floor was an almost deserted furniture department. For a while we sat on chairs. There was some exquisite furniture, all of it was nice. So I daydreamed, Verna walked. It was dismaying to see that my hair had wilted from too much sprinkler exposure, and was almost flat on top. I felt as tho' I had to fix it, so I stopped by a pink covered bed with a dust catcher "roof" above it, and combed my hair behind the mirror. Then we went down to the hat section and began to try them on. There were ridiculous ones - the only ones I look good in are the big, wide brimmed ones. I even took a picture of us, in one of the mirrors. Once, I tried on a hat that belonged to someone who was buying a hat! There was a pile of rugs, deep and furry and pink, that was perfect for a dreaming afternoon. And downstairs, there was a sale of perfume, French and otherwise, for 50 cents a bottle. I was definitely tempted, but Verna hurried me past it. We admired the lovely shag sweaters for a long, wistful, while. Downstairs, we tried on shoes, looked at fabulously priced negligees, almost got some 50 cent half slips. A pile of cheap jewelry attracted us too. A long table was heaped up with junk jewels that looked just right for souvenirs. I was indecisive for a while, then got a pair of big, gold, question-mark earrings. It was raining when we went outside to wait for Melita, just a drizzling rain, but wet. Finally M came out of one of the doors, and was greeted enthusiastically by a hug from Verna. We started walking down the street, toward supper. The restaurant was of the "Blue Willow" type: dim pink lighting, music, landscape paintings on the walls, pretty girls, interesting people .... We ordered a chicken supper with soup. It came, after a while, and was so-so. I ordered a Coke for dessert, but when V and M asked for banana splits, I wished I had too. After, we cleaned up in the washroom. I put on my earrings, and some of M's lipstick - a very cute color! We rode the buses for a while, on our way to Melita's room. It was raining, still. Suddenly I remembered that I forgot my shopping bag with our peacock feathers in it. Later when we went back, it wasn't there. The proprietor got a funny look on his face when we told him what was in it. Melita's room was cute, small, but modern. Just a girl's room with oodles of clothes, pictures, records, fuzzy animals, and junk. When she had changed, we went back out to catch another bus, but got a ride with her landlady and hubby. Standing on the corner, waiting for the right bus, we were very be-wistled at. Finally, we did catch the bus with Melita's favorite driver on it. He was cute, personable, and teasy. We gabbed about a hundred-odd things. He said his mother called him "Waynie" so "Waynie" he'll be as long as I'll remember him. We rode with him, around and over the bridge a few times, then transferred to get back to our "hotel". We had an awful time getting there, but, even tho' we couldn't remember our address, they told us how to get there because of the landmarks (Stanley Jones' School) It was the Renfrew Bus. The guy was very helpful - even stopped right across from Willms' house for us. We were back, and tired. Mrs W let us in, and after a lot of gab, we went to bed, still talking about Waynie and the mad ride we'd had with him when he started blowing his horn, about the Indian woman we'd seen having her blouse ripped off, (Verna said the guy had "raped" her!) and about our peacock feathers It was a marvellously unorthodox day. DAY THREE - Thursday At nearly 6:30 A.M. we woke up - time to go, almost. Mr. Wilmms wanted to leave at Seven. It was a grey day, and there was a decidedly damp feeling in the air. Breakfast and packing were fast - We went to church first, picked up books - it was raining now - and then continued. On Center street, we stopped for a light. Bam! Verna gave a little yell, I jumped, and Mr Willms craned his neck - a car had bumped into us, oh just a little bump - from behind. Just a little dent. But Verna yakked about that for a long time too - dear me! The Okotokes road was wet and slick, and short. Okotokes itself was small, at the bottom of a hill, and rather pretty. Around a few corners, up a rutty road, and camp! Just a lot of boys playing ball out on a long stretch of grass, and girls in pairs wandering around disconsolately. Before long, we were in our cabin with two other girls, gabbing to catch up on history and gathering impressions. Helen Heidebrecht was someone who facinated me in a body way, if you know how I mean that. She was slim, lean hipped, and brown, with hard, brown legs, suple feet in thongs, and a low, firm bustline. Her eyes were very blue in her brown face, and her hair was blond, but not in a fluffy way. I liked her at first. Her best friend was plump, white faced, sleek haired and gossipy. Nettie Berg, our cabin leader, seemed incongruously meek in the bondining [?], bantering, camp atmosphere. She seldom laughed, read her bible often, and spoke always gently. When we were naughty, her eyes reproached us almost sadly, but she never raised her voice. Our first get togeather meeting impressed me with the ability to sing that those kids had. Oh, it was exilarating! After cocoa, we tramped out to our fireside site - tramped is the right word too, because it was a long ways. But worth it. When the fire is strangely powered with sorcery, as it always is - and the sparks fly high into a dark sky, and a few rain drops fall onto your nose while the singing of people who are friends rises with the crackling flames, almost you feel enchanted too. Almost as tho' you were in league with fire and wind and wild music. Strange. It was one of those experiences. DAY FOUR - Friday Even under all our blankets Verna and I had been cold that night, and the sky promised rain all the rest of the day but we were determined to have a zowie day, even tho' it poured like a lawn sprinkler gone beserk. This day was a day of emerging personalities - We looked over the boys, wondering who and if, any would become friends of ours. We scrutinized the girls - giving them mental ratings on clothes, face, figure, and friendliness while they rated us. All were Mennonites - but in spite of that there were some pretty ones. Some I met in the meal-line, some across a table, some at the biff, and some just loafing. And I kept score too, to find out people's names. The girls I especially noted: Edith and Anne Somebody: dressed glamorously, used makeup quite a bit. Edith was not so outstanding, but Anne, who was the prettiest girl there, had such an open warm smile that I didn't feel the usual awe that a pretty girl gives me. Trudy Martins: Anne was prettier, but Trudy was loveliest. She had a curvy, feminine figure, large dark eyes and dark hair with a body page-boy. She sang a solo the first night. I was enthralled Her voice was not of the heavy soprano type, but a soft warm voice that was all girl, and beautiful. she was a person I admired afar for the most part. but I certainly did admire. Carol Martins - a kittenish browneyed blond with fluffy hair and a shy approach. Dora Somebody: a tomboy type - short hair, small breasted, wide eyed, wide mouthed, hoyden. She and I got along terrifically well - we were gabbing in their cabin one day. She was talking about her guy - I was talking about mine. Hers is 300 miles away - you know where mine is. Her guy's birthday is in November, so's mine!! "Hey!" yelled Bushy, "Maybe he's the same guy!" But I guess not Martha: tall, graceful, a beautiful figure, naturally wavy, unruly hair, freckles, a grey eyed earnest gaze, a boyish mouth. A quiet girl too, who was very serious about her Christianity. She made Helen and a few other girls look cheap Laurie: a gal from #2 cabin too. A pert blond pony tale, a gamin smile, just a few freckles, wide pixie eyes, a siren figure - she was scared of bugs, of mice, but not of boys, whom she liked. Cute. The boys were either cute or not cute in our book. Cute, were: Richard Thiessen - cocky, handsome, dark, an H.D. type - I didn't like him very well, even tho' we were on quipping terms with each other before long. Dave Goertz: tagged "3rd Base", and later "Shadow" by us - but that's getting ahead of myself .... Short, glasses, blond brush cut, squeaky voice, but cute. He looked at me quite often - I was flattered. George Thiessen: not tall, slim, curly dark hair, tanned, definitely cute. His smile enchanted me right from the beginning. It was actually a grin. Whenever he wanted to smile about something, or someone, his mouth didn't move - but then the corners went straight up. I was delighted! More about him later. "Cedar" - what his real name was, I don't know. Not really good looking Brainy, and somehow appealing to me. When I smiled at him the first day, he smiled back Once when he was sitting behind us at a service, I discovered that he has a simply luscious bass. He was the guy I most wanted to meet But I didn't. Phooey! Maybe next year? That night we had another fire side in the form of a weiner roast. On the way, I was late, and somehow missed Verna. Anyway, I was plodding along all by myself. Mr Abe Konrad said "You look lonesome!" "Do I?" I wasn't, not really. Then I noticed Third Base ahead of me, and fixed it so I'd be in talking distance. Then somehow I got ahead of him - I wanted a knife to sharpen my stick, so I took the plunge and asked him if he had one - he said no. "Howcome?" I asked "Here you guys are at camp and you haven't even got a knife!" "I don't carry such dangerous weapons!" he protested amiably. "No blackjacks? No revolvers? No brass knuckles?" I asked. We were all set for a good confab when in rushed Verna. And I never realized that she was so clever! I could have taken notes. I should have, for that matter. But from then on, she was the helpless creature who couldn't skip rocks, and who blunderingly broke her stick so that he could offer her his. And from that moment he was her adhesive, all day shadow (should I have said "sucker"?) He even wanted her to sneak out with him that night ....! It was a beautiful moonlit night too - I hated to go to bed. Everything inside me rebelled against staying behind walls - I couldn't stay in, so, thinking I might get a long exposure, I grabbed my camera case and headed down the trail to the biff. The trail went down, steeply, into a gully, where a phosphorescent trickle of silver and shadow glimmered. The moon, like a japanese lantern, was tied onto the branches of a tall tree across the gully, and strengthened the outline of every black shadow against the sky. Even the blades of the tall grass, were made strange and beautiful by the atmosphere of complete etherealness that touched even me. I couldn't get an angle, but crouched down in the grass, behind the bushes, near to voices but far from eyes, I developed a perfectly exposed mind picture that won't need to be kept in any album. Everything in me becomes restless on a night like that - I yearned for Reiner, for just company, but drank in solitude. Why is this, and why am I like this? [missing pages] Uncle Bill, Aunt Alice, and the cousins came to see us. August 11 W Epps are staying at Bacsteads. August 12 Watched the leaves down by the creek during a quiet ending to a hectically busy day. Washed clothes. Gramp and Gran are coming Tues or Monday!
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