Vagabond son

They sat together holding hands, which was uncommon for them. Physical affection had never been part of their mother-daughter bond. On this particular afternoon, however, they connected in a single anxiety.

Vivian, the daughter, was planning to marry. The wedding would be a simple affair. After all, this was the Depression. While there was income, there wasn’t much of it. Besides, a simple wedding was more in line with Vivian’s and her fiancé Ed’s personalities. Still, she wanted her only brother present, but Dale had become difficult to track.

For two years, he had been “riding the rails,” as folks said, living a vagabond life. While both women worried about him and his safety, up until now they were rarely terrified.

Yet, they had not heard from him in just over two months after hearing consistently once per month. His letters were simple, but clear. He was in good health. He had occasional work that kept him from going hungry. He had made several friends, and they all looked out for one another. He was headed to a different place and would report in again.

Although simple, these letters pacified them. As both his mother and sister were also living somewhat unsettled lives, he sent them to Vivian via their father’s address. During this period, Leta had moved twice, and Vivian was working as a housekeeper for a wealthy family that altered between two different locations.

Their apprehension was initiated by a serious train accident that occurred in Nebraska. According to Dale’s most recent letter from Iowa, Nebraska was his next destination. The news report stated that a large freight train with several boxcars of illegal riders had struck a truck carrying oil, resulting in a large explosion and fire. Nearly three dozen riders had been killed or injured. Having not heard from Dale for such a long time led them to consider that he may have been one of those injured or worse.

After they learned of the accident, Vivian wrote to the authorities and sent a photograph of her brother for identification. This initiated a two-week period of uncertainty that rose to anxiety when they were informed a telegram had arrived. While the women waited, Vivian’s fiancé had gone to Western Union to retrieve it.

The worry was weighing heavily on Leta. While Vivian could not be sure, it appeared as though her mother’s hair was becoming grayer as the minutes passed. She had not slept much for a few days, and the skin below her eyes began to darken and sag. Even the bright blue of her irises seemed to darken. The mother was becoming desperate for news.

Just then they heard the door open. Leta gripped Vivian’s hand tightly, and they both stiffened. They heard heavy footsteps on the wooden floor and leaned toward the short hallway. The light behind the male figure obscured him. He was smaller in stature than Ed, which confused them. He turned slightly out of the sun, and said in his flat nasal voice, “Mom.”