Passing the Time

Leta never counted them--the number of beers that she drank in an evening or afternoon. She would buy a case of 12 bottles, store them in her refrigerator, and then enjoy them, one at a time, until she no longer was thirsty, or she felt comfortable. She would sit on the corner of her sofa, enjoy the beer and smoke her Pall Malls.

Somehow the time flew by. She liked that. If it was still early enough, if she started her repast in the afternoon and she was hungry, she would prepare dinner for herself.  Usually this was something simple. Unless she had a craving for a roast or steak, she would eat some soup and crackers or even eggs. When she was younger, if anyone had told her that she would one day eat eggs for supper, she would have scoffed. After all, eggs were a breakfast food. Here she was now, however, a widow living alone who wanted something quick and easy for supper, dining on eggs and toast at six in the evening, or sometimes later, depending on when she became hungry—or if she became hungry. Many times she simply went to bed. Some nights she would simply pull the afghan over her and sleep on the sofa.

At least once a month, she made meatloaf. It was a recipe that she had for a long time. She didn’t remember where she acquired it, but she thought it was a delicious. The recipe called for a combination of ground beef and pork. Her daughter Vivian made the recipe frequently, because her husband liked it very much. She would make a full loaf, enough for a family, and then have meatloaf sandwiches or reheat a piece with gravy for a few days afterward. Some nights she would just have two pieces of toast and jam. She liked toast. She could eat toast at any time of day. She still made her own jam—raspberry or peach.

This was how she spent her days as an older widow with time on her hands. But she wasn’t a widow exactly. While she was the widow of two men—Robert Fields and her beloved Albert Mohr—she had actually divorced her most recent husband. His name was Claud Bassett, and she could hardly bring herself to say it. He was a devilish human being, who lied to her over and over again, stole money from her and brought her to this. She was living in a small apartment, because that was all she could afford. When they married, she was the widow of Bob Fields, who had a decent savings, but that was all gone now. The villain she could not name drank and gambled it all away. Eventually, she would need to acquire some form of employment, simply to support herself.

She also wasn’t old exactly, although she thought of herself as old—nearly 60 years, but she was still the youngest of six children, all but one of whom were still alive. Her oldest brother Aaron had died of cancer only a few years earlier, and his wife Florence, her best friend, had remarried. This situation gradually reduced their previously almost daily communications.

In the meantime, this was how she was biding her time. This was an uneasy way of living for her.

Still, at this state in life, Leta was not sure where she was headed next.  She wasn’t entirely alone. She spent time with her daughter and son, both married with families. She spent time with her sisters Nellie and Louise who lived nearby. She went to church on Sundays and helped with funerals or other occasions. However, she spent many days drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and passing the time.

Generosity, part two

It was a bright November afternoon. Leta was living in an apartment in West Toledo, near the University. She had lived there for the two years after her husband Richard Eckman passed away. Spending so much time alone, she enjoyed visitors—her children and grandchildren, in particular. This time, her grandson Alan, a senior in high school, stopped by. She made a batch of raisin-filled cookies earlier that day, and he was the first to enjoy them.

Alan was a purposeful young man, so Leta knew that he wasn’t merely paying her a social visit. He wanted something. He was also a little awkward, so she waited for him to reveal the reason for his visit.

“I need to buy a car,” he told her. He was sitting at the kitchen table, having just devoured two of the cookies. She was standing with her back to him, fetching two more. When she turned to face him, he quickly turned away.

“I’m listening,” she said, sliding the plate with two more cookies toward him.

“I have an opportunity for a new job, to start in a couple of weeks,” he began. “But I don’t have no way to get there.”

“What car are you driving now?” she inquired.

“Ma’s,” he answered. She lets me borrow it, but I couldn’t every day. She needs it.”

“So you want one of your own,” she said.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said. “This way I’ll be able to get back and forth to work without trouble anyone, and visit my friends and other stuff. I’ll be able to pay for the gas, insurance and upkeep from the money I make. I just don’t have the money to buy one.”

She crossed her arms. She did not mean to make her grandson squirm. In fact, he had become both earnest and nervous, neglecting the cookies she had just given him. This assured her that he was serious about his need.

“And pay you back,” he added. “That would be the first thing.”

“I am thinking you have a car in mind already?” she inquired.

“Yes,” he answered. “Dad has a friend at work who is trying to sell his. It’s a good car, needs a little work, but not much. A good price.”

“How much do you need?” she asked.

He swallowed hard. This would be the part he was most nervous about. The amount always was. She knew that from experience.

He told her and then waited for her response.

“I’ll be right back,” she said and left the room. Two minutes later, she returned and handed him a check in the full amount.

“Grandma?”

“You’ll need to pay me back, now,” she said. “This isn’t a gift. It’s a loan.”

“Yes, yes, of course!” he gasped, standing.

She stepped back before he could hug her.

“But this,” she said, reaching into her apron pocket and handing him a small roll of currency, “this is for you. Let’s call it gas money.”

“Grandma!” he cheered. Then he hugged her, “Thank you so much!”

She smiled lovingly and then grew firm. “I don’t want to hear that you used this money frivolously. It’s for gas or car repairs or whatever you need to keep up that car, do you hear me?”

“Oh yes!” he cried and hugged her again.

This is, she thought, how Grandma’s are supposed to be.

Generosity, part one

Leta loved to be generous. She had spent so many of her years struggling financially that once she had arrived at a state of comfort, she wanted to assist others to be so. She had lived through the financial stresses after the death of her beloved Albert in 1927, the monetary instability of being married to Ora Freeman, the persistent poverty after divorcing Leech Hoose, the Great Depression, and the quick dwindling of her finances during her unhappy marriage to Claud Bassett. She had scrimped and sacrificed and saved. She had gone hungry. She had lost opportunities because she did not have the funds to enjoy them. She had lived a long time.

Finally, when she was in her sixties, she had achieved a financial state in which she not only could completely take care of her own needs, but also enjoy some luxuries. More heartwarming to her was that she could financially assist her grandchildren. Her children were financially secure and did not need her support. Her daughter Vivian and son-in-law Edward were more than solvent. They owned their own home. Ed had a good job as an electrical engineer. Ed had even invested in the stock market. He was so smart with his investments that he also managed some of hers. Her son Dale and his wife Kate were also money-conscious. Dale had worked for the same automotive company for decades. He earned a good salary. He and his wife Kate owned their own house, took family vacations, and had savings. Both of her children were saving for retirement. Her son and son-in-law purchased new cars every four years or so—comfortable sedans. They were secure.

In 1960, her oldest grandchild Donald married. He was too young. He was going to college. He was working. A wife would interfere with this path. However, he met a wonderful girl—beautiful, friendly, proper and poor. For the wedding, her mother prepared all of the food, a herculean task for 200 guests. Leta gave the newlyweds a sizable wedding gift. She wanted the young couple to use the money to remain stable while Don finished his schooling, but almost a year to the day later, the baby came. Up until then her granddaughter-in-law had been working, but a baby changes everything. The mother stayed home, and Leta’s grandson temporarily left college and went to work to support his family. Leta gave them a big financial gift for the baby, and her granddaughter-in-law immediately opened a savings account for the boy.

In 1962, her second grandchild Connie married. Again, Leta believed that she was too young, only 19 years old. But she was pleased to be able to make a generous financial gift to the newlyweds. Connie had her first child in 1963, and Leta made a financial gift for the baby.

When he was seventeen years old, her grandson Alan paid her a visit. She was living in an apartment near the University of Toledo. He was in his senior year of high school and just finished the football season. He was wearing his letter jacket, a sign of prestige in his small suburban town, especially since his team was its league championship that year.

“I see you’ve got your jacket on,” Leta noted.

Alan stood up a little bit straighter. He liked to have others notice.

“Yep,” he acknowledged proudly. “We’re the champs.”

They sat at the kitchen table, and she gave him a couple of freshly made raisin cookies.

“I almost made a pie today,” she said, “but something told me to make cookies instead.”

“And here I am! Thanks, Grandma.”

“How are your dad and mom?” Leta inquired.

“Doing good,” he said as he nearly swallowed the first cookie whole.

“And your new niece?”

“Cute as a button,” he answered. Alan’s older sister Connie had recently given birth to her second child.

“I’d sure like to see that baby again.”

“Connie doesn’t really go anywhere,” Alan explained. “She and her husband Ed only have one car, and he works a lot.”

Leta sipped her coffee. Alan finished his two cookies and milk.

“Would you like another one?” she asked when he finished. His face it up.

“Yes, please,” he said.

She stood, took the plate she had given him and went to the counter.

“Grandma,” he said once her back was turned. “I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

“I need to buy a car.”

To be continued.

First Grandchild, part two

Vivian had just given birth to the first grandchild in both her and her husband’s families. Both Vivian and Ed were the older of two children. Vivian was three years older than her brother Dale, who, although he was 23 years old, he was not even dating a particular girl. Ed’s sister Doris was still in high school. Consequently, the birth of Donald was a big event in the family, and everyone doted on him and Vivian, who was exhausted from the pregnancy, the labor and the delivery.

It was a strenuous experience for Vivian, whose petite frame had gained nearly 50 pounds during her pregnancy. She had a lengthy period of morning sickness, nearly six months. On occasion, her bladder would release before she realized it. The leakage was always minimal, but the expectation that it could happen at any time made her less willing to leave the house because of the potential embarrassment. She also experienced gingivitis and hemorrhoids. In the last month, she developed toxemia, which resulted in such swelling and tenderness in her legs and ankles that she had difficulty standing.

In her last six weeks, beginning in December, Vivian spent most of her time sitting in an easy chair, sipping beer to help her body relax and doing needlework. While her swollen fingers made the precise stitching that she liked difficult, she was skilled enough to manage. She had made several gowns for the baby. When she could not complete the final, most delicate details, Leta finished them for her. Vivian was in labor for nearly twenty hours, and Donald Edward was born on January 17, 1939.

Vivian and her healthy baby boy arrived home from the hospital five days later. It was a cold afternoon, and Ed only worked half the day before picking them up. Ed knew that Vivian was tired, and he asked his parents and Vivian’s parents to give them a day or two before stopping in. All of them had already made many trips to the hospital to visit. Vivian was very sore and swollen. Ed made sure that the walk was clear of snow and ice, so she would not slip, and then he escorted her up the walk to make sure she remained steady. She, naturally, was holding the well-bundled baby in her arms.

The minute she walked in the door of her own house, Vivian’s energy left her, and she immediately sat down in her new rocking chair—a gift from an unidentified relative or friend.

“Oh, Ed,” she said after he brought the rest of their things in from the car, “we really need to find out where this rocking chair came from. I hate not knowing, and I want to be sure that there wasn’t some mistake.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I agree.”

Life, however, postponed their intentions. A new baby, Ed’s work and Vivian’s recovery all took time. Vivian’s focus was on the baby, and the housekeeping chores continued to fall on her mother Leta and Ed’s sister Doris. Two days a week for the first three months, Leta’s husband Bob brought her to Vivian’s on his way to work. She spent the day cleaning, doing laundry, cooking, holding the baby and allowing Vivian to rest.

These were precious times to Leta. Although she had spent time with her daughter over the past several years, the wounds from abandoning her daughter and her inconstancy during many years of her daughter’s life were still apparent. While she was a caring and forgiving woman, Vivian had remained quiet and aloof, protecting herself from further hurt and disappointment. But, she realized, she needed help, and turned to her mother. On Sunday, they went to church together, and Leta had her daughter’s family to her house for Sunday dinner. Ed was quiet, but grateful. If he still bore any dislike toward her, he stopped expressing it. Besides, Ed and Bob were wonderful friends.

Leta’s visits went on for three months until Vivian was able to manage all of her household responsibilities. Don was mostly sleeping through the night, and Vivian began to look and feel better. She had gradually resumed all of her household responsibilities. While Leta was disappointed that she was no longer needed to spend every day with her daughter and felt some uncertainty about old feelings returning, she still remained close, spoke to Vivian daily on the telephone, and visited one evening per week.

Donald was baptized just before Easter. Ed’s sister and Vivian’s brother were the godparents. Ed’s parents hosted a family luncheon afterward, and for the first time in several years, Vivian’s uncle Walter, her father’s younger brother, came with his family. Although they still lived in Ohio, Walter and his wife were far enough away that they only visited on occasion. This was their first time seeing the baby. During the course of the afternoon, while he was catching up with Ed, Walter asked about a special gift.

“How is that rocking chair working out, Ed?” he inquired.

Ed slapped himself on the forehead.

“You sent the rocking chair?” Ed asked loudly.

“You didn’t know?” Walter said.

“We asked everyone, and no one knew.”

“It didn’t have a gift card?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, no wonder, Vivian never thanked us!” Walter gasped with some relief. “We both thought that was unlike her, but then we also knew that babies were a lot of work and things get away from a person.”

“Well, let me thank you now,” Ed said, offering his hand, which Walter took.

“You’re very welcome,” Walter said, and without letting go of Ed’s hand, he pulled the younger man into the living room, calling for his wife.

A short time later, Leta found herself alone with Walter. For many years, the two had avoided each other. What could they possibly talk about? Leta had devastated and divorced Walter’s brother Ralph. When she abandoned her children several years after that, the disrespect intensified. But on this day, everyone was in a generous and forgiving temperament.

“Thank you for the rocking chair, Walter,” Leta said.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “We got one for Margery when our first child was born. She used to sit and rock the baby for hours. It was a great help.”

“It’s a wonderful gift. Vivian loves it. And so does Don.”

“I’m glad.”

There was a long pause. Then Walter spoke once gain:

“That’s some girl you got there, Leta, and a great little grandson.”

“I know,” she agreed.

First Grandchild, part one

The excitement for the first grandchild in both Vivian and Ed’s families mounted for everyone but Vivian. Both grandmothers-to-be—Leta and Anna spent their time making baby clothes and linens, making sure that Vivian was well fed and not overworking herself, and just being a flutter of excitement. As for Vivian, she was uncomfortable. Her ankles were swollen, her back ached, and her fingers grew so thick that her wedding ring dug into the skin. The smell of coffee made her nauseous. Some evenings her legs ached. The doctor urged her to stay off her feet as much as possible, but she protested. She had a husband to feed, a house to keep clean, and preparations. How could see possibly sit in her new rocking chair with her feet propped up on a footstool all day?

The rocking chair was a surprise gift. In early December 1938, a delivery truck parked on the street in front of the duplex. Ed was at work, and Vivian was resting with a cup of tea in hand. She saw it through the front window of the duplex where they were living. There weren’t many delivery trucks on Dearborn Avenue, mostly because there were only eight houses with a farm at the end of the street. She could only see the cab of the vehicle, but she could hear that something was being unloaded. Then there was quiet, so her mind returned to her own thoughts.

This was interrupted by a strong tap at the front door. “Just a minute,” she called, because it took her nearly a minute to stand and make her way to the door. When she opened it, the deliveryman was there with a rocking chair beside him.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Are you Mrs. Edward Mextaker?” the fellow asked, unsuccessfully reading the name on his delivery order form.

“Yes, I am,” she answered, not bothering to correct him. It was common for persons to mispronounce their heavily German last name.

“I have something for you,” he said, and gestured to the rocking chair.

“But I didn’t order that,” she protested.

He looked at his order form, and showed her. “It says right here to deliver this to you, ma’am.”

“Where did it come from?”

He shrugged his shoulder. “Don’t know, ma’am. I just delivers ‘em. Now, where do you want it?”

“There’s no tag or card or note?” she asked.

“I don’t got one, and I don’t see one attached to the rocker,” he said, growing impatient. “I got more deliveries to make, ma’am. Where do you want this?”

She held the door, and he placed the rocking chair in a nearly empty spot in the living room. Then she signed the receipt, and he exited, leaving her to ponder who would have sent her the piece of furniture. It was very sturdy and looked inviting, but she feared that if she sat in it, she would not be able to get out. The gift could not have come from her husband Ed. He would have told her.

She wondered all day, and even got her husband to wondering when he returned home for the evening. After they had eaten, she telephoned her mother, who stated that she had not sent the rocking chair. Then Vivian telephoned her father, but he had not sent it either, nor had her grandparents with whom he lived. As they were living on the same street as Ed’s parents, he went to their house, learning that they had not sent the chair either.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Vivian said as they were preparing to retire for the night. “Who could have sent this? Do you think it’s a mistake?”

“I do agree it’s strange,” Ed agreed, “but I’m sure we’ll find out at some point where it came from.”

By Christmas, they had still not learned the identity of the angel who had given Vivian the rocking chair, although she still had not used it. She had tried twice to sit in it, but found that with her swollen legs, large belly and weakened balance that she could not maneuver out of it very well, even by rocking herself to standing. The doctor instructed her to remain as quiet as possible. While she had not gone into premature labor, she did have some bleeding and stomach pains.

She spent much of her days doing needlework, which she could manage, even with swollen fingers. During the week, Ed’s mother Anna cooked for them and his teenage sister Doris helped keep the house clean. On the weekend, Vivian’s mother Leta cooked and cleaned house.

By the time the baby arrived on January 17, 1939, Vivian was ready. The delivery was strenuous, but the child arrived healthy and screaming. “It’s a boy!” the doctor announced with glee, and they named him Donald Edward. He was the first grandchild of the family.

But still no one claimed to be the giver of the rocking chair.

To be continued.