Lena Gets a Letter

At home in Iowa, Lena was saving every penny, nickel, and dime she could. About twenty hours per week, at thirty cents an hour, was what she had for her main income. Her job at the grocery in Commerce was easy enough and she had made friends with many of the customers. She liked talking with folks; it wasn’t as isolated as the farm had been. Living on the farm, she mostly just had people to talk to on Sundays at church. She really didn’t like talking on the telephone because she knew there were probably party line neighbors listening in.

Lena’s job at the attorney’s office was fewer hours, but higher pay, at forty cents an hour. He was pleased with her impressive level of literacy, and her kind of schooling was hard to find in rural Iowa those days. He didn’t want mistakes going out in his legal documents and briefs. Lena was pretty sure he had ambition to be a judge someday, and he was a very nice young man, so she was happy to lend him a leg up in the “letters and words” department. She only worked for him twice a week, for about five hours a day, but it added up in the bank.

Harley was taking the milk route on his own some days. Uncle Lynn had hurt his back when he got thrown off a horse, so he was pretty uncomfortable riding in that bumpy old truck. Harley didn’t mind at all because he got to keep all the tips those days, and he could take almost as long as he wanted to look over that Lincoln. One day, he caught himself thinking maybe he had developed an obsession with that car. He thought, “If you look up the word obsession in the dictionary, there is probably a picture of me staring at this car.” He had heard his mother use a version of that joke when she was talking to Uncle Lynn about his hired hand, Jack. Only the word next to Jack’s picture would have been “lazy.” Harley thought that was a clever way to call a person a name.

But mostly, Harley thought about the Lincoln. Mr. Ford really outdid himself when he created that car! For sure, even without knowing how or when, Harley would have one. He would buy it with cash, drive it to his parent’s farm, and give them a ride. Heck, he’d even let his dad drive it to Grimes. Harley imagined taking his folks for a Sunday drive to Des Moines, driving in luxury, all the way over to the Iowa State Capitol grounds. They could have a picnic and watch the sunset shimmer off the towering gold leaf dome. College first, then his own business, then his Lincoln; Harley had his dream.

The closer it got to school starting, the more anxious Harley became. He worried because they had not heard from Charley. Lena tried not to appear concerned or upset, but Harley knew. His parents were the closest-together married couple he’d ever seen. True, he hadn’t seen many other families besides his relatives, but he could just tell. Lena mentioned her husband every day. Only once did Harley hear her scold an imaginary Charley for not writing yet. She was washing some clothes in the washtub and he thought she was almost going to tear those clothes apart, the way she was scrubbing and scolding so hard! They were the cleanest clothes he had ever seen, for sure.

Harley also picked up handyman jobs for folks in Valley Junction, Commerce, and sometimes for the farmers out by Grimes. He’d go right up to the house or meet a man out in his own front yard and just ask the fella outright if he had any jobs that a strong young man could do to help out his mother, who was all by herself. That line always got him a little sympathy and usually a job that he would get paid a dime or a quarter for. All those little coins went into Lena’s account and hardly anything ever came out of it.

Harley was also working the milk route and helping his grandmother around her house and yard. He kept doing odd jobs for neighbors so he could tuck away some money for school shoes and books, as well as trying to keep up on his reading. It wasn’t a good day at all if he ran out of time to read. He walked the two miles to his mother’s rented house a couple of nights a week to eat dinner with her and give her news of Grandma and of Uncle Lynn and Aunt Alice.

While he was at his mother’s, he would get a chance to read his beloved Reader’s Digest. Lena would not let it leave the house. She had lost all her other copies in the fire, so the new copies, as they arrived in the mail every week, were put in a special place near the back porch, where she could grab them if there happened to be another house fire.

Lena had taught Harley well. Hard work and thrift were the lessons. Borrowing was the last resort. Just save up for what you need. Don’t go into debt. Pay all your bills on time. If it’s broken, fix it; don’t go get a new one. Buy used, if you can. Wear it out, use it up. Go without. Yea, go without was a big rule these days. Of course, Harley had everything he needed. The only thing he wanted was… well, the only two things he wanted and didn’t have were a Lincoln and his father at home. He was reminded frequently by his mother how blessed he was, and he knew it was true. But even that knowledge could not cool the burning he had inside to be successful enough to pay cash for a Lincoln. Someday.

Harley kept his eye on that Lincoln convertible. Having never told his parents about it and concealing his fascination with it from his uncle was the easy part. Wanting one like it so badly was the hard part. He had no doubt, in his mind, that he would have one someday. Not knowing for sure how he would earn the money to buy one was part of his unsettling frustration. If he only had a plan, that would make it easier to wait. He knew he would have to go to college. He knew that wealth doesn’t ever really just happen overnight. He knew that whatever he did, it would take hard work, and lots of it.

“Shoulder to the wheel,” his dad would say. His mother liked to quote the well-known British writer, Richard Whately. “He said,” Lena would remind him, “A man who gives his children a habit of industry provides for them more than by giving them fortune.” Then she would add on to it, “So get out there and show me some industry! Get on out there and get those chores done right quick!” Then she would laugh and give him a hug, as she pushed him out the back door. He had proven over his growing up years on the farm that he had industry. He was just so anxious to put his industry into some task that could earn him enough money to buy a Lincoln! School would he starting in the middle of September. He wanted to have his clothes and transportation to school all lined up. From Grandma Burt’s house he could ride the street car to Roosevelt. It was the farthest west high school in Des Moines. It was one of the largest high schools in Des Moines; only Lincoln had more students enrolled.

Kids who went to school at Roosevelt dressed differently than the ones at his country school. If Harley was going to go to school in town, he felt like he should try to dress the same as they dressed, so he didn’t stand out and wasn’t called a “farmer boy.” He was going to need some shirts with collars and some new shoes, for sure. Only poor kids wore shoes that were canvas, and not leather. Lena kept telling him that he was worrying about the wrong things. She rightly insisted that he needed to be more concerned about studying and learning than he did about shoes. Harley knew his mother was right, and he told her so every time she gave that lecture.

It didn’t help that Harley found another advertisement for a Lincoln in the Reader’s Digest one week. He looked at that picture for a long time before he turned to the Increase Your Word Power section. He wanted to cut out the photograph and keep it, but he knew his mother would be asking about it and then she would know something he didn’t want her to know. Lena would probably think that her son was unhappy with his life, but he certainly wasn’t. Harley loved the life they had on the farm. Even after several months in town, he felt awkward walking on sidewalks. Just didn’t seem right, when there was perfectly good grass right there next to it. He didn’t mind getting his shoes wet or having a little dirt or mud on them. Seemed like a waste of good concrete to him. He’d rather use the cement for a real floor in their garage.

That was Charley’s practical side coming out in Harley. He was a good son and he respected his father. He missed his father, also. Harley prayed every night that his father was safe. Stories were all over in the newspaper about fights among men who were riding the rails. There were unions getting involved and immigrants. Harley had to trust that Charley could take care of himself. They had to have money to rebuild the farmhouse, so Lena and Harley just waited and worried.

Finally, the first letter came from Charley. It had been over a month since he left. Rural Free Delivery seemed to take forever. Lena knew they got mail four times a week most weeks, which was better than the rural delivery twenty years ago, but the wait had been exhausting. Surely, there had to be a way to speed up the mail. She was grateful she didn’t have to go to Grimes to pick it up at the post office. They brought it right to a cavernous country mailbox on the old wooden post by the driveway. She had Betty check it every day, and finally she received a call that there was a letter from her beloved Charley.

The attorney she worked for let Harley drive Lena in his car out to Grimes to get the letter. He knew how torturous her wait had been. She was an important asset in his office, so it was the least he could do. Lena wasn’t just anxious to get the letter, she wanted a return address also! She had been writing a little bit of news to Charley every day. Sometimes it was just a couple of sentences, especially if she was tired, but she wanted to be ready to answer him whenever he sent her a way to reach him. She had several pages ready to go. So, it was surprising to Harley when she just held the letter in her lap. He had thought she would be tearing it open like a madwoman.

“Mother, open it up. What’s he got to say? Is he okay? What was the rail riding like? Open it up!” Harley urged Lena, as she sat peculiarly upright in the seat of the car.

“I’m going to wait until I am home. I want to read it by myself, son. I’m sorry, I just need to read it alone first. I will answer your questions as soon as I get home and get it read. That’ll be soon enough. Just hurry now and drive on back to town.” Her voice was forcefully calm. Intentionally. He could tell she wanted to tear it open, but her self-discipline had gotten them this far and he was going to have to do as she said.

“Okay, Mother. Home it is.” With that, Harley headed back out of Betty’s driveway and sped towards town. He knew his mother wanted to tell him to slow down, mostly because it was not their car and she didn’t want them to have an accident. Harley also knew she really did want him to hurry up and get her home so she could read Charley’s letter. The ordeal of waiting and wondering was over.

Once back in town, Harley slowed down a bit, but not much. There was more traffic, of course, and Lena didn’t want any of the lawyer’s friends to see his car barreling through Valley Junction, with a teenage boy behind the wheel. He parked in front of the house, and then he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Harley, please take the car back to the attorney’s office and then walk back home. I’ll be done with your father’s letter by then. We’ll sit down and talk things over. Go now, please. I’m going inside and read this,” she said as she stepped out of the car. His mouth fell open, and his mother must have seen it.

Lena added, “I’m sure you want to know all about your father’s adventure, but we must return the car before something happens to it. You’ve waited over a month; another thirty minutes isn’t going to hurt.” She shut the car door and walked directly into the house, never even looking back to see his still-gaping mouth. Surely, she was able to feel his deep disappointment. Then again, maybe she couldn’t. His mother had no one to share her feelings with since Charley left; Harley noticed she had pretty much just cut her emotions off. She still showed him motherly affection, but there were no highs or lows of normal living. She was always the same. With Charley around, Lena could be mad, happy, sad, or plum crazy. There was none of that since he left to ride the rails. The only emotion Harley ever saw from his mother lately was worry.

As Harley drove to the attorney’s office, he hoped his father’s letter would help alleviate that worry. When he arrived, he handed the keys to his mother’s employer and thanked the man generously. “Mother was very pleased to be able to go out and get the letter. She’s at home reading it right now. She thanks you sincerely, sir.”

“I admire your parents tremendously, Harley. They are both making extreme sacrifices in an unfortunate situation.” He paused and then added, “These are trying times for everyone, but with your house fire and your father out working the wheat, your family is being tested with extraordinarily difficult circumstances. You come from sturdy stock and I am sure you will be a success in whatever you do when you grow up.”

Harley was surprised by this tribute from a man he barely knew. “Thank you, sir,” was all he could think of to say in response.

“I am going to run home now and see what was in Father’s letter,” Harley blurted out. With that, he turned and ran out the door and down that blasted silly concrete sidewalk. Running on grass would have felt better, but the folks in Valley Junction were particular about their front yards, so Harley knew better than take shortcuts.

He raced himself home. Lena was on the front porch. The little house had a tiny porch, but there was just enough room for one wooden chair on each side of the simple front door.

“What does he say, Mother? May I read it? Tell me everything, please!”

“It’s a letter with things in it for just me, Harley, but I shall read all the parts that will answer your questions. Actually, you may read both sides of the first sheet; it tells all about how he got out there and some pleasant people he has made acquaintances with. There’s also a very unfortunate incident with one gentleman. I’ll let you read it for yourself. Here, dear.” With that introduction, Lena handed him the first page. Harley was surprised at how rugged his father’s handwriting was. He thought a second and realized he had never seen his father write anything but his own name. On the other hand, Lena was always writing. She’d write lists of things to do and grocery lists. She’d write down things she wanted to remember from the preacher’s sermon on Sundays in a little black notebook she kept in her gigantic purse. Quotes she read in books or magazines would go in the notebook also, as well as every new word she heard.

So, Harley took the first page from his mother, who was holding the letter like it was a golden treasure. “Be careful with it,” she said.

“I’ll be careful, Mother. Thanks for letting me read it myself.”

The letter was printed and easy to read. It was a little rugged; obviously a man’s handwriting. Harley read both sides twice. He was satisfied that riding the rails was as exciting as he thought it would be. Imagine having to hide from a thug the railroads hired. His father was amazing. He had lived through a tornado that actually killed a man lying not more than ten feet away from him! As he read more, it dawned on him that he could have or maybe should have gone with Charley. Those brothers from St. Paul weren’t very much older than he was! He should have been out there working with his father!

His mother’s voice came, as if she had been reading his mind, “I know what you are thinking, Harley, and you can stop it right this minute. You are staying here, you are doing your milk route, and going to school; you are not riding the rails west. Don’t even think about it!”

“But, Mother...” Harley started to defend the possibility.

“No, absolutely not. Your father left you here with me, and that’s where he wants you to stay. Did you read something I didn’t read in that letter? Did your father ask you to come out there? No. Just plain no,” Lena said with a finality that told Harley it would be pointless to pursue her approval of the idea. He hated it when she was right, but how was he going to ever have his Lincoln if he never got off the farm? Harley wished this was over and that his father was home again.