Big Moves for Mable and Henrietta

We heard her calling, “Welcome home, Henrietta. Welcome home, Mable.” Burnie’s mother was walking across the front yard as Uncle Albert pulled the car up to the curb in front of our house. Our lawn had been freshly mowed, probably by Burnie. We had been gone nearly three weeks! Tomorrow was August twentieth and I had to be in Iowa City on the twenty-sixth. Burnie’s dad was going to drop me off in Iowa City and then drive Burnie on to Purdue. I had to talk to Burnie!

“Is Burnie home, Mrs. Orwig?” I asked, apparently in an overly anxious manner, because she looked startled.

“He sure is, honey. He’s cleaning the lawn mower blades out back by the shed. Why don’t you just go on back there and see him? I will help your mother unpack the car.” With that, she turned to help Mother out of the car and then gave her a long hug.

I walked slowly toward the back of their house. I didn’t race back there, even though that’s what I felt like doing. It’s hard to explain, but even though I had so much I wanted to tell Burnie and so many things I wanted to talk about with him, I had not actually spent any time at all thinking about exactly what I was going to say.

I had seen him nearly every day of my life since we moved to Des Moines; we had never been apart for this long. There was never anything more than being friends between us. I just missed my best friend.

So, as I rounded the corner, there was Burnie. He had already cleaned the mower blades and was sharpening them with a big metal file. Both my father and his father insisted that the blades be sharpened right after every mowing. I could almost hear my father saying, “Burnie, it will make the job easier for the next person who uses that mower, and since it will probably be you, make ‘em sharp!”

Burnie stood up and wiped his hands on the kerchief he pulled from his back pocket. “Come here, kid. Get a hug. You’ve been through a lot, I’m sure.” Then he added, as he hugged me, “I’m so sorry about your grandmother. She was a very special person.”

Of course, I started to cry, and Burnie tried to hand me his sweaty grass-stained kerchief. “Thanks, Burnie, but you can keep that dirty green thing. I have my clean handkerchief right here in my pocket.”

“Can I get you some iced tea, Mable?”

We had a lot to talk about, so I knew I would need something to drink. I headed for the picnic table under the elm tree, saying, “Tea would be much appreciated, Burnie. Thank you.”

What I really would have appreciated is some idea of where to start. How was I going to tell Burnie we were leaving Des Moines? I also wanted to tell him I was starting to get worried about going to college all alone, but I hadn’t even figured out how to tell Mother. How would I make friends? There were going to be mobs of kids and I had a horribly difficult time hearing in crowds. I often felt left out and it wasn’t easy or fun to always be asking people to repeat themselves. I wasn’t worried about hearing in classes; all I had to do was sit in the front, but what about at parties, and in the dorm, and in the dining hall? Without my best friend, Burnie, who regularly helped me out in situations like that, how would I fit in?

Burnie came leaping off the back porch with two glasses of tea in his hands. They sloshed around but had a surprisingly reasonable amount of tea left in them as he set them down on the table.

“So, fill me in, kiddo. Tell me about the past three weeks. How is your mother doing? How are you doing? Is there anything I can help you with? We are both going to be getting out of this town pretty soon!”

I let out a heavy sigh, but I gave him a little smile with it so he wouldn’t worry. “I really don’t know where to start, Burnie. I really don’t. But, I’m going to try.”

So, I told him pretty much everything. Beginning, of course, when we got the phone call from Uncle Albert about Grandma Von Dornum’s house fire. I gave the details of the trip up to Eldora, how the fire took Grandma’s life, how she didn’t suffer, and about her funeral service. I could tell Burnie understood when I told him how important she was to everyone in Steamboat Rock and Eldora, and how I had never really known about that part of her life.

I explained how Mother wanted to stay in Steamboat Rock all those extra days to take care of all the house and property details, and then I ran out of things to tell him. Still, I had not mentioned mother’s decision to move there permanently. So, I dove into the truth about that because I could see in his expression that he knew there was more I wasn’t telling him.

He was definitely surprised. “Are you saying your mother is going to sell your house and actually live in Steamboat Rock from now on? Are you going with her?”

“I’m going to Iowa City, remember? Going to college in six days…your Dad is still driving us, right?”

“Yes, but how did she decide to do that? That is one giant decision to make.” Burnie looked right at me, like it was my fault.

So I told him how Uncle Albert, along with the insurance man, the banker, and the realtor, had persuaded Mother that it was the best thing to do and how she had not even let me know she was thinking about it before she made up her mind.

“She’s not a modern woman like I am, Burnie. Women have had the vote for three presidential elections now, and she still hasn’t voted! She just listened to Uncle Albert and those men. Mother’s sure she will be happier living closer to the rest of her family and her old friends. I’m not going to be there most of the time, anyway. There is no changing her mind now; she’s looking forward to it.”

Burnie was really quiet for what felt like a long time. Then he said, “I guess your mother knows what she wants. Her brother wouldn’t have her do anything that would be bad for her. How do you think it will work out?”

“Well, it will probably be very nice for Mother, but not for me. I always thought you and I could see each other during school breaks, you know, being right next door here. That’s going to be different now. Much harder, don’t you think?”

Burnie looked shocked and admitted, “Gee, I didn’t think about that yet. That’s not good. I don’t want to lose touch with you, Mable. Friends like we are, well, they just don’t split up because someone moves. We’ll find a way. We will. I will make sure of that! And hey, I haven’t even had a chance to catch you up on baseball! I’ll betcha haven’t had time to keep up on your Cubs, have you?”

Burnie was such a good fella; he was trying to make me feel a little better and knew I had to stop thinking about Mother moving. I had to start doing something about packing everything. Burnie and I both had a lot of suitcase packing and boxing up to do. I barely saw him for the next three days. Mother gave me a lot of time by myself in my room to think and pack, but a few times she needed my help with some big jobs. She was, after all, packing up the whole rest of the house!

All of my belongings that I was taking to Iowa City fit into one large trunk and one small trunk. I took my fall and winter clothes, the quilt and bathrobe Grandma Von Dornum gave me for graduation, and a couple of my swimming trophies. I also packed my good old Red Cross First Aid book. It had great information, as well as detailed illustrations that I thought might be helpful in my anatomy class. Even though I was majoring in journalism, my plan was to take a lot of physical education classes, too.

Two days before we were scheduled to leave, Burnie came over after supper. We shot some baskets and caught up on each other’s packing progress, and finally, we had some time to catch up on baseball! My Cubs were leading their league and his Yankees were leading their league! They might meet in the World Series! We both had lots of players on our teams to brag about. Burnie mentioned that he wished my father was there to talk with us and he told me that Dad would really be laughing out loud at our crazy competition. I thanked him for that. It was nice to know Burnie still thought about my father, too.

Then Burnie said that Ted Ashby had called him and asked about me. He wanted to make sure he had my address at school and said that he would be following my college swimming career. Burnie told me that I needed to call Mr. Ashby and give him my school address and my Steamboat Rock address. I told Burnie I had no idea at all what the address in Steamboat Rock was, but he said I could get it from my mother. He was pretty sure the new house built there would have the same house number as the one that burned. That made sense to me.

When I called him, Mr. Ashby wanted to talk a long time. He gave his condolences for our loss of Grandma, which I felt was very thoughtful of him. He had some helpful advice for me concerning journalism classes and said if I could make arrangements for a place to live in Des Moines, I could work at the Tribune with him during my summers. I liked that plan! Maybe I could stay with Burnie’s folks, visit Mother now and then in Steamboat Rock, and get real journalism experience, not just on the college newspaper.

The night before we were leaving on our college adventures, Burnie’s parents took us all out to a picture show and dinner. We saw Huckleberry Finn, starring Jackie Coogan, at the Des Moines Theater. Then we ate dinner at The Chickadee over on 6th Avenue. It was a wonderful evening and of course Burnie and I received all of the very important advice our parents had to give us before we flew the coop. We pretended we were actually listening, even though we weren’t. After all, it was a rehash of the same things they had been telling us all through high school. I really wished my dad had been there with us, because he always had the best advice for me. Missing him so much, I decided that night to make him very proud of me at the University of Iowa.