Back in Des Moines

Mother was waiting on the front porch of Burnie’s house when we drove up. I did not recognize the lady sitting between her and Burnie’s mother on the porch swing, but I was immediately introduced to Mrs. Smith, a lovely retired teacher who had purchased our house. She had the kind of bright eyes and charming smile that must have made her a wonderful teacher. Mrs. Smith excused herself, despite an invitation from Mrs. Orwig to stay for dinner. She insisted she had sewing to do and a pie to bake for a church auction and supper on Sunday. That seemed strange for a Friday night activity, but she was adamant. She had lunch and cards on Saturday with some of her retired teacher friends, so both those tasks had to be done tonight. She waved one more time as she entered our front door. I mean her front door.

It felt a little strange seeing someone else going into our house. She was such a friendly lady, though. I was glad Burnie had such a nice new neighbor and I knew how lucky she was to have the Orwig family next door to her.

Dinner was delicious and our room was very comfortable. Mother and I had a long visit after dinner, before bed, but she did most of the talking. There was a lot to tell about all the goings-on in Steamboat Rock and about the new house. She was very excited for me to see it and assured me it would be all ready for Thanksgiving in a few weeks. I kept the little bits of any information that I told her pretty vague. Of course, I was terribly busy with my activities and class, I really enjoyed my roommate, and my work on the paper was not fulfilling, but it was only for a year, and then I could contribute the way I wanted to. That all seemed to satisfy her for the time being.

Mother rolled over and said “Goodnight, darling daughter.” I leaned over and kissed her on the shoulder. I didn’t realize until that moment how much I had really missed her.

It was actually pretty hard to go to sleep that night. I was tired from the long car trip and all the chatting, but what kept me so sleepless was having so many scenarios going through my head of what the rest of the weekend would actually bring. I had to decide what to wear. I had those new gloves I had purchased in Iowa City, but I had not given any thought to what outfit I would be wearing when I shook hands with the great Babe Ruth.

I was also trying to sort out all the questions given to me by my newspaper comrades at the university. I could not possibly ask them all. Maybe I could only ask one question. Which one? I had three hand-written pages of questions. Some were about him, some about baseball, some about politics, some about Ty Cobb, some about Lou Gehrig, and some really strange ones, like about his superstitions and such. How could I choose one or two questions out of that whole mess? I finally decided I would show the list to Mr. Ashby tomorrow when he came by. He would know what to do. I did not want to make a fool of myself.

Mother was sleeping quite peacefully. I strained to look over her at the clock by the bed. It was nearly 2:00A.M. I closed my eyes, said my grateful prayers to be back in Des Moines with the people who loved me the most, and added in a big thank you, in advance, for getting to meet Babe Ruth. I don’t remember fading off to sleep, but it probably happened the instant I closed my eyes.