—
IN OCTOBER OF 1963, when Mayor Ted Nordstrom passed away, there were more than two hundred people at his funeral. His sister, Ingrid, was at the graveside service, and it was good for Katrina to see her daughter again. Ted’s passing was a great loss for the town, but his transition up to Still Meadows was an easy one. So many people couldn’t wait to talk with him, and he felt the same way. The first day, he told his old teacher, “Just think, Miss Beemer, I was able to say hello to my mother and my son on the same day.” There was something so comforting about that to Gene. Having his father join him at Still Meadows made him realize he would never be forgotten.
Later, Gene said to Ted, “Hey, Dad. I haven’t seen Marion or Dena in a long time. Are they all right?”
“Oh, yes, son. They’re fine. The only reason you haven’t seen them is that Marion had to go back home for a while. I think somebody in her family was sick. Anyhow, she then went to New York and had a really nice high-paying job in some big fancy department store. I think it’s called…oh, I forget…your mother knows. You wouldn’t recognize Dena now. Marion just sent us a picture of her. She had her photograph in Seventeen magazine. A regular grown-up girl now.”
Gene smiled at the thought of his daughter being a teenager now, busy running around doing teenage things, as he once had.
At the next Elmwood Springs City Council meeting, Glenn Warren was appointed the new mayor. He said, “Geez, fellows, I don’t know. Being mayor is a big responsibility. Can’t we have an election?”
“Now, Glenn,” said Merle Wheeler, “you were Ted’s best friend. You need to do this.”
Trapped. He finally agreed.
When Glenn went home for lunch to tell his wife, Ola, he was surprised when she met him at the door with a great big “Hello, Mayor Warren.”
“How did you know? It just happened.”
She laughed. “Verbena Wheeler called me.”
“Oh. She couldn’t wait to get on the horn and spread the news, could she?”
“No.”
It was true. A piece of information like that was like a piece of hot coal to Verbena Wheeler. She just had to get rid of it as fast as she could. By two o’clock that afternoon, everybody in town knew that Glenn Warren was now the mayor of Elmwood Springs.
Up at Still Meadows, nature was putting on a wonderful show. Just last week, a large hawk suddenly flew up out of a tree, and the bright moonlight turned his wings as white as snow as he sailed over the hill and down into the valley.
And when the big jet planes started flying over, they too became part of the big show. It was amazing how many planes they saw flying over at night; big planes, little planes, their red and white lights blinking in the dark night sky.
The first time one old Norwegian farmer saw a jet, he said to his grandson, “You mean to tell me there are real, live people riding in that thing?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve flown on a jet—went from St. Louis to New York on one.”
“And did you feel like you were sitting in a bird?”
“Oh, no. No, it’s too noisy for that. And the wings don’t flap.”
“How does it work?”
“Well…you get inside a tube that looks like a long, skinny bus. You find your seat and strap yourself in, and in a few minutes, they turn on these big loud engines. Then they drive down the runway as fast as they can, and before you know it, it lifts up off the ground, and you look down and see the ground way down below, and you are up in the clouds, on your way.”
“Wowzer!” said a teenage boy who had passed away in 1923.
“Then a pretty girl brings you a bag of peanuts and a drink and before you know it, you’re back down on the ground again, hundreds of miles away from where you started.”
“How high do you go?”
“Oh…thousands of feet.”
“Good Lord. Boy, what will those fools come up with next?”
Today it was just Beatrice who came out to the farm to visit Elner. And she was upset. Hanna Marie was getting ready to go off to a special college for the deaf in Boston. Beatrice said, “I’m so worried about her, Elner. She’s never been away from home before. And Boston is so far away. I’m going to miss her so much.”
Elner said, “I know it’s hard, honey, and I know you’ll miss her. We all will. But look on the bright side, Beatrice. If she has to go, at least you and Ander have the money to send her to the very best school. What if she had been born to a poor family?”
“I know, and I’m grateful. It’s just that left to my own devices, I would just keep her home with me forever.”
“When does she leave?”
Beatrice sighed. “In a few weeks….And, oh, do I dread that day, but they say that she has to learn to become independent…and I know they are right. But I do worry. She’s just so trusting and innocent about the ways of the world.”
“Well, I think that’s a good way to be.”
“You think so?”
“I do,” said Elner.
Beatrice smiled. “Oh, I know she’ll probably do just fine, but it’s not only the school that worries me; it’s her future. What if she never marries? Ander and I are not young. What if something should happen to us? Who would take care of her?”
“Oh, Beatrice. Nothing is going to happen to you or Ander, my heavens.”
“I know,” she said. “But promise me, Elner, if anything does, you’ll look after her…make sure she’s all right?”
Elner patted Beatrice’s hand. “That’s not something you even need ask. You know I would. If anybody ever tried to harm that sweet angel, they wouldn’t do it while I was alive and kicking. And don’t forget, I’m a big, strong farm woman. Besides, there’s not a person in this town that doesn’t feel the same way.”
September 2, 1965
Dearest Aunt Elner, Hello from Boston! I’m so sorry I haven’t written sooner, but it has been so hectic up here getting settled into the dorm, signing up for classes, etc. Hardly have a moment to myself. I thank you so much for the gift of fig preserves. It will make me think of you whenever I eat them. Aunt Elner, do keep an eye on Mother and Daddy for me, will you? They looked so sad when they left for home.
Please don’t tell them, but I miss them both so terribly. Sometimes at night I cry myself to sleep. But I am learning so many new things—math for one. Ugh! But they are things I will need to know to help Daddy with his charities. Bye for now.
Love as always, Hanna Marie