PENMANSHIP
A Short Story
by
Nancy S. Sims
January 18, 1918
Dear Diary,
I did it! I won the first prize in penmanship in the Homestead Elementary School contest. For the whole school! I ran all the way home (two blocks) to show my mother. She hugged me and hung it on the wall in the kitchen. Since all the neighbors come through the back door, they can’t miss it. I am so proud of that award. My brothers are not capable of winning such an award—their writing looks like chicken scratch. Even though my older brother, Frederik had his left hand tied behind his back so he would become a righty—it didn’t help. And that horrible Erich Weiss! Huh! Just goes to show him he’s not so smart. I waved that award in his face so he would stop pulling my braids. I think he will have to stop now.
January 18, 1970
Dear Erich,
It has been fifty- two years since I have seen you. I felt compelled to write you since I read in our hometown paper about your recent losses. Please accept my sincere condolences on your double loss. To lose a spouse is difficult enough—I cannot imagine what you are going through to lose a child as well. The Vietnam War has permeated our lives and when one reads an obituary of someone whom we are acquainted with; it becomes all the more real.
I myself, am a widow. My beloved Jake died in 1967 of a massive heart attack. That shouldn’t be a concern of yours except that you might realize we share a common pain. It has been many, many years since you teased me in Mrs. Doverich’s class. I no longer wear pig tails and have since moved far away from Pittsburgh, but I am still loyal to the local paper and receive it on a regular basis. As you can tell I still strive to write with good penmanship.
Since your family moved from Homestead to Squirrel Hill when we were ten, I have followed your life only through tales heard in the balcony of the synagogue.
Life seems to take the oddest twists and turns. More and more I seem to dwell upon my childhood days spent in Homestead. The town has certainly changed as the steel mills seem to be in decline. I often wonder what our families would say about the transformation. Friends report that is no longer bustling and looks rather sorry.
I wish you some peace and fond memories of both your son and wife. Please know there are people from your past that think of you and pray for you.
Sincerely,
Merle Moskowitz Frank
January 25, 1918
Dear Diary,
That awful Erich Weiss! He chased me home from school. He thinks I like him—but I don’t. His red hair is so bright and curly, and sometimes when he laughs, I can see all the way to his uvula in the back of his mouth. I’m very proud of finding that word in the dictionary—my oldest brother, Daniel says one day he wants to be a doctor. He plans on being an ear, nose and throat doctor. He says, that’s because so many people suffer from problems breathing in the steel mill soot. They cough a lot. Maybe, I can help him in his office when I have vacation time from school. I still plan ongoing to The Pennsylvania College for Women; I just don’t know what I will study. In the meantime, I am not going to let that red-headed monster tease me anymore.
January 25, 1970
Dear Erich,
I was touched that you responded to my letter. Mrs. Doverich would be pleased that your penmanship is still legible. I hope that you are adjusting to the loss of your son and wife. I could say time heals all wounds but I believe that is a lie. A song on the radio, or mail addressed to our deceased loved one can bring back memories with a vengeance. I try to embrace those moments, as difficult as they can be.
For you, who lost your son in his prime, he will forever be pictured with a jaunty grin and the look of promise. I feel for all those parents who suffer such a loss. This war seems endless. I will not comment on the politics of the situation. Suffice it to say, all life is valuable.
Spring will soon arrive and with it I hope you can spend some time strolling with the carriage I sent for the new grandbaby you are eagerly awaiting. What a blessing!
Sincerely,
Merle Frank
March 1, 1918
Dear Diary,
I want spring to come! Enough gray days. It makes me want to stay in bed and not go to school. When Mama comes into wake me up, it is still so dark outside, I think it is nighttime. Papa is already up, sipping his tea through the sugar cube lodged (new word), between his teeth. Outside my window the tree is trying to bud—but no birds are landing on the bare branches. I can clearly see the alleyway. It is good and bad. Bad, because I miss the green of the tree and my friendly songbirds. Good, because I can spy on the boys smoking in the alley and also see who is cutting class. They are supposed to be in religious school. The Grossman twins always seem to be hiding behind the garage doors. They are almost as annoying as Erich Weiss.
March 1, 1970
Dear Eric,
See I noted the change in the spelling of your name. I assume you wanted to make your name sound and look less German. Is that the case? After the War, we all were a little more sensitive to our names and backgrounds. My husband’s family also Anglicized their name from Frankenstein to Frank. Too many jokes to deal with and too many inquiries into the origin of their roots. My children were thrilled when we told them we had shortened their last names. As you might imagine the Dracula references were hard on them. My late, dear, Harold and I met when he was a student at Carnegie Tech University and I was at Pennsylvania College for Women. Now it’s just called Chatham College and Carnegie Mellon.
I had a friend, Hinda Ruhl who attended Margaret Morrison (the female college of Carnegie Tech) and she introduced us. He was from Chicago, and planned on returning there after studying engineering. So many name changes! It’s as if everyone was seeking alternate identities.
I have perhaps rambled on too much. The air in Chicago is still brisk and it is time for my daily stroll down Michigan Avenue. I love watching the waves crash against the boulders as people tentatively walk along Lake Michigan’s pathway. It is too early for Lincoln Park to erupt in color or song. But, perhaps, that is why we Chicagoans rejoice when spring does finally arrive. What a contrast with the dreary days along the Monongahela River! The Three Rivers were seen as utilitarian not recreational. What a pity. Maybe someday that will change.
Please let me know when your grandchild arrives and his/her name. Don’t you love the suspense of not knowing the sex of the baby? There should remain some mysteries in life.
All my best,
Merle
June 5, 1918
Dear Diary,
One more week of school! I so long for the summer to begin. Mama said I can walk down to Main Street all by myself. I plan on window shopping at Little’s Shoe Store and maybe, just maybe if I have a few pennies saved up, I can buy a treat at Weiner’s Candy Store. The birds are back! They sing to me each morning outside my window. And next year, I skip a year and I will be a seventh grader instead of being with the babies of sixth grade.
June 5, 1970
Dear Eric,
I was happy to hear from you after a few months. I was getting a little concerned but assumed you were busy moving on with your life. A new baby does indeed take up a lot of time and energy!
Your description of dealing with your son’s belongings was indeed heart wrenching. I admire the strength it took to handle his matters. If you are up to it, it may help to write me about him. I would love to learn more about him. Naming your grandson after him will be a wonderful tribute. I’m sure he was a fine young man, who achieved much in his short life span. Although there are conflicting views on the Vietnam War, one can always appreciate the sacrifice a young man makes for his country. I feel guilty writing this, but we were lucky that all three of our sons either wound up with a deferment or high draft numbers. A cruel twist of fate for some like your son.
As to my plans for the summer, they are still up in the air. I will work in my garden, visit my grandchildren and perhaps write about my childhood days in Homestead. We’ve seen a lot of changes in the world wouldn’t you say? Maybe, I can use you as a source, if that would be okay with you. And your plans? If you are heading west, Chicago is a nice place to visit. I don’t want to be presumptuous, but perhaps… Perhaps—an interesting word don’t you agree?
Sincerely,
Merle
October 10, 1929
Dear Diary,
Mama has taken in boarders. With Papa dying so quickly, we have to find ways to save. I moved to the attic so I can get some privacy. I started college a year later than I planned and have to live at home but, a lot of the girls do, too. The classes are a little challenging but I love my English professor. He is encouraging me to write my stories, especially about the days after Papa died. It helps putting it down on paper. I think Mrs. Doverich would be proud of me. I try to write as neatly as possible in the blue books.
October 10, 1970
Dear Eric,
It was so nice visiting this summer. The pictures of your grandson are so special. You look so happy relaying his development. You asked about me coming to Pittsburgh but, with the cold weather soon to arrive, I am a little hesitant. I don’t want to be a burden upon you, as my breathing is becoming a little more challenging. I guess all those early years of inhaling soot from the steel mills and then smoking haven’t helped. My sons have encouraged me to stop but I just can’t seem to find the will to do so. Now they have those warning labels on each pack. Should I really worry?
We shall stay in touch. The long dark days of winter seem to make me more and more melancholy. Perhaps, we can start weekly phone calls. But—what would Mrs. Doverich say?
Fondly,
Merle
May 5, 1933
Dear Diary,
I am getting married! Right after graduation Harold and I are to be wed. I will be Mrs. Merle Frankenstein. I know I might be teased a little but I don’t care. I will have a college degree and be a bride. Times may be tough but Harold is hopeful that they will turn around. We are moving to Chicago and maybe I can even teach English before we have children. Who knows? See? Even in the dark—light can shine.
May 5, 1973
Dear Eric,
I am so looking forward to our annual reunion. It seems like such a long time between our phone calls and certainly our visits. Thank you for asking about my health. I am getting treatment for my recurring cough and hopeful the doctors at Northwestern Hospital can cure what ails me.
Good news! After all these years, I have earned my Master’s Degree in Elementary Education. Ironic, since I acquired it at the same time as one of my sons. Andrew received his Doctorate in Engineering. Like father, like son. We have always valued education and I hope to see my grandchildren walk down the aisles for both their college degrees and marriage. That would be a real blessing.
Speaking of blessings—you have been just that in my life. Ever since I was eight!! Even though you teased me back in school, I treasure what we have. How many other people can reunite and connect after so many years? Please stay well. We will pick a date soon to meet again.
With much affection,
Merle
January 18, 1942
Dear Diary,
Sorry I haven’t written. It has been a whirlwind becoming a newlywed, then mother of three rambunctious boys. AND—that’s a big AND—Harold was drafted after Pearl Harbor. Fortunately, for us he has been assigned stateside since he has an engineering degree. He has been deployed to some secret location and can only call me every so often. At least we can write!! I send letters and pictures of the boys to a P. O. Box praying to get a return letter from him stating he is staying stateside. So many men lost already. The Gold Stars in the windows of our Chicago neighborhood are a harbinger of pride and sorrow at the same time. I am spending a lot of time praying and counting the days until this horrid war is over. We are hearing horrible rumors of atrocities—they are unimaginable. I try to do my part for the war effort and support those Jewish refugees who are trying to escape.
January 18, 1974
Dear Mr. Weiss,
I found your address among our mother’s possessions. Your letters were bound with a red silk ribbon. Unfortunately, I have to inform you that she has passed away from lung cancer. She wanted us specifically to write—not call you. It was one of her last requests. We know that your letters, visits and calls brought her much joy. She said she had few regrets; only that she could not see her grandchildren blossom. She was a devoted wife, mother and obviously a loyal friend. She spoke often of her days growing up in Pittsburgh. The tales of Homestead and the steel factories were numerous and sometimes probably embellished but we relished her tales.
We hope you stay in touch. Her funeral was small according to her wishes, but as a central part of her life we hope you will continue to share with us stories of you and your family. She wanted you to make sure you continued to keep up your good penmanship. Stay well.
Sincerely,
Michael, David and Andrew Frank
