A TRIP TO NOWHERE

Where was she? We were supposed to be catching the 8:40 train to Manhattan. Well, not exactly Manhattan but Pittsfield. Jeanette said Pittsfield was only a short drive from Manhattan. We’d rent a car and drive from there.

Jeanette didn’t shown but I got on the train anyway.

There seemed to be something wrong with my vision. I could only see seats on the right and they were all taken. I stopped the conductor and asked him if there were any vacant seats. He said, “Right there on your left. And it’s the last empty seat. Suddenly I could see the seats on the left.

Why was I on this train? Jeanette was the one who wanted to take this trip and she wasn’t here.

I took a walk through the cars and came upon a young couple I knew who were going to Manhattan. I suggested joining them. A look of horror crossed their faces. “Just kidding,” I said.

I asked a lady passenger how close Pittsfield was to Manhattan. Quite a ways she answered. Would I find a taxi there to take me to Manhattan? Probably not but if I started walking with my suitcase someone might stop and give me a ride. That didn’t sound very promising.

Going back to my seat I found it occupied. Why was I on this train?

The conductor announced Lynnville coming up. I decided to get off and buy a ticket home.

Carrying my suitcase I walked up the driveway toward our farm. The barn had been converted into a large picnic shelter with a cement floor. I wondered what had happened to all the old boards and what had been done with the cattle stalls. The weeds had been cleaned from the around the lake and water was gently lapping against the shore. Someone had hung a swing for two from the huge oak tree so people could swing out over the lake. A large cement frog sat near the tree. How could all these changes have taken place in a few hours?

I glanced up to see my son, Wally, walking out to meet me. I told him he’d done a great job. Just then the alarm clock started buzzing.

Where are Pittsfield and Lynnville anyway?

Rachel Nemitz, February 2011

A LEARNING EXPERIENCE

In Oklahoma our land was adjacent to a gravel pit. The pit was usually dry. However, I remember once, after an exceptionally heavy rainfall, even the deepest pit filled with water and our whole family went swimming. Most of us didn’t know how to swim but enjoyed playing in the water. We didn’t have swimsuits. The boys wore their underwear but we girls had to wear old dresses that were pinned with a safety pin between our legs.
 

Anyway, that was the only swimming experience I remember before I was eight years old.

In 1942, when we lived in Blackburn’s Camp in California Betty, the girl next door, was dating a soldier named Jim. They were going swimming in an irrigation canal and asked me to go along. I’ve since wondered why and think possibly Betty wasn’t all that comfortable with Jim and I was a kind of chaperone. 

 

Jim wore his swimsuit under his uniform and Betty had hers on under her dress. Me? I wore a dress pinned between my legs.

As soon as Jim stopped the car I bounded out of the back seat, went racing to the canal and jumped in. The canal was deep. I never touched bottom but came sputtering to the top. Thrashing, scared, panicked I went under again and came up again.

Jim took time only to shed his shoes before jumping in after me. That picture has remained frozen in my mind—Jim’s upraised foot and his hands pushing a still-tied shoe off just before I went under for the third time. I was embarrassed and ashamed that I had been so stupid. Jim is still my hero. I can’t remember, did I ever thank him properly?

Betty and Jim never again asked me to go anywhere with them and I‘ve never wondered why.

Rachel Nemitz, August 2010

BRAVERY

What is bravery?

Is it the courage to do what is right?

Or the resoluteness to complete a task?

Is it the boldness to say what needs to be said?

Or the audacity to follow a dream?

Is it defiance in the face of danger?

Or the confidence to excel?

Is it fortitude and grit?

Or a daring spirit?

It is a self-reliant attitude?

Or holding out against authority?

Is it grace, spunk and lots of heart?

Is it gallantry and valor?

Or contempt and rashness?

Is bravery manliness and hardihood?

Or prowess and heroism?

Is it confronting your fears?

Or being pugnacious?

All men aspire to be brave

And there is braveness

In all men

Rachel Nemitz, November 2012

MOTHER’S GARDEN

Mother’s flower garden brought  

Beauty into her drab, hard life 

As she lived through the depression 

Doing without many things 

Struggling to give her children food 

She lovingly tended her zinnias, phlox, 

Dahlias, four-o-clocks and moss roses 

She was proud of her peonies, camellias 

And Rose of Sharon bushes 

Sweet-smelling yellow honeysuckle vines 

Grew on trellises near every bedroom window 

The soothing, soft tints 

Created peace and calm 

The bold, deep, warm and cool colors 

Buzzing bees, bird songs and butterflies 

Even the sun splashed spider webs 

Holding dew drops 

Gave her joy 

Each fall she harvested the seeds 

Placed them in labeled envelopes 

And looked forward to spring 

When she could once again 

Began to grow her colorful garden  

Her garden of hope and beauty 

Rachel Nemitz, April 2013