Euncie's World

By Ruth Jesness Tweed

Euncie's World was small. It revolved around a farm in the Midwest and the immediate neighborhood. Although fiction, the author draws from her own memory to bring the "old days" to life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716547898

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 RUTH JESNESS TWEED. All rights reserved. ISBN 978-1-71654-789-8

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the author.

EUNCIE’S WORLD

BY

RUTH JESNESS TWEED

DEDICATION

Thanks to those who helped write this story. To those who listened and advised and friends from long ago who may have inspired some of the characters—we won’t tell who. Special thanks to my granddaughters Alyssa and Mara for their help.

Dedicated to the memory of my parents Clara and Alfred Jesness.

FORWARD

I thank my grandmother for my own love of storytelling. I would call myself a writer, but then that puts me on the same plane as she, and that’s not entirely fair. As a young journalist, I spend my days seeking out others’ stories. I am practiced in removing myself and my own voice from the words. There’s a certain detachment the journalism industry expects–an invisible line of personal connection that I’m forbidden to cross.

My grandmother also collects others’ stories. Conversations in her living room are strung together anecdotes from those she’s met in her 80-plus years. Rarely is she the subject of the story–her humility is deep-rooted— but her voice is what makes each remembered snippet of life compelling. There’s a gentle innocence in her stories as she captures the moments of connection between people. It's a talent I have yet to find in another author.

Euncie's World is based on my grandmother’s memories of the 1930s. Though the worries of The Great Depression, the threat of war, and the rainless years in the Midwest hung over her west-central Minnesota town, my grandmother was—like the school-aged characters in the book--caught up in the immediacy of a young girl’s world. There was the drama of a country schoolhouse, the embarrassment of teasing boys, the frustration of detested sewing projects. Outside of the school's walls, the community came together during hard times, with the genuine love and support that is the lifeblood of the following story.

My grandmother doesn’t remember when she first started writing. She remembers telling silly stories in the schoolyard and she remembers days spent pecking away at a make-believe typewriter. There was still something magical about the tapping of the imaginary keys, bringing a story from her imagination to her fingertips.

That magic lives on in her stories now--in her two collections of poems and short stories, The Crazy Quilt and A Little Lunch and More, and in her first novel, The Ninth Year.

It’s a rarity these days to find a sweet story that captures all the intricacies of human interaction, but Euncie's World does just that.

In my newsroom world, much of what I read and write is negative. So many of today’s stories, both fiction and non-fiction, are dark. Ruth Tweed’s work is the light we need more of.

Written by Mara Klecker

TABLE OF CONTENTS

DEDICATION…      v

FOREWARD…      vii

AUNT EUNICE…      2

A NAME FOR THE BABY…      12

MARGO…      18

LESSONS IN DOMESTICITY…      24

LADIES AID…      34

AUNT ELEANOR…      43

THE LONG UNDERWEAR PROJECT…      50

UNCLE OTTO…      60

UNCLE OTTO GOES COURTING…      65

HELGA…      72

RALLY ROUND THE NELSONS…      81

BACK TO SCHOOL…      86

MISCHIEF…      94

ANGELS AND SHEPHERDS…      100

BASKET SOCIAL…      105

AFTER THE BASKET SOCIAL…      109

FLU…      114

CHRISTMAS…      121

THE NEXT CHAPTER…      125

JANUARY…      130

MRS. TORKELSON…      135

PLANS FOR HELGA…      144

FEBRUARY…      148

MARCH…      153

SPRING…      159

MRS. TORKELSON BREAKS THE NEWS…      166

ROMANCE?.      170

A NEW BEGINNING…      177

AUNT EUNICE

The girl’s fingers flew across the typewriter keys. The steady clicks and the frequency of the bell indicated that she was an efficient typist.

She stopped, removed the imaginary manuscript from the machine and sighed. It would be so much more fun if the typewriter had a ribbon.

Euncie, come and set the table, her mother called from the kitchen.

I’m coming, the girl replied as she covered the old Remington.

I called you three times. You just don’t pay attention! Her mother’s voice was sharp.

I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. I was typing. "Typing! You can’t type on that old thing. You

were just pretending."

Pretending wasn’t good. It was all right when you were young, five or so, but when you were almost eleven you were much too old.

I was practicing, said Eunice with a tremor in her voice. Aunt Eleanor said she’ll bring a ribbon next time she comes.

Don’t count on it, her mother replied. Eleanor has other things on her mind now. Get busy and set the table in the dining room.

In the dining room? Are we having company? Vi and Lloyd are coming.

When did they get to be company? Eunice asked

slyly.

The kitchen is too crowded with all of us here,

her mother explained.

It wouldn’t be so crowded if Vi weren’t so fat, Eunice answered, keeping her back turned so her mother

didn’t see the grin on her face. Almost eleven-year-old girls were not supposed to know about pregnancy. She knew her mother would discuss the remark with her dad and they would argue about whether Eunice would be old enough to understand that she would soon be an aunt.

Actually Eunice hadn’t noticed until her best friend, Margo, told her.

What makes you think so? she asked when Margo made the observation.

Can’t you see how big she is getting? Margo couldn’t believe that Eunice didn’t know.

Big? Suddenly Eunice began to understand it was embarrassing to be so dumb.

Since then she tried to avoid looking at her sister and wondered how much longer she could play innocent.

Put the spoon by the knife on the right side of the plate and the fork on the left, her mother said as she always did. Eunice didn’t see why it mattered but her mother said if it was worth doing it was worth doing correctly. There were so many things that had to be done correctly. Eunice wondered if she would ever learn them all. Such things weren’t important at Margo’s house. Sometimes Margo and her dad ate right out of the kettle.

Go down cellar and get a jar of sauce, her mother ordered. You can take whatever you want.

That was nice. They had been eating rhubarb nearly every day since spring. Eunice had helped pick and cut rhubarb until she saw it in her sleep.

She chose a jar of peaches. It was the last one on the shelf but they would soon be canning new. She dished out the peaches and set the bowls by the plates, being careful that her brother, Don, didn’t get a bigger share than she. When her sister and husband arrived, Eunice slipped into the kitchen and tried to be invisible.

What did the doctor say? her mother asked.

It could be any time, Vi answered. "Lloyd is

worried about me being home alone while he’s working. Ma nodded understandingly. You can stay here,"

she said hopefully.

Lloyd wouldn’t hear of it, Vi answered. We thought maybe Euncie could come and stay with us. If Lloyd is working when the time comes, Euncie can run out to the field and tell him.

Euncie? Why she’s too young. She doesn’t even know about the baby.

Well, it’s time you told her, Vi answered. I’ll bet she knows. Haven’t you seen her watch me? She looks sideways and then looks down. She knows a lot more than you think she does.

Oh, I don’t think so. When I was her age... Ma stopped.

You were her age when Uncle Tom was born. And don’t tell me you didn’t know.

I didn’t. Papa took us all over to Grandma’s. We were surprised when we got home.

Vi laughed. I’m not sure I believe you. Anyway, can Euncie come?

I’ll have to ask Pa what he thinks. Then we’ll have to have a talk with her, Ma said with a sigh.

During supper Eunice kept her eyes down, trying not to look at her sister. Don ate in a hurry and ran upstairs. Ten minutes later he came down, pulling in his shirt tails and buckling his belt.

Where are you going? his mother asked.

To town, he answered shortly and was out the

door.

He      never      tells      us      anything,      Ma      said

disapprovingly.

He’s almost grown up, said Vi. He’s only seventeen, Ma answered.

Eighteen in three weeks, Vi corrected her. Ma

sighed.

Vi stood up and started to clear the table. She turned to Eunice. I’ll help with the dishes. Ma and I have something to talk over. Why don’t you run over to Margo’s house for a while?

Yes, go ahead, Ma said. Be back in an hour.

Eunice skipped down the road. She wanted to have as much time with Margo as possible. She probably wouldn’t see her for a couple of weeks.

Margo met her in the driveway. Daddy saw you coming, she shouted. What’s up?

They want me out of the house to talk about me, Eunice replied.

Arm in arm the girls walked to the house. Margo’s father was washing dishes. Pa never did that.

We need something clean to eat on, he said with a laugh. "Run along, honey. I can finish up. Your turn next time. Upstairs in Margo’s room Eunice told about her sister’s plans.

Oh, you’re so lucky. Won’t that be fun? Margo squealed with excitement.

I don’t know. Vi is awful bossy and she’s been crabby lately.

That’s because of her condition, Monica explained. But you’ll be the first to know when the baby comes. Maybe she’ll have it at home and you’ll get to help.

Help! Eunice was terrified at the thought. That would be awful!

My mother’s books are in the closet. I can show you what happens. Margo was already on a chair, bringing down books from a closet shelf.

Do you dare? Eunice gasped.

"Daddy never comes upstairs until he goes to bed.

He wouldn’t care anyway."

Margo’s mother had almost been a doctor. She had finished a year of medical school when she decided to get

married. She died when Margo was five, before they moved to the farm. Mr. Getchall told Eunice’s parents that his wife had never been well since they married. He thought she lost her health working in the hospital.

Someday I’ll be a doctor and I’ll use these books, Margo said as she pulled out a thick volume. Obstetrics and gynecology, she read aloud. That’s what I’m going to do when I grow up. I’m going to deliver babies, Margo declared. That will be so much fun.

Eunice gulped. It didn’t sound like fun at all.

Girls, Eunice’s mother is on the phone. She wants her home immediately. Mr. Getchell called from the kitchen. Immediately meant ten minutes ago. Eunice was off before Mr. Getchell hung up the phone.

Vi and Lloyd were waiting.

How would you like to stay at Vi’s for a few days? Ma asked.

Okay, Eunice answered without enthusiasm.

Ma stammered a little then went on. Vi is going to have a baby very soon.

Ya, I know.

Ma was surprised. Who told you? I noticed.

That was the end of the talk. Ma had a suitcase already packed because Vi and Lloyd were in a hurry. They were tired after a long day and hardly had a word to say on the way home.

Viola and Lloyd Knutson lived in a small farmhouse about eight miles from the Ellingson farm. Lloyd worked with his father so they didn’t have animals or machinery on the place—just a few wild cats.

The tiny house had no extra bedroom so Eunice slept on the living room couch when she stayed overnight. That evening was so warm she decided she would like to make a bed on the porch. She’d always wanted to sleep outdoors but Ma would never let her.

Don’t let the mosquitoes eat you alive, Lloyd said as Eunice spread a blanket on the porch floor.

The full moon made the outdoors as bright as day but it was different. The shadows were dark and even the scraggly pine in front of the house looked spooky. She wished Margo were with her. She wasn’t afraid of anything. Maybe sometime they could sleep outdoors at Margo’s place, but she knew that Ma would never let her stay with anyone but Vi.

She didn’t know there were so many sounds when it was quiet. The leaves made soft noises and there were strange things moving in the bushes.

Something moved nearby. It must have been a cat. Somewhere there was a dog barking. That was at Lloyd’s parents’ home half a mile away. A mosquito buzzed over her head.

She couldn’t keep her eyes shut as she lay listening. She thought about Margo’s books and Vi and the baby and she was scared. What if she had to help Vi? What if she couldn’t find Lloyd?

A mosquito landed on her arm. She slapped it but immediately two more took its place.

She thought about being an aunt. There weren’t any aunts in her school or any uncles either. She’d be the first. She hoped the baby would be a girl. Vi didn’t say so but Eunice knew she wanted a girl too. She had a bassinet trimmed with lace and a pink satin quilt, folded in the basket. Lloyd said if they had a boy she would have to put it away for the next one.

She wondered what they would name the baby. Names were important. She should know. She had an awful one. Who would want to be Eunice Eleanor Ellingson? If only they’d call her Eunice—but nobody did. One would think Euncie was as bad as it could get until you heard Uncle Otto say it. He called her Juincy. Stinky Olson heard it and now all the kids in school called her Juicy.

It was funny about Uncle Otto. He said Juicy for Euncie and yuice for juice. Margo couldn’t help giggling when she heard him talk and that made Eunice feel bad.

Margo didn’t like her name either. She wanted to be Elizabeth because that was her mother’s name. Sometimes when they were alone they pretended that Margo was Elizabeth and Eunice was Rosemary.

When I grow up I’m going to change my name, Eunice declared when she was very young—a year or so ago.

Girls usually do when they grow up and get married, her mother said.

I didn’t mean that. Eunice said. I mean my first name. I hate Eunice. I’m going to be Rosemary."

Everyone laughed so Eunice never talked about it to anyone again, except Margo.

I’m going to be an author when I grow up—or an actress. Maybe I’ll be both. I want to be famous. Whoever heard of anyone with a name like mine?

Famous people always change their names, Margo said knowingly. "They take a nom de plum. That’s French."

"My nom de plum will be Rosemary Kane, Euncie said. Doesn’t that sound like a movie star?"

It sounds nice, Margo agreed. I’ll call you that now if you’ll call me Elizabeth. Someday I will be Dr. Elizabeth Getchell. That’s what my mother should have been.

It didn’t help to think of that now. She was just plain Eunice Ellingson and Margo Elizabeth was far away. Sleeping outdoors wasn’t fun after all. Now there were clouds over the moon and screeching noises came from the barn. Just cats, she said to herself but she shivered.

After missing a mosquito on her ear she picked up her blanket and went indoors. She curled up on the couch and was soon asleep.

It took a minute or two to remember where she was when she woke. The small room was too warm from the hot sun. Usually Vi pulled the shades before the sun was that high. The clock showed ten-thirty. And the house was so quiet Eunice could hear her heart beating.

Why didn’t they wake me? she thought. She was never allowed to sleep this late at home.

There was no one in the kitchen. She looked in the bedroom where the bed was unmade and there was no sign of Vi.

She went outdoors and called. The car was gone. They’d gone away and left her. For the first time in her life she was all alone. She sat on the porch steps and cried.

After a few minutes of sobbing