Wooden Ornaments

By M. Dlugopolski

About the Book
After the loss of their mother, Brian and his sisters must prepare funeral arrangements and break the news to their terminally ill father, Aubrey. As Aubrey reflects on his life and talks to the ghost of his wife, he thinks on his sins and begins to discover the healing power of forgiveness. Meanwhile, ornaments that contain letters that he made enlighten his children about the horrors he experienced as a soldier and his great love for his wife.
Christmas is a holiday of love. Wooden Ornaments shows that the love of a family is one of the most important forms. Today more than ever before, families need to love one another and accept each individual as they are.
About the Author
Writing has always been a silent passion for M. Dlugopolski. Upon retirement as a medical secretary after forty-five years of rewarding service in healthcare, she decided to expand her passion for writing; this novel is the fruit of that labor and love. Dlugopolski has always had an obsession with history, especially the men and women in her family that served in WWI, WWII, as well as the Korean and Vietnam wars. She saw the men who served in WWII, including her father, bury their war stories with alcohol, cigarettes, and silence.
At the end of her mother’s life, she shared her stories from the Great Depression and the 1940s. She often told the story of how she met her husband, Dlugopolski’s father, and their courtship. This novel allows Dlugopolski to explore her passion for writing and create a written memorial to cherish and explore the stories that hide from us in plain sight.
Aside from writing, she creates burlap wreaths and crochets.
She and her husband raised their daughter and son and are now enjoying retirement.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Jun 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888129180

Book preview

Chapter 1

12/19, 3 a.m.

Dark vacant eyes stared out the barbed wire fencing as the 409th approached the death camp called Dachau. The 409 were unprepared for what they saw as the skeletons emerged out of their barracks, some clothed, some not. The remaining Germans were filed into the designated area, and shots rang out. The American soldiers felt justified in what they did to the Germans in that camp. Except for Aubrey, he could never forgive himself.

Aubrey McKittrick lay in his hospital bed, His long-bearded face staring down at the covers on his bed., with the memories of the past filling his head. At times they blended together; other times, a specific event drifted through his dementia. Some of those memories are too painful to remember, especially about the war, making him uncomfortable about the sins he committed. Already they were surfacing into his mind, forcing him to recall them. The war would not be silent anymore. He closes his eyes, trying to force the memory of his choosing, but all his mind wants to remember is the blank eyes of the prisoners of Dachau and the boy. Making a choice against the laws of God and his own beliefs. A lifetime of soul-searching for forgiveness. Aubrey grabs his fingers and wrings them together, turning them blue. The hands that created so much beauty in his ornaments that he whittled also committed a horrible crime. The ornaments held secret messages. Only Maeve knew them. Aubrey shook his head; his breathing became labored as the memory of the last ornament he made focused in his brain. Wringing his hands, turning them blue as if to destroy the ability to create.

No, No, No, he shouted. He opened his eyes, looked around the hospital room, and waited for the tension in his stomach and breathing to return to normal.

Maeve understood him and his torment. He relaxes his hands and stares at the wall as he remembers the childhood memories which always gave him peace. They slowly sneak into his demented mind, and his sin is forgotten for the moment.

Chapter 2

1929 was the beginning of the Great Depression. A fire in the early morning woke Aubrey and his sister Mary from a sound sleep. Aubrey carried his sister on his back down the old oak tree outside their bedroom window as she cried into his shoulder. The fire licks the tree base as they jump out of the way of the fire. Aubrey guided Mary away from the fire and returned to the burning house to find the house engulfed in flames; by that time, his parents, William and Hannah McKittrick, asleep in their beds, had died. Neighbors who were starting their day saw the smoke on the horizon. Arriving too late, they all stand there and watch as the house consumes itself to ash. Their neighbor, Jim and Stella Horton, who lived on the farm next to them, took Aubrey and Mary in. Having ten children of their own, they tried their best to provide for Aubrey and Mary, but the depression affected everyone. They reluctantly sent Aubrey and Mary to the orphanage two months later. The two are inseparable, and Aubrey starts whittling tree branches with an old paring knife that he stole from the kitchen while Mary talks incessantly. The orphanage sought out the children’s family for several months before locating Tom and Anne Hofmann, their mother’s parents, on their farm in Erie County.

Aubrey recalls the first meeting with his grandparents. Tom was five feet ten, large, with broad shoulders and a heavy German accent. He had deep wrinkles on his cheeks and forehead, and prominent eyebrows spanned across his piercing blue eyes. His reluctance to learn English was compensated by his wife, Anne. She stood five feet tall, buxom, and was pleasingly plump, as she would say. Her soft white hair is braided and wrapped around her head like a crown. She has a round face, rich brown eyes like chocolate, with a warm smile. She greets them with a bear hug, and Aubrey smells the scent of sugar cookies.

Tom stares at the children and mumbles in broken English, Hello, you come to live with us now.

Anne fussed over them as they were herded into a 1920 Oldsmobile Box truck. It would be a couple of hours on the road in the back of that truck, Aubrey and Mary bouncing all the way.

As they approached the farm, Aubrey was enthralled with the beauty of the fields and trees. Mary talked nonstop as Aubrey looked out.

Do you think they like us, Aubrey? Mary questioned, picking at her sweater.

Guess they do; they’re our grandparents. We are lucky to have them take us in. Stop picking at your sweater; you’ll get a hole.

Mary looked sullenly at Aubrey and folded her hands. I wish we could have saved my doll. I miss her. Do you think I could get a new one?

Aubrey looked over at Mary and moved closer to her. Then, putting his arm around her, I’ll try and get you another doll, Mary. I’m here for you, and we’re gonna be just fine.

Mary smiled at her big brother and laid her head on his arm.

Soon the truck bounced onto a lane, and a white farmhouse with a large porch and white railing emerged in the distance. A large red barn with a large fenced-in area is off to the left. Aubrey can see two pigs and several chickens lurking around there. In the distance, he can see cows munching on grass in a field. Finally, the truck stops in front of the house, making Aubrey and Mary lurch forward.

Their grandfather motions for them to get out, You will go with your grandmother. She will show you your room.

Aubrey and Mary jump out of the truck to follow their grandmother into the house.

Come, come, we will let you have your mother’s room for now. You two can take a rest if you want. I will call you for supper, ya?

Aubrey and Mary nodded obediently and followed her up the stairs. There is a large room on the right with the door ajar. Aubrey surmises it is their grandparents’ room. Their room would be down the dark hallway to the left, two single beds with a nightstand between them and a small dresser against the wall. The room is an odd shade of green with an overhead single light bulb. The children enter the room slowly and turn to look at their grandmother.

Aw, children, it will be alright. You are safe now (Ehrfurcht, Kinder, es wird gut. Sie sind jetzt sicher). She walks over to them and embraces them tightly. Mary starts to cry, and Anne softly pats her back, It’s ok, ok, you lie down to get some rest. You too, Aubrey, we will take care of you!

As their grandmother left the room, the children chose their beds. Aubrey takes the bed near the window, checking if a tree is nearby or an escape route if there is another fire, and Mary is near the door. They both lay down on the comfortable beds and soon fell fast asleep.

They are awakened by their grandmother, who gently shakes their legs. Children, time for supper. Wash your face and hands and come to the dining room. Don’t doddle! she said, smiling.

The children jumped up and did as instructed, running down the stairs to the dining room. Their grandfather is already sitting at the table as their grandmother places the dinner on it. They sheepishly sit down at the table, not speaking a word.

Their grandfather looked over at them as he studied each of them, Gut, du bist endlich da, Anne setz dich, setz dich, damit wir bitte essen können! (Good, you are finally here, Anne, sit, sit, so we can eat, please!) He is irritated that he has to wait as their grandmother places a pitcher of milk in front of them.

The children’s fear was evident as they looked at their grandfather, unaware of his words. No matter, there is a feast on the table of sausage and potatoes.

Aubrey and Mary’s days are filled with attending to the fields and animals and learning to speak German and French. Their grandfather is a disciplinarian and does not tolerate insubordination.

Aubrey would test the limitations of chance by getting out of the chores whenever possible and convincing Mary to do his share. When his grandfather found out, he did not hesitate to take off his belt and give him a good swat on his backside, and the children learned quickly that their grandfather was a man of his word. Observing the rebellion in his grandson, Tom’s apprentices him in the workshop, teaching him about lathes, files, and planes, gradually instructing him in joints and sealants, construction, and design. Aubrey excelled at it. As a reward, he gives his grandson his old Swiss army knife. It gave his grandfather pride to see that his grandson had such an artistic flare and how easily he learned even the most difficult skills.

 Schau dir das Holz an und lass es dir sagen, was es sein soll. (Look at the wood and let it tell you what it should be), he would say, offering the critical eye and guiding him.

They grew closer, having this common denominator. They would often go to the grotto near the stream with a statue of the Holy Mother, which his grandfather had carved. In front of it was a bench they would sit on and whittle, never saying a word to each other. Aubrey makes ornaments, and his grandfather carves statues. Aubrey’s skill with the knife, making intricate details, and artistry proliferated. As they sat, his grandfather would quietly mumble to himself. As Aubrey listened, he realized that he was praying the rosary. Aubrey followed suit, and both would quietly recite their prayers as they whittled.

As the sun started to set, he would look at Aubrey and tell him, Es war ein guter Tag (It was a good day).

That always made Aubrey smile.

Aubrey sat in his hospital bed, smiling from that memory. The pain in his back was stabbing at his left side, forcing him to roll onto his right side. The farm again floated into his mind. His grandparents sold all but four acres as the depression wained on. Soon factories started popping up all over the neighborhood, including furniture factories. Eventually, their grandfather went to work in those factories, forcing him to learn English, which he had steadfastly refused to do.

They had one cow till her milk dried up, a couple of pigs, chickens, and a modest garden and fruit trees. When they slaughtered the cow and pigs, Tom decided to brew some beer in the back of the barn. The year was 1931, and prohibition was still in effect, so he shared the beer with neighbors in exchange for tools, wood, milk, butter, and cheese.

Every morning their grandfather rose and grumbled as he walked out the door to the factory, saying, Diese junk nennen Sie Möbel zusammen geklebt ist nichts als eine Farce, sie sollten sich schämen. (This junk they call furniture glued together is nothing but a sham, they should be ashamed).

It became a daily statement, much like the Ten Commandments, which he recited in German every morning with a commanding voice, after which he would recite a blessing making breakfast cold every day.

Tom would remind the children, I tell you the Ten Commandments every day so that you know the laws of God. We must live by the laws and practice them.

They would listen to their grandfather describe the depths of hell and the persecution if they disobeyed God’s rules. Their punishment for misbehaving was a swat on the behind with his belt, a Bible placed in their hands to look up the passage to match the deed, and prayer. Aubrey and Mary would walk to the church every Saturday for confession. Aubrey never minded it; the oak pews, kneelers, quiet atmosphere, and the constant smell of incense gave him peace. The elaborate stained-glasss windows lined the walls show depictions of the Ten Commandments. Noah and the flood, Cain, Able, Sodom, and Gomorrah, and other notable passages from the Bible, surround each depiction of the commandments. A large circular window located behind the marble altar and pulpit depicted the life stages of Christ with the crucifixion in the center. When the sun shone through the center, sun rays radiated from the crucified Christ.

Aubrey felt the penance of once a week was insufficient, so he started to confess two to three times a week. Of course, it was to get out of chores, the other to quiet his mind. They are so frequent that Father Flannigan recognizes Aubrey’s voice the minute he hears it. Father wouldn’t even let him finish the Act of Contrition and asked what, why, and if he was sorry.

Father would then give him at least ten minutes of prayers to do and always tell him the same thing, Aubrey, think before you act, say, or do, then you won’t have to come here so often.

As Aubrey left the confessional and took to the kneeler in the front pew, Father Flannigan left and headed for the gardens passing Aubrey on the way out. He notices that Aubrey has brought something wrapped in a towel today, most likely a delicious baked good from his grandmother. He tapped him on the shoulder as he passed him in the pew, indicating to meet him in the garden when he finished his penance. Aubrey whispered his prayers quickly and casually looked down at the linen towel wrapped around a peach strudel his grandmother had made that morning. He finishes his prayers and genuflects as he exits the pew, doing the sign of the cross. Grabbing the dessert, he heads for the garden on the church’s side, enclosed by an eight-foot brick wall. The garden has numerous varieties of flowers around the Virgin Mary statue, located in a grotto with a small waterfall. A small wrought iron fence encloses the Grotto with kneelers for parishioners who wish to pray to the Holy Mother. Father genuflects in front of the statue and sits on the bench across from the Grotto. He pulls out his rosary and begins to pray. He is barely through the first prayer when he sees Aubrey strolling towards him with the package securely in hand out of the corner of his eye.

He places his rosary back into his pocket as Aubrey approaches. Aubrey, I see you have a package today; what did your grandmother send?

 Aubrey genuflects in front of the Holy Mother and joins Father on the bench. He opens the towel, revealing the strudel, and the two of them sit on the bench munching on the delicious cake that his grandmother made, enjoying the sound of the falling water and the sounds of nature.

 That was delicious, the priest said as he smiled at Aubrey.

I hope your deliberate behavior isn’t so you can get an extra serving of your grandmother’s baking, huh?

Aubrey smiles, and crumbs fall out of his mouth.

Try to be better; let’s see if you can get through one week without having to come to confession three to four times, ok? I’m going to need to be on a diet if you keep seeing me three times a week. Placing his hand on Aubrey’s shoulder, Really, once a week is more than sufficient for penance, Aubrey. When you get older, I am sure you will have more severe sins to atone for, don’t wear out the confessional. You still have a long life to live. Now, you best be going home and get to those chores!

 How right Father Flannigan was about that, Aubrey thought. He readjusts his body from the increasing pain and rolls onto his back again. He had always loved that church and would always depart through the church to look at the stained glass windows making a mental note of the detail of each window. In the back of the church, near the red votive prayer candles, the Ten Commandments carved of wood are displayed with the first commandment on the tablet in all capital letters THOU SHALT NOT KILL. Like his grandfather, Aubrey has become obsessed with God’s commandments. He remembered the day when he asked him why people kill.

Tom looked at his grandson’s eyes and spoke in German in a low voice, Men kill because they want to feel superior, or they’re scared, and some because they just want to. Aubrey vowed that he would never kill, and his grandfather put his rough hands on Aubrey’s face and said, There’ll come a time Aubrey when you will be tested by God. If you fail that test and break his commandments, you must pray for forgiveness for the rest of your life. Do you understand?

Aubrey spoke quietly with tears in his eyes, Ja Großvater (yes, grandfather).

On Sunday, the priest came to their grandparent’s farm for dinner, and Aubrey’s job was to slaughter a chicken, which always made him nauseous. His grandmother would explain the necessity and hug him as tears fell down his face.

Then, when she could hear his struggle, she would go out and help him with the deed. Aubrey, this is a necessity for life; how will you eat if you cannot obtain your food?

Aubrey would hold the chicken body while his grandmother chopped off its head, with Aubrey looking away. Sunday was a day of rest but not on a farm. After chores were done, Aubrey would sit on the bench right outside the door. A pile of scrap wood is beside it. Some pieces are large, others small. Aubrey sits and whittles, making ornaments, his favorite thing. He made ballerina shoes for his sister, a beer stein for his grandfather, and today he would make a gift for his grandmother.

Aubrey pulls out the pocket knife that his grandfather gave him and chooses a nice-sized piece of wood. A bouquet of daisies is visualized in his eye, and he starts to carve into the chunk of maple. Aubrey admires his work as the sun begins to dip behind the trees. Then, standing up and brushing off the shavings, he takes the ornament upstairs to hide it in his drawer. These would be gifts for Christmas, even though it was six months away. He has one more thing to make, a doll for Mary, and he would get his grandmother to make some clothes for it from the flour sacks.

As he closes his drawer, he hears his grandmother call, Children, come to supper… wash your hands and face, please.

A feast of stuffed chicken, fresh green beans, mashed potatoes, and one of grandmother’s apple pies for dessert are placed on the table. Tom is already at the head of the table, with Father Flannagan sitting beside him. Aubrey sits next to Father Flannagan, and Mary sits across from him. They each take a serving; the rest will go with the priest. His grandfather enters the kitchen, brings out a pitcher of beer, and places it on the table.

Are you going to drink the whole thing? his grandmother said with a smile.

Nein, Tom said sarcastically and retrieved beer steins for the beer and drinking glasses for the children.

Next, he pours a stein for his wife, one for himself and Father Flannigan. Upon returning the beer to the icebox, he returns with a milk pitcher and pours Aubrey and Mary a glass. When everyone is seated, they do the cross sign and grab each other’s hands as the meal prayer is said. After the prayer, their grandfather disperses the meal giving himself a very generous portion, then passes it to Father Flannagan. The adults talked about their day while the children ate silently as they dined. Seen, not heard, was a familiar saying at the time, usually enforced if disobeyed. It was uncomfortable not being able to contribute to the conversation.

 With supper finished, the children cleared the table and washed the dishes. The adults sit in the living room drinking beer, and Father Flannagan prepares to leave as the coo-coo clock strikes six.

Thank you so much for the wonderful meal and, of course, the take-home package. Anne, you are a superb cook, Tom; looking forward to seeing you. Goodnight, children.

The children say goodnight and go back to their chores.

Aubrey opens his eyes again, surveying the room. Again readjusts his body to alleviate the increasing pain and focuses on one of his fondest memories of his grandmother when she announced they were going to town to trade and Gertrude their horse. He shut his eyes as the faded memory materialized in his head.

Aubrey goes out to the barn to get Gertrude, a Belgian horse that plowed the fields, but her only job was pulling the buggy as of late. Now Gertrude enjoyed her days munching on grass and hay. Aubrey enters the barn to bring the Belgian horse to the buggy’s front. Dwarfed by her size, she is sixty-eight hands, soft chestnut color, and white hooves; she gracefully follows him to the front of the buggy so that he can hook up the hitch. Aubrey waves a carrot under her nose, which the horse happily chews. When she was finished, he placed the bite into her mouth, straps on the leather harness, and then hooked it up to the buggy. Anne and Mary were already heading to the wagon with goods in hand. Aubrey ran over to help place all the baked goods into the back of the cart, and to his surprise, several pints of beer were already in the back.

Your grandfather will never miss them, and we can get a few extras, Ann smiled.

They all hopped into the carriage and were off.

Gertrude galloped at a steady pace, and it had a rhythmic sound. Mary talked to her grandmother nonstop about what they would see, who they would meet, and what she did in school; she never ran out of subjects, often running from one to another. Aubrey just stared out at the pastures and hills, clouds, and shadows the trees made on the ground. It was then he noticed that the old Stedman Farm had some activity going on.

Grandma, looks like someone has moved into the Stedman Farm.

Aubrey, very observant. We will let them get settled, then we shall visit and introduce ourselves to our new neighbors. I will make a strudel, ya?

As Aubrey and his family went by, he noticed a girl with long red hair twirling in the sunlight at the top of the hill. She is dancing a clog dance, and as she turns, the sunlight shines off her hair, making it look almost golden. He is intrigued and continues to watch her until they round the hill. A week later, the priest introduces the new family to the church. He finds out the girl’s name is Maeve.

A noise in the hall breaks the memories that Aubrey is having. It felt like yesterday when he saw Maeve on that hill. She knew all of his secrets, even the ones from the war. The ornaments held the mysteries, even his sin. He looks around the room to see her sitting in the chair near his bed.

Oh, Maeve, you’re here.

Chapter 3

Brian’s phone rang quietly on the end table next to his bed. After a sixteen-hour shift at the hospital, lowering the volume before collapsing into bed seemed like a good idea. The message went to voicemail, which only sounded another signal that he had a message. The smartphone would continue to initiate the irritating noise until he responded to it. Brian rolled over, muttering, looking at the time on the alarm clock. The bright orange numbers indicated it was three a.m..

Oh great, I got a whole two hours of sleep.

 He picked up the annoying phone and tried to focus his eyes to unlock it to retrieve the message. Fumbling around for his glasses, he grabbed the ear stem and placed them on his face.

Probably the hospital to see if I will work again, he muttered.

Brian has worked as an ER nurse for the past twenty-four years. After joining the air force at eighteen, he studied to become a medic and then a nurse. A decision his father was totally against. His father wanted him to help in the family business. Making furniture and artistic design ornaments, which Brian had no talent for. The tour of duty in the air force lasted for twenty years. During that time, he married Amanda Harding and had two children. When he left the air force, he settled in Pittsburgh and got a job in the ER at one of the hospitals there. He fell in love with the job’s diversity and the adrenaline rush and loved the staff he worked with. He would be retiring soon, but he hadn’t decided when. It was hard to do the twelve-hour: shifts, double backs, and extra weekends at sixty-two.

The call came from St. Andrews Hospital, near his parents’ residence. This now had him completely awake, and he rolled his legs onto the floor. The thrown-off sneakers haphazardly thrown near the bed obstruct his ability to put his feet on the floor, and he brushes them aside with his foot and sends them tumbling across the floor. Turning the end table light on, he takes a deep breath to retrieve the call from the message on the phone.

Hello, this is St. Andrews Hospital Emergency room. We are trying to reach Brian McKittrick regarding his mother. Please call us back as soon as you receive this message at 570-389-4700; please ask for Carol Sanders when you call. Thank you.

Brian hangs his head down; his mom Maeve is ninety years old. Surprisingly, his mother only had high blood pressure, which they have had difficulty controlling lately. The fact that she had fallen quite a few times with minor injuries always kept the family on alert. They bought her an alert button to wear at all times, which she wore to appease her children, saying, Well, just for you, I know I’ll never use it.

Aubrey, his father, ninety-six, has depression, PTSD, and COPD. The latest was the diagnosis of lung cancer stage four.; his father smoked four packs of unfiltered cigarettes a day, and after years of working in the carpentry field, Brian wasn’t surprised by the diagnosis. He didn’t stop smoking until he was eighty-two after a bout with pneumonia. His father had always had emotional outbursts, sending him to his precious bench outside the house with his knife, whittling away the hours. Their mother would never let them understand their father’s pain.

Leave him be; he needs his alone time. Someday he will tell you, she would say.

Brian takes a deep breath and dials the number as instructed.

St. Andrews Hospital Emergency Room, how can I help you? My name is Shay.

Hello, my name is Brian McKittrick; I was asked to call regarding my mother. Is Carol Sanders there?

Yes, one moment, please. I will transfer your call to her.

The wait seems like ten minutes. Finally, Brian hears someone picking up the line and complaining about her night, obviously unaware that Brian has overheard the conversation. However, he is familiar with the background commotion in the ER. Rowdy patients, families complaining, and nurses trying to keep it all together without losing their cool. They are usually short-staffed, overworked, and hungry and haven’t used the bathroom since starting their shift.

Hello, this is Carol Sanders. How can I help you? her voice sounds exhausted and abrupt.

 Hello, this is Brian Mckittrick. You called in regard to Maeve McKittrick? His hand is unsteady as he anticipates the response on the other end of the phone.

 Carol sighs on the phone. Brian hears what sounds like numerous papers being shuffled.

 Yes, we need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible, sir, your mother was brought into the emergency room during the night, and there is a critical change in her condition, she says tediously.

As a nurse, Brian understood that they needed a code status, or his mother had died already. You don’t demand families to come in the middle of the night unless it is an emergency.

I am a nurse and live in Pittsburgh; can you please tell me about my mother’s condition, he said in a soft tone.

Oh, said Carol, her tone softening, "I am sorry, your mother suffered what they feel was a major stroke; she managed to hit the alert