The Oblong Box by Edgar Allan Poe

With Halloween around the corner I'm posting stories of the macabre as I did last year.  They will be famous, not so famous and infamous stories.  The first was published in 1850 and is one of my favorites.  I hope one of yours too.

SOME years ago, I engaged passage from Charleston, S. C, to the city of New York, in the fine packet-ship "Independence," Captain Hardy. We were to sail on the fifteenth of the month (June), weather permitting; and on the fourteenth, I went on board to arrange some matters in my state-room.

I found that we were to have a great many passengers, including a more than usual number of ladies. On the list were several of my acquaintances, and among other names, I was rejoiced to see that of Mr. Cornelius Wyatt, a young artist, for whom I entertained feelings of warm friendship. He had been with me a fellow-student at C -- University, where we were very much together. He had the ordinary temperament of genius, and was a compound of misanthropy, sensibility, and enthusiasm. To these qualities he united the warmest and truest heart which ever beat in a human bosom.

I observed that his name was carded upon three state-rooms; and, upon again referring to the list of passengers, I found that he had engaged passage for himself, wife, and two sisters -- his own. The state-rooms were sufficiently roomy, and each had two berths, one above the other. These berths, to be sure, were so exceedingly narrow as to be insufficient for more than one person; still, I could not comprehend why there were three state-rooms for these four persons. I was, just at that epoch, in one of those moody frames of mind which make a man abnormally inquisitive about trifles: and I confess, with shame, that I busied myself in a variety of ill-bred and preposterous conjectures about this matter of the supernumerary state-room. It was no business of mine, to be sure, but with none the less pertinacity did I occupy myself in attempts to resolve the enigma. At last I reached a conclusion which wrought in me great wonder why I had not arrived at it before. "It is a servant of course," I said; "what a fool I am, not sooner to have thought of so obvious a solution!" And then I again repaired to the list -- but here I saw distinctly that no servant was to come with the party, although, in fact, it had been the original design to bring one -- for the words "and servant" had been first written and then overscored. "Oh, extra baggage, to be sure," I now said to myself -- "something he wishes not to be put in the hold -- something to be kept under his own eye -- ah, I have it -- a painting or so -- and this is what he has been bargaining about with Nicolino, the Italian Jew." This idea satisfied me, and I dismissed my curiosity for the nonce.

Wyatt's two sisters I knew very well, and most amiable and clever girls they were. His wife he had newly married, and I had never yet seen her. He had often talked about her in my presence, however, and in his usual style of enthusiasm. He described her as of surpassing beauty, wit, and accomplishment. I was, therefore, quite anxious to make her acquaintance.

On the day in which I visited the ship (the fourteenth), Wyatt and party were also to visit it -- so the captain informed me -- and I waited on board an hour longer than I had designed, in hope of being presented to the bride, but then an apology came. "Mrs. W. was a little indisposed, and would decline coming on board until to-morrow, at the hour of sailing."

The morrow having arrived, I was going from my hotel to the wharf, when Captain Hardy met me and said that, "owing to circumstances" (a stupid but convenient phrase), "he rather thought the 'Independence' would not sail for a day or two, and that when all was ready, he would send up and let me know." This I thought strange, for there was a stiff southerly breeze; but as "the circumstances" were not forthcoming, although I pumped for them with much perseverance, I had nothing to do but to return home and digest my impatience at leisure.

I did not receive the expected message from the captain for nearly a week. It came at length, however, and I immediately went on board. The ship was crowded with passengers, and every thing was in the bustle attendant upon making sail. Wyatt's party arrived in about ten minutes after myself. There were the two sisters, the bride, and the artist -- the latter in one of his customary fits of moody misanthropy. I was too well used to these, however, to pay them any special attention. He did not even introduce me to his wife -- this courtesy devolving, per force, upon his sister Marian -- a very sweet and intelligent girl, who, in a few hurried words, made us acquainted.

Mrs. Wyatt had been closely veiled; and when she raised her veil, in acknowledging my bow, I confess that I was very profoundly astonished. I should have been much more so, however, had not long experience advised me not to trust, with too implicit a reliance, the enthusiastic descriptions of my friend, the artist, when indulging in comments upon the loveliness of woman. When beauty was the theme, I well knew with what facility he soared into the regions of the purely ideal.

The truth is, I could not help regarding Mrs. Wyatt as a decidedly plain-looking woman. If not positively ugly, she was not, I think, very far from it. She was dressed, however, in exquisite taste -- and then I had no doubt that she had captivated my friend's heart by the more enduring graces of the intellect and soul. She said very few words, and passed at once into her state-room with Mr. W.

My old inquisitiveness now returned. There was no servant -- that was a settled point. I looked, therefore, for the extra baggage. After some delay, a cart arrived at the wharf, with an oblong pine box, which was every thing that seemed to be expected. Immediately upon its arrival we made sail, and in a short time were safely over the bar and standing out to sea.

The box in question was, as I say, oblong. It was about six feet in length by two and a half in breadth; I observed it attentively, and like to be precise. Now this shape was peculiar; and no sooner had I seen it, than I took credit to myself for the accuracy of my guessing. I had reached the conclusion, it will be remembered, that the extra baggage of my friend, the artist, would prove to be pictures, or at least a picture; for I knew he had been for several weeks in conference with Nicolino: -- and now here was a box, which, from its shape, could possibly contain nothing in the world but a copy of Leonardo's "Last Supper;" and a copy of this very "Last Supper," done by Rubini the younger, at Florence, I had known, for some time, to be in the possession of Nicolino. This point, therefore, I considered as sufficiently settled. I chuckled excessively when I thought of my acumen. It was the first time I had ever known Wyatt to keep from me any of his artistical secrets; but here he evidently intended to steal a march upon me, and smuggle a fine picture to New York, under my very nose; expecting me to know nothing of the matter. I resolved to quiz him well, now and hereafter.

One thing, however, annoyed me not a little. The box did not go into the extra state-room. It was deposited in Wyatt's own; and there, too, it remained, occupying very nearly the whole of the floor -- no doubt to the exceeding discomfort of the artist and his wife; -- this the more especially as the tar or paint with which it was lettered in sprawling capitals, emitted a strong, disagreeable, and, to my fancy, a peculiarly disgusting odor. On the lid were painted the words -- "Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, Albany, New York. Charge of Cornelius Wyatt, Esq. This side up. To be handled with care."

Now, I was aware that Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, of Albany, was the artist's wife's mother, -- but then I looked upon the whole address as a mystification, intended especially for myself. I made up my mind, of course, that the box and contents would never get farther north than the studio of my misanthropic friend, in Chambers Street, New York.

For the first three or four days we had fine weather, although the wind was dead ahead; having chopped round to the northward, immediately upon our losing sight of the coast. The passengers were, consequently, in high spirits and disposed to be social. I must except, however, Wyatt and his sisters, who behaved stiffly, and, I could not help thinking, uncourteously to the rest of the party. Wyatt's conduct I did not so much regard. He was gloomy, even beyond his usual habit -- in fact he was morose -- but in him I was prepared for eccentricity. For the sisters, however, I could make no excuse. They secluded themselves in their staterooms during the greater part of the passage, and absolutely refused, although I repeatedly urged them, to hold communication with any person on board.

Mrs. Wyatt herself was far more agreeable. That is to say, she was chatty; and to be chatty is no slight recommendation at sea. She became excessively intimate with most of the ladies; and, to my profound astonishment, evinced no equivocal disposition to coquet with the men. She amused us all very much. I say "amused"- and scarcely know how to explain myself. The truth is, I soon found that Mrs. W. was far oftener laughed at than with. The gentlemen said little about her; but the ladies, in a little while, pronounced her "a good-hearted thing, rather indifferent looking, totally uneducated, and decidedly vulgar." The great wonder was, how Wyatt had been entrapped into such a match. Wealth was the general solution- but this I knew to be no solution at all; for Wyatt had told me that she neither brought him a dollar nor had any expectations from any source whatever. "He had married," he said, "for love, and for love only; and his bride was far more than worthy of his love." When I thought of these expressions, on the part of my friend, I confess that I felt indescribably puzzled. Could it be possible that he was taking leave of his senses? What else could I think? He, so refined, so intellectual, so fastidious, with so exquisite a perception of the faulty, and so keen an appreciation of the beautiful! To be sure, the lady seemed especially fond of him- particularly so in his absence -- when she made herself ridiculous by frequent quotations of what had been said by her "beloved husband, Mr. Wyatt." The word "husband" seemed forever -- to use one of her own delicate expressions- forever "on the tip of her tongue." In the meantime, it was observed by all on board, that he avoided her in the most pointed manner, and, for the most part, shut himself up alone in his state-room, where, in fact, he might have been said to live altogether, leaving his wife at full liberty to amuse herself as she thought best, in the public society of the main cabin.

My conclusion, from what I saw and heard, was, that, the artist, by some unaccountable freak of fate, or perhaps in some fit of enthusiastic and fanciful passion, had been induced to unite himself with a person altogether beneath him, and that the natural result, entire and speedy disgust, had ensued. I pitied him from the bottom of my heart -- but could not, for that reason, quite forgive his incommunicativeness in the matter of the "Last Supper." For this I resolved to have my revenge.

One day he came upon deck, and, taking his arm as had been my wont, I sauntered with him backward and forward. His gloom, however (which I considered quite natural under the circumstances), seemed entirely unabated. He said little, and that moodily, and with evident effort. I ventured a jest or two, and he made a sickening attempt at a smile. Poor fellow! -- as I thought of his wife, I wondered that he could have heart to put on even the semblance of mirth. I determined to commence a series of covert insinuations, or innuendoes, about the oblong box -- just to let him perceive, gradually, that I was not altogether the butt, or victim, of his little bit of pleasant mystification. My first observation was by way of opening a masked battery. I said something about the "peculiar shape of that box-," and, as I spoke the words, I smiled knowingly, winked, and touched him gently with my forefinger in the ribs.

The manner in which Wyatt received this harmless pleasantry convinced me, at once, that he was mad. At first he stared at me as if he found it impossible to comprehend the witticism of my remark; but as its point seemed slowly to make its way into his brain, his eyes, in the same proportion, seemed protruding from their sockets. Then he grew very red -- then hideously pale -- then, as if highly amused with what I had insinuated, he began a loud and boisterous laugh, which, to my astonishment, he kept up, with gradually increasing vigor, for ten minutes or more. In conclusion, he fell flat and heavily upon the deck. When I ran to uplift him, to all appearance he was dead.

I called assistance, and, with much difficulty, we brought him to himself. Upon reviving he spoke incoherently for some time. At length we bled him and put him to bed. The next morning he was quite recovered, so far as regarded his mere bodily health. Of his mind I say nothing, of course. I avoided him during the rest of the passage, by advice of the captain, who seemed to coincide with me altogether in my views of his insanity, but cautioned me to say nothing on this head to any person on board.

Several circumstances occurred immediately after this fit of Wyatt which contributed to heighten the curiosity with which I was already possessed. Among other things, this: I had been nervous -- drank too much strong green tea, and slept ill at night -- in fact, for two nights I could not be properly said to sleep at all. Now, my state-room opened into the main cabin, or dining-room, as did those of all the single men on board. Wyatt's three rooms were in the after-cabin, which was separated from the main one by a slight sliding door, never locked even at night. As we were almost constantly on a wind, and the breeze was not a little stiff, the ship heeled to leeward very considerably; and whenever her starboard side was to leeward, the sliding door between the cabins slid open, and so remained, nobody taking the trouble to get up and shut it. But my berth was in such a position, that when my own state-room door was open, as well as the sliding door in question (and my own door was always open on account of the heat,) I could see into the after-cabin quite distinctly, and just at that portion of it, too, where were situated the state-rooms of Mr. Wyatt. Well, during two nights (not consecutive) while I lay awake, I clearly saw Mrs. W., about eleven o'clock upon each night, steal cautiously from the state-room of Mr. W., and enter the extra room, where she remained until daybreak, when she was called by her husband and went back. That they were virtually separated was clear. They had separate apartments -- no doubt in contemplation of a more permanent divorce; and here, after all I thought was the mystery of the extra state-room.

There was another circumstance, too, which interested me much. During the two wakeful nights in question, and immediately after the disappearance of Mrs. Wyatt into the extra state-room, I was attracted by certain singular cautious, subdued noises in that of her husband. After listening to them for some time, with thoughtful attention, I at length succeeded perfectly in translating their import. They were sounds occasioned by the artist in prying open the oblong box, by means of a chisel and mallet -- the latter being apparently muffled, or deadened, by some soft woollen or cotton substance in which its head was enveloped.

In this manner I fancied I could distinguish the precise moment when he fairly disengaged the lid -- also, that I could determine when he removed it altogether, and when he deposited it upon the lower berth in his room; this latter point I knew, for example, by certain slight taps which the lid made in striking against the wooden edges of the berth, as he endeavored to lay it down very gently -- there being no room for it on the floor. After this there was a dead stillness, and I heard nothing more, upon either occasion, until nearly daybreak; unless, perhaps, I may mention a low sobbing, or murmuring sound, so very much suppressed as to be nearly inaudible -- if, indeed, the whole of this latter noise were not rather produced by my own imagination. I say it seemed to resemble sobbing or sighing- but, of course, it could not have been either. I rather think it was a ringing in my own ears. Mr. Wyatt, no doubt, according to custom, was merely giving the rein to one of his hobbies -- indulging in one of his fits of artistic enthusiasm. He had opened his oblong box, in order to feast his eyes on the pictorial treasure within. There was nothing in this, however, to make him sob. I repeat, therefore, that it must have been simply a freak of my own fancy, distempered by good Captain Hardy's green tea. just before dawn, on each of the two nights of which I speak, I distinctly heard Mr. Wyatt replace the lid upon the oblong box, and force the nails into their old places by means of the muffled mallet. Having done this, he issued from his state-room, fully dressed, and proceeded to call Mrs. W. from hers.

We had been at sea seven days, and were now off Cape Hatteras, when there came a tremendously heavy blow from the southwest. We were, in a measure, prepared for it, however, as the weather had been holding out threats for some time. Every thing was made snug, alow and aloft; and as the wind steadily freshened, we lay to, at length, under spanker and foretopsail, both double-reefed.

In this trim we rode safely enough for forty-eight hours -- the ship proving herself an excellent sea-boat in many respects, and shipping no water of any consequence. At the end of this period, however, the gale had freshened into a hurricane, and our after -- sail split into ribbons, bringing us so much in the trough of the water that we shipped several prodigious seas, one immediately after the other. By this accident we lost three men overboard with the caboose, and nearly the whole of the larboard bulwarks. Scarcely had we recovered our senses, before the foretopsail went into shreds, when we got up a storm stay -- sail and with this did pretty well for some hours, the ship heading the sea much more steadily than before.

The gale still held on, however, and we saw no signs of its abating. The rigging was found to be ill-fitted, and greatly strained; and on the third day of the blow, about five in the afternoon, our mizzen-mast, in a heavy lurch to windward, went by the board. For an hour or more, we tried in vain to get rid of it, on account of the prodigious rolling of the ship; and, before we had succeeded, the carpenter came aft and announced four feet of water in the hold. To add to our dilemma, we found the pumps choked and nearly useless.

All was now confusion and despair -- but an effort was made to lighten the ship by throwing overboard as much of her cargo as could be reached, and by cutting away the two masts that remained. This we at last accomplished -- but we were still unable to do any thing at the pumps; and, in the meantime, the leak gained on us very fast.

At sundown, the gale had sensibly diminished in violence, and as the sea went down with it, we still entertained faint hopes of saving ourselves in the boats. At eight P. M., the clouds broke away to windward, and we had the advantage of a full moon -- a piece of good fortune which served wonderfully to cheer our drooping spirits.

After incredible labor we succeeded, at length, in getting the longboat over the side without material accident, and into this we crowded the whole of the crew and most of the passengers. This party made off immediately, and, after undergoing much suffering, finally arrived, in safety, at Ocracoke Inlet, on the third day after the wreck.

Fourteen passengers, with the captain, remained on board, resolving to trust their fortunes to the jolly-boat at the stern. We lowered it without difficulty, although it was only by a miracle that we prevented it from swamping as it touched the water. It contained, when afloat, the captain and his wife, Mr. Wyatt and party, a Mexican officer, wife, four children, and myself, with a negro valet.

We had no room, of course, for any thing except a few positively necessary instruments, some provisions, and the clothes upon our backs. No one had thought of even attempting to save any thing more. What must have been the astonishment of all, then, when having proceeded a few fathoms from the ship, Mr. Wyatt stood up in the stern-sheets, and coolly demanded of Captain Hardy that the boat should be put back for the purpose of taking in his oblong box!

"Sit down, Mr. Wyatt," replied the captain, somewhat sternly, "you will capsize us if you do not sit quite still. Our gunwhale is almost in the water now."

"The box!" vociferated Mr. Wyatt, still standing -- "the box, I say! Captain Hardy, you cannot, you will not refuse me. Its weight will be but a trifle -- it is nothing- mere nothing. By the mother who bore you -- for the love of Heaven -- by your hope of salvation, I implore you to put back for the box!"

The captain, for a moment, seemed touched by the earnest appeal of the artist, but he regained his stern composure, and merely said:

"Mr. Wyatt, you are mad. I cannot listen to you. Sit down, I say, or you will swamp the boat. Stay -- hold him -- seize him! -- he is about to spring overboard! There -- I knew it -- he is over!"

As the captain said this, Mr. Wyatt, in fact, sprang from the boat, and, as we were yet in the lee of the wreck, succeeded, by almost superhuman exertion, in getting hold of a rope which hung from the fore-chains. In another moment he was on board, and rushing frantically down into the cabin.

In the meantime, we had been swept astern of the ship, and being quite out of her lee, were at the mercy of the tremendous sea which was still running. We made a determined effort to put back, but our little boat was like a feather in the breath of the tempest. We saw at a glance that the doom of the unfortunate artist was sealed.

As our distance from the wreck rapidly increased, the madman (for as such only could we regard him) was seen to emerge from the companion -- way, up which by dint of strength that appeared gigantic, he dragged, bodily, the oblong box. While we gazed in the extremity of astonishment, he passed, rapidly, several turns of a three-inch rope, first around the box and then around his body. In another instant both body and box were in the sea -- disappearing suddenly, at once and forever.

We lingered awhile sadly upon our oars, with our eyes riveted upon the spot. At length we pulled away. The silence remained unbroken for an hour. Finally, I hazarded a remark.

"Did you observe, captain, how suddenly they sank? Was not that an exceedingly singular thing? I confess that I entertained some feeble hope of his final deliverance, when I saw him lash himself to the box, and commit himself to the sea."

"They sank as a matter of course," replied the captain, "and that like a shot. They will soon rise again, however -- but not till the salt melts."

"The salt!" I ejaculated.

"Hush!" said the captain, pointing to the wife and sisters of the deceased. "We must talk of these things at some more appropriate time."

We suffered much, and made a narrow escape, but fortune befriended us, as well as our mates in the long-boat. We landed, in fine, more dead than alive, after four days of intense distress, upon the beach opposite Roanoke Island. We remained here a week, were not ill-treated by the wreckers, and at length obtained a passage to New York.

About a month after the loss of the "Independence," I happened to meet Captain Hardy in Broadway. Our conversation turned, naturally, upon the disaster, and especially upon the sad fate of poor Wyatt. I thus learned the following particulars.

The artist had engaged passage for himself, wife, two sisters and a servant. His wife was, indeed, as she had been represented, a most lovely, and most accomplished woman. On the morning of the fourteenth of June (the day in which I first visited the ship), the lady suddenly sickened and died. The young husband was frantic with grief -- but circumstances imperatively forbade the deferring his voyage to New York. It was necessary to take to her mother the corpse of his adored wife, and, on the other hand, the universal prejudice which would prevent his doing so openly was well known. Nine-tenths of the passengers would have abandoned the ship rather than take passage with a dead body.

In this dilemma, Captain Hardy arranged that the corpse, being first partially embalmed, and packed, with a large quantity of salt, in a box of suitable dimensions, should be conveyed on board as merchandise. Nothing was to be said of the lady's decease; and, as it was well understood that Mr. Wyatt had engaged passage for his wife, it became necessary that some person should personate her during the voyage. This the deceased lady's-maid was easily prevailed on to do. The extra state-room, originally engaged for this girl during her mistress' life, was now merely retained. In this state-room the pseudo-wife, slept, of course, every night. In the daytime she performed, to the best of her ability, the part of her mistress -- whose person, it had been carefully ascertained, was unknown to any of the passengers on board.

My own mistake arose, naturally enough, through too careless, too inquisitive, and too impulsive a temperament. But of late, it is a rare thing that I sleep soundly at night. There is a countenance which haunts me, turn as I will. There is an hysterical laugh which will forever ring within my ears.

-THE END-

Anna's Story - Part Five

Everyone is laughing, singing and clapping.  Anna sips her tea as she winks at Peter.  He comes over, kisses her forehead and squeezes her shoulder.

“I love you, Ma.” 

Her eyes begin to water.  She doesn’t ‘hear’ the words often yet he shows his love every day, just like his father. She sits watching the youngest showing off with somersaults, her mind drifts to the day Steve proposed.

It was the end of October, 1930. It was Indian summer.  The week before had been cold and damp.  The trees were bursting with color.  Red, gold and orange leaves gently falling around them.  Anna had packed a picnic for them. She was sure it would be their last before winter.  Stephen drove them out to the country in the used Parkard he had bought at the beginning of summer.

The quilt was spread on a blanket of leaves.  Stephen seemed quiet to Anna.  He normally would out talk her about the plans he had.  She asked several times if he was alright. 

“Let’s go for a walk Anna.”

As they walked, Anna chattered on about her new job as a bookbinder.  She enjoyed the work.  She enjoyed even more the freedom having her own money gave her.  She gave her parents money then put the extra left in a mason jar inside her winter boots.  She would take money out now and again to buy material for a new dress or a wedding gift for a friend getting married.  Anna wanted to make sure she had money for a rainy day.  The depression had frightened her.

“Anna? Anna? Anna!” Stephen finally stopped walking and pulled Anna to a stop next to him.

“I love to listen to you.  But Anna, I have something important to say.”

“Sorry, go ahead then.  Something is wrong, I’ve had the feeling all day.”

“No”, Stephen said.  Anna could see his mind was somewhere else.  “Nothing is wrong.  In fact, I hope everything is going to be right.  I had a talk with your father after church last week.  Anna, he has given me your hand, if you will have me.”

Anna hid a smile, she knew it was coming.  Her mother had mentioned the talk between Papa and Steve.  As she was saying yes, Stephen was putting the ring on her finger.  It fit her perfectly.

The rest of the afternoon was spent talking about their future.  By the time they reached Anna’s house, they had decided on a February wedding. 

Christmas was spent with Anna’s family.  Stephen’s family was still in Europe.  They wouldn’t be making the trip for the wedding.  Anna was disappointed.

There was a large box under the tree for her.  Stephen took pictures as she opened it.  Inside was a notebook titled “Steve’s Favorites” filled with recipes. There was a photo album filled with pictures of people she would soon be related to.  Wrapped carefully at the bottom of the box was white netting.  It was so delicate.  It was trimmed with a crochet boarder.  It was at least ten feet long.

“Steve?  Your mother did this for me?” Anna was holding back the tears.

Stephen laughed.  “She has been working on this since I told her I saw you walking passed the house.  I’ve written her every week and sent so many pictures.  She feels she knows you.”

“I will cherish this always.”

During the weeks before the wedding, Stephen bought his bride her wedding gift; a house on the edge of the city.  He missed having his family with him so insisted on having her parents live with them.

The day finally arrived.  Anna wasn’t nervous.  She was just excited.  As the organ began to play, Celeste began her walk down the long aisle of the church.  Andrew took another last look at his prinzessin.

“You finally have your gypsy.  You can always change your mind. Say the word and we can leave”

“No Papa, I’m very sure.” She touched his hand, “It’s time.”

When asked who gave the bride away, through tears, Andrew gave her hand to Stephen. 

Stephen leaned down to Anna’s cheek, “It seems a life time passed waiting for you.”

Peter saw Anna smile and close her eyes.  He took her hand and knew his mother was gone.  He knew she was happy where she was by the smile.  He’d seen that smile on her face every time she looked at his father. 

He kissed her forehead, “Happy birthday, Ma.”

Anna's Story - Part Four

When Stephen kissed her, she felt week in the knees and felt her heart race.  None of her beaus had ever made her feel this way.  As he pulled away, she looked deep into his eyes.  This was her Gypsy after all.  One day, he would be hers and hers alone.

Stephen asked to see her again the day but she couldn’t.  She quickly asked him for Sunday dinner.  He agreed.  She smiled, turned and went through the door.    She saw a quick movement from the corner of her eye as her father had just made it to his chair.

“I’ve invited Stephen to supper”, she said walking over to her father.  He sat in his favorite chair.  She came up from behind him and hugged him around the neck.

“Please behave!” she scolded as she kissed the top of his bald head.

With the arm he had left from the railroad accident a few years before, he hugged her back. 

Winking at his wife, he told Anna, “It will be painful mein Tochter, very painful.”

With that, she swatted the top of his head and floated up the stairs to bed.  She dreamed of her future. 

Spring cleaning completed and the afternoon meal started, Anna and her parents walked to mass.  Her head was fixed forward as her eyes searched for Stephen. She spotted him with a group of young men from the parish.  He glanced. She quickly moved her gaze to the doorway of the church.  She felt herself blush. It seemed to grow from her toes. 

She thought to herself, “What could he possibly see in a girl like me?  I’m such a child, blushing at the sight of him,”

Stephen glanced in Anna’s direction and saw her blush.  He pretended he was talking to his friends but watched her every move. 

“Talk to you later, I have someone I have to talk to”, said Stephen as he walked away from his friends.   He didn’t walk up Anna but up to her father asked permission to court his daughter.  Permission was reluctantly given. 

And so their courtship began.  They spent most of their time together on the porch or in the parlor where Anna’s father kept a watchful eye on the two of them.  Mary knew her daughter wanted to be alone with Stephen and did her best to distract her husband.  Stephen saw Anna every day after work.  He would stop and she would have a plate ready for him.  It had become customary he read the paper to Mary in her native German.  He managed to capture the hearts of both of Andrew’s women.

Anna’s graduation and eighteenth birthday came and went.  There was no need for a chaperone.  She and Stephen stopped sitting on the porch. They took long rides in the country. They’d talk of about the future.  By the end of summer, the two saw each other every day.   

Anna looks around the room at her family.  She knows Steve would be proud of them too.   They were all strong and happy.  As she reaches for her tea, Heidi touches her hand and smiles, you look so happy Oma.”

“Who wouldn’t be with all the love in this room?”

Anna's Story - Part Three

He stood in the shadows of the front porch, smoking a cigarette.  He watched the girls walk by the house.  Normally, Stephen wouldn’t be home this time of day.  But today was his day of independence.  He was becoming a citizen of the United States.  This past year left him very little time to be social.  He came to this country, leaving everything behind after the war.  There wasn’t much left.  He wanted more for himself than he would have had in Europe.  He had been living with friends of his parents for the past year.  He worked for the railroad during the day and went to school at night.  He was ready to bust, he wanted to be out on his own.

He never noticed her before today.  She was beautiful. She had dark brown hair that shined like chestnuts in the sun.  She wore it n the flapper bob popular at the time.  Her eyes were as dark as a doe’s and had the same look of innocence.  Her cheeks were blushed with the kiss of the wind.  Her laugh sounded like glass wind chimes, delicate as it filled the air.  This girl stirred something in him he hadn’t felt since coming to America or back home for that matter.  He wanted to get to know her. 

A few weeks later, there was a community dance at Sacred Heart.  Stephen decided to attend but did not take a date. He was hoping they would meet.  He had been late to work a few times, waiting, wanting to see her as she went by.   He knew her name was Anna.  He had asked around the neighborhood.  Everyone knew her.  She was very popular with the young and old.  Anna was a good Catholic girl from a good family.  The more he heard, the more he wanted to know.  

The basement of the church was decorated for the spring dance.  Flowers from Easter were used as centerpieces.  The tables were covered in white linen sprinkled with petals.  Paper streamers hung from the ceiling at the support poles. They looked like maypoles to be danced around.  Mr. Stueben, carpenter and neighborhood handy man, created a gazebo to use as the dance floor. More streamers and flowers sprayed the gazebo.  Chinese lanterns were hung from the ceiling among the streamers, giving the impression of a soft, warm spring day in a country meadow.  Spring had been cold and wet. Cabin fever set in the last blizzard. The neighborhood was ready to venture outdoors to see their neighbors.  Stephen had become friends with one of Anna’s neighbors so he would have a proper introduction to her.

“Stephen, my boy”, Mr. Drawer bellowed.  He was doing his best to be discreet with his introductions. He was not an expert at being discreet.  “Please meet Anna; she is the daughter of my good friends, Andrew and Mary.  I’m sure she will be happy to introduce you to the other young people here at the dance.”

“Anna, the pleasure is mine.” Stephen took her hand in his, kissed it softly.  “It would please me very much if I could be your escort this evening. Unless, of course, you are here with someone.”

He knew she was alone with her parents.  Several young men asked Anna but she had turned them all down. 

Anna replied, “Of course, I would be happy to you to around.  I see the Bloombergs and the Sonnenfelds over there, both very prominent.  Both have lovely daughters.  I am assuming it’s the reason for the introductions.”

“No”, leaning toward her, he whispered, “the reason for the introduction was to meet you.  I could think of no other way.”

“Humpft, maybe coming up to me and saying, ‘Hello, my name is Stephen Zak…oh”, she gasped.  She forgot Mr. Drawert did not mention his last name.  A blush came to her cheeks.  He smiled down at her, knowing then that she was just as interested in him.  She was outspoken which interested him even more.  He spent the rest of the evening holding her in his arms as they danced.  She came only to his chest and he had to bend down to hear her.  Others tried to cut in but Stephen had not allowed it.  It was clear she was his. As the night began to wind down, Stephen asked Andrew if he could walk her home.  Andrew looked questioningly at Mary who nodded slightly.  He looked from his wife’s face to his daughter’s.  He found this was an argument he would lose if he tried.  He felt as if Anna was slipping through his fingers, but also felt the need to let go of her. 

He took Stephen’s hand in his own and said, “Fine, bring her home safe.”

Once outside, Stephen placed his coat around Anna’s shoulders and kept his arm there a bit longer than he needed.  He ran his right hand down her left arm slowly.  He took her hand in his, her fingers curled around his.  They walked hand in hand slowly toward her home. As they walked, she gave a small history of who lived in this house or who owned that store.  He could have listened to her for hours.  Her voice was as sweet as a lullaby.  The walk ended much faster than he wanted it to.  As they reached her front door, he turned her to face him.  They stood there, Anna looking up at him.  Her eyes searching his; she had looked into his soul.  Stephen cupped her face in his hands and brought his mouth down over hers.  He kissed her gently.

As he pulled away from her, Stephen saw his future in Anna’s eyes.  Tonight he knew he found the woman he would spend the rest of his life with.  Walking backward toward the street, he asked if he could call on her the next day.

“No, I’m busy. I have to help with the spring cleaning.”  She saw the hurt expression on his face, even in the shadows.  “But, please come over after mass on Sunday.”

Smiling, he called out, “Nothing would please me more.  See you then.”

Anna turned to go into the house.  Stephen turned and found he was walking with a bounce in his step and he could still taste her sweet lips on his as he whistled on his way home.

Anna's Story - Part Two

 The crowd parts like the Red Sea as she makes her way to the parlor.

“Mein leibhaber, mein Zigeuner, my Steve!” her voice cracks with emotion and age.   A life-size portrait of her husband stands before her.  She has been widowed for over 50 years and never stopped loving or missing him.  He is her gypsy. The man she fell in love with all those long years ago.

Heidi had the life-size photo of her grandfather made from an old wedding photograph for the party.  There were also enlargements of other missing family members who have been gone so very long.  Pictures of Anna’s parents, her brothers and their wives are placed around the room.   Her sister, Mary, gone 100 years, is the only one missing.  Anna never met her older sister and there were no pictures of her.  As Anna stands there, her family begins surrounding her.  Her favorite great-granddaughter and Heidi’s youngest, Katrina, is standing next to her. 

“Grandma, are you okay?  You look like you have seen a ghost.” Katrina slips her arm around Anna’s waist giving her a gentle hug.

Anna’s voice cracks as she replies, “Yes, Trina. I am just lost in my memories.”

“Come, sit down and I’ll fix you a cup of tea.  Relax and have fun.” says Katrina.

As Heidi wheels in the cake, ablaze with 90 candles, Anna looks into Heidi’s eyes.  Heidi sees how pleased Oma is but also sees something else, a flicker.  It’s like a candle almost blown out in the wind.  As Anna’s family gathers around the cake and sings, Anna’s thoughts move back over her long life.  She grew up in what was known as The Valley.  The neighborhood is still called that.  Her granddaughters call her ‘The Original Valley Girl’.  At the time, the neighborhood was filled of Hun-Austrian immigrants.  Her parents had moved back and forth from Austria to America several times before her Papa told her Mother to choose a country.  With Europe on the brink of The Great War, American was where they would make their permanent home.

When she was a young woman in her late teens, a family from Czechoslovakia had moved into the neighborhood.  With them they brought a border; a young man of 20.   To Anna, the gypsy was the most handsome man she ever laid eyes on.

 Anna went to the Catholic school in her neighborhood with her best friend, Celeste.  She had them changed their route to school in order to pass the Gypsy’s house.

Leaning toward Anna, Celeste whispered, “Ann, I don’t understand why you have to take the long way to school.  That new fella goes to work very early in the morning.  He’s been gone for hours!”

“Yes, I know Celeste, you tell me that every morning.” Anna said with a sigh. “What if he is late one day?  I want you to see him, he’s so handsome.  I’ve decided to marry a gypsy like him someday.”

Celeste rolled her eyes.  “And you tell me that every morning!”

Just about a month away from graduation Anna and Celeste had their heads together; whispering in low voices to one another.  Anna felt eyes on her.  It was almost as if they were burning into her soul.  She looked over her shoulder. The gypsy was watching her.   She never told Celeste. After a year of taking the detour she never stopped complaining of the extra blocks.  She looked into his eyes; certain he would be the gypsy she would marry. 

Peter’s voice brought her back from the past.

“Ma, it’s time to open presents.  Are you feeling alright?  You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine Peter.  Let’s get the young ones to help this Old Grandma open this mountain.”

Anna's Story - Part One

April rain is beating against Anna’s windowpane.  She stands staring but not seeing the garden.  As she finishes getting ready for yet another birthday, she finds it so unbelievable the years have gone so quickly.

She buried her parents, brothers, and husband.  While her mind feels like thirty something, her body feels all of its 90 years.  As memories race though her mind, there is a knock on her door.  Her son, Peter, and his family planned this milestone party.

“Milestone”, she thinks.  “A party for outliving my friends and most of my family?”

Anna opens the door for Peter.  He looks so much like his father.  As he bends down to kiss her cheek, he says, “Are you ready, Ma?  Everyone is waiting for you to start the party.   You look beautiful tonight, the belle of the ball.”

She clicks her tongue.  “A belle he says; a tarnished bell!”

With his help, they descend the stairs to the foyer below.  What is left of her family and friends have gathered around the foot of the stairs.  Almost 100 years ago, her beloved Papa would have called her his prinzessin; tonight she feels every inch the queen.

Anna looks around.  Her son, his wife and their five children, their spouses, all the grandchildren, nieces and nephews and their families have gathered to celebrate her birth.

She goes to each one, caresses his or her face with her hands and cries out, Oh! Mein libeling!”  Each one accepts her caress as a loving kiss.  Of course, the younger ones squirm a bit, but enjoy their Oma more than they will let on.

Anna’s eyes move from her youngest grandson to the parlor just beyond the French doors.  The sight brings tears to her eyes.

Healthier Me

I've chosen a healthier lifestyle for reasons, which for the moment escapes me. I've come to the conclusion the next time someone passes over and hear the phrase, "He was so healthy", I'll have an idea what killed him.  It was the healthy lifestyle.

My quest for a healthy self being was purely by accident. I had come down with severe bronchitis. Ugly bronchitis I might add. So ugly in fact, my family thought I was dying. I thought I was dying. The thought of becoming a single parent terrified my husband. The thought of becoming any kind of parent scared him. He's the self proclaimed "good cop" in this parent union. And while I'm sure my daughter loves me, I am the bank and taxi. She experienced firsthand what it was like to have Dad as both of these. The bank was always closed and the taxi service was limited at best. To be honest, if it weren't for the two of them, I often wonder if I would still be here. My husband took me to and from doctor appointments, had prescriptions filled and actually cooked.

If you have ever had an albuteral treatment, you know having a cigarette is like having your lungs set on fire. As a result of the bout, I stopped smoking.   I'd tried before without success; mostly from fear. Fear of having a heart attack like my father did when he quit. Fear of gaining a ridiculous amount of weight...which I did. Twenty months after I "kicked" the smoking habit, I thought the so called experts where all quacks. I did not feel better. Friends and family who had quit all told me it took a year to really feel better. It didn't. I was feeling worse. It was the ridiculous amount of weight I gained. I'd added about 50 extra pounds.  And I’m no Twiggy to begin with!  Of course I knew I had to lose that weight. And lose it without picking up a cigarette again.

Then it happened. I schlepped up to my desk at work, dropped my bags and saw the flyer sitting there.

BIGGEST LOSER

$10.00 Entrance fee

First place, the growing weekly pot

Second place, your $10 entry fee

Two in last place each week pays $2.00 each

You know it's amazing what cash and public humiliation will do as a motivator. I put my ten dollar bill in the hands of a co-worker. No turning back now. I was escorted to the scales; eyes closed. I knew I was overweight but didn't want or have the need to see how overweight. I didn't want to know. The first week I lost five pounds. The second, I gained one. With that, changes really needed to be made.

Thanks to the internet, I have learned more than I would have ever if we didn't have it. I have learned the basics of shooting, fly fishing, cleaning trout, finding my family history and how to diet.

After surfing site after site and linking to link after link one thing became clear....you have to eat to lose weight! Who knew? Okay, most of you knew but who BELIEVED? It's true. I have to eat a set amount of calories each day. That leads me to my next least favorite thing, counting calories. Boring, very boring. However, because of technology, we now have smartphones. Phones which are smarter than a fifth grader! Phones with applications. More surfing, just call me Gidget.  I found the perfect app and it links to an internet site.  The best part?  It practically does everything for me.  Calories are now counted and totaled before my very eyes.

It also became evident exercise is also an important factor in this road to my lifestyle change. I'd rather have open heart surgery.  Oh, wait a minute.  I'm doing all this to avoid open heart surgery.  Let the walking begin.  The first week was a push and I was short of breath on a regular basis.  But the walks began getting longer and the shortness of breath less. My daughter has seen the slow improvement in my health; she now walks with me.  After glares which have been known to stop trains in their tracks, my husband fixed our bikes and we pedal our way through the "hood" at least once a week.  My adventures in exercise will most definitely be an upcoming blog.

So here I am, two months into my healthy lifestyle; 28 pounds lighter.  I've learned from this experience. Healthy is hard.  Healthy is time consuming.  Healthy is the support and prayers I have from friends and family.  Healthy will probably not really kill me.  And most important, if I don't win the contest jackpot?  Healthy will be me.