House of Eratosthenes

The author of this work just shucked his mortal coil this last month, and the passage therein on pp. 99-100 has special meaning to us. It is autobiographical, and it describes the divided loyalties between the urban and rural areas, felt by a family of five during a trying time in our nation’s history.

Danny, who was now driving the old Stevens and displaying an active interest in girls, needed a regular income to sustain his racy life style. I had achieved varsity status on the Prospect High basketball team and was looking for new and larger worlds to conquer. Bobby, two years my junior, had not yet exhibited the same restlessness, but soon his strong commercial inclinations would involve him in the general revolt. For the moment, however, our fathers’ firm opposition thwarted all of these noble aspirations.

Then one day Mom stunned us with an altogether unexpected announcement. As we finished our supper and prepared to troop upstairs she informed us, a trifle awkwardly, that there would soon be another place at the table.

“Who’s coming” Bobby asked. “Relatives?”

Mom and Dad exchanged a conspiratorial smile. For a change, Dad’s mood seemed less somber than it had been of late.

“Well, yes,” said mom; “but not the kind you are thinking about.”

Our mouths fell open and for once we were at a loss for words. Danny was approaching sixteen, I was fourteen, and Bobby was twelve.

“You mean a baby?” Danny finally blurted out.

“That’s right,” Mom said, obviously pleased with herself at taking us so completely by surprise. Mom was then forty-two and, by our unenlightened reckoning, light-years beyond the proper — or biologically possible — age for childbearing. Up to that moment the possibility of any further increase in our family had no more entered our minds than had the prospect of entertaining a visitor from outer space.

From that moment this great coming event dominated our every waking thought and overshadowed all other considerations. The spare room was cleared and converted into a nursery. Dad set to work making a crib. We boys were at pains, for once, to spare our mother any undue effort.
:
For the time being the dolor of the Depression was relieved at our house by the prevailing mood of expectancy. Not a little of the excitement hinged on the question of the newcomer’s sex. Another boy? Our parents looked at each other and paled. Surely, not another boy!

Ten days into the new year of 1934 a healthy, squalling baby girl arrived and settled all the speculation. She was christened Mary Ann and immediately became the center of all our attention.

The baby girl grew up to become my mother, who passed away from a brain tumor in early ’93. Of the six of them — my grandparents, Dan the Drinker, Wally the Writer, Bob the Blood Pressure and Baby Mary Ann — Uncle Wally was the last. He finally found rest on May 6.

He was also the author of The Accidental Missionaries and Defiant Peacemaker.

The Freeberg family tree has been getting hacked and whacked pretty good by this first decade of the new century. Six years ago, there were…lessee…five uncles and a grand-uncle, who are all resting now. Marriage relations aside, that leaves my Dad and one more uncle on his side. After those, my generation will be senior, then I’ll really be old. Huh. Wonder how that happened.

It’s a punch in the gut when a writer dies, whether you’re related to him or not. Any old goat can live through some events, and remember them. Only a few folks bother to jot it down as it happens…or to discipline themselves to record it accurately, if they scribble away about it afterwards. And when they’re gone, the past, including even the most precious pieces of it, becomes much more profoundly distant.

[…] There are various tidbits I picked up by reading the works of, and having conversations with, my late Uncle Wally. […]
- House of Eratosthenes | 09/28/2009 @ 19:44
[…] other end of her lifespan I’ll leave to my late Uncle Wally: Danny, who was now driving the old Stevens and displaying an active interest in girls, needed a […]
- House of Eratosthenes | 05/09/2010 @ 06:39
[…] of this Borden link because of an ancestor in the early nineteenth century who had a certain name. Uncle Wally traced us back to that guy, and then I found that name, itself, benefited from some relatives who […]
- House of Eratosthenes | 04/16/2013 @ 05:02
[…] of this Borden link because of an ancestor in the early nineteenth century who had a certain name. Uncle Wally traced us back to that guy, and then I found that name, itself, benefited from some relatives who […]
- Externalysis | Rotten Chestnuts | 04/16/2013 @ 05:16

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Wally, Exit, Stage LeftTuesday, June 3rd, 2008

Wally, Exit, Stage Left
Tuesday, June 3rd, 2008