June 1944
By the middle of June the garden was full of vegetable plants. It had some weeds too, but still, I thought my daddy would be proud.
He wrote every couple of weeks. We got a letter the third week of June.
Dear family,
My eyes are sore for the sight of women and children. Especially my woman and my children. And the blue sky and red clay of Carolina would be a wondrous sight too.
I know you hear on the radio what’s going on in the war. We’re making progress in our mission, but the Germans won’t stop fighting even when they’re licked. So I may be here longer than we thought. War is terrible.
I’m glad to hear the peas done good. Ann Fay, you do me proud the way you’re filling those overalls.
Bobby, I have your drawings in my pack, and I take them out and look at them whenever I get a minute. It makes me feel almost like I’m home.
Ida and Ellie, Momma says you done good in school. I’m right proud of every one of you.
All my love,
Daddy
We wrote Daddy every week, and every so often we sent him a package with comforts like soap and chewing gum and cigarettes.
Whenever we sent one of them packages, Bobby dumped his box of crayons out on the kitchen table. He drew pictures of tigers and other wild animals on his drawing tablet. We always asked Bobby what message he wanted us to write on his pictures. Every time, he said the same thing. “Tell Daddy, ‘Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.’”
I kept wondering if Daddy had took part in D-Day. That was the day—June 6—when our boys landed on the beaches of France and started taking that country back from the big bully, Hitler. I wondered if they would push into Germany next.
President Roosevelt come on the radio twice in June to tell us what was going on. The first time, he told how our boys and the other Allied soldiers took Rome away from the Germans. A week later, he come on to announce a new war-loan drive. That’s where ordinary Americans like me can loan money to the government for building ships and airplanes and whatever else our soldiers need. And he reminded us of all the good our money done, helping our soldiers drive back the Germans and the Japanese from all those places they had took over.
Talk of the war was everywhere. Even at church on Sundays. The preacher always said a prayer for the soldiers. There was eleven men from our church fighting in the war, not counting Lottie Scronce’s two boys that had already been killed.
Lottie cried all the way through every church service, but she kept coming. And every week she snapped open her big black pocketbook and pulled out mints for all the little children. She’d been doing that for as long as I could remember.
After I’d sweated in the garden all week, going to church was almost as good as going to the movies with Peggy Sue. Somehow it helped me get through another week just to hear Reverend Price say my daddy’s name in a prayer.
But one Sunday in the middle of June, the reverend stopped us at the church door. His red hair was damp around the edges. Little rivers of sweat was running past his ears, and his white shirt had wet circles under the arms.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Honeycutt,” he said. “I guess you hadn’t heard. We’ve canceled Sunday school.”
Momma stopped dead in her tracks. “No, I hadn’t heard.”
“There are twelve cases of polio in Catawba County right now. I thought you would have read it in the paper or heard it on the radio.”
“Oh my dear,” said Momma. She grabbed Bobby’s hand and pulled him up against her.
The reason Momma didn’t know is, we was so busy in the garden and just trying to keep up. We hadn’t been to Junior’s house to listen to the radio, except two times to hear the president’s speeches. And we don’t get the paper either. Sometimes we read our neighbors’ newspaper—the Hinkle sisters’ copy—when they’re done with it.
“All public meetings are closed to children twelve and under,” said Reverend Price.
I felt sweat running down the inside of my dress.
“And playgrounds too,” said the preacher. “And theaters and swimming pools.”
While he stood there and listed all the things we couldn’t do, I had a feeling like every good thing in my life was being taken away.
“Hopefully this will all blow over,” said Reverend Price. “Be sure to listen to WHKY today. At twelve forty-five, Dr. Whims, the county health officer, will make an announcement about polio.”
Right away Bessie Bledsoe invited us to listen at their house. But I wasn’t ready to turn around and leave. I was counting on seeing my friends. So I asked Momma could Peggy Sue come to my house to play.
Momma fluffed the back of my hair a little to let the breeze cool my neck. “Yes, honey,” she said. “Lord knows you deserve it.”
Me and Peggy Sue run to her mother, who was standing with some other women under a shade tree in the churchyard. She was fanning herself with one of them church fans put out by a funeral home. It had a picture of Jesus praying in the garden, sweating drops of blood.
“Please let her come, Mrs. Rhinehart,” I begged. “We want to wade in the creek.” I flapped my hands in front of my face, like I would just die if we couldn’t get in the water.
Mrs. Rhinehart reached in her black pocketbook and pulled out a cotton handkerchief with blue flowers embroidered on the corner. She used it to dab beads of sweat off the space between her nose and her upper lip. She got bright red lipstick on the handkerchief when she done that.
“It’s just the children under twelve that are banned,” she said. “The two of you can stay for church. Afterwards you could come to our house and get wet with the water hose. My husband can take you home this afternoon.”
But Peggy Sue wanted to come to my house, and that girl has got herself a knack for getting what she wants. So we climbed in the back of Daddy’s pickup with Ida and Ellie. Junior Bledsoe drove the truck, and his momma and mine sat up front with Bobby.
At Junior’s house we sat on the grass under a shade tree, and Bessie served us all iced tea and milk with peanut butter crackers. Bessie and Momma sat on rocking chairs on the porch.
“Have mercy,” Bessie panted. “It sure is hot.” She pulled up her apron and flapped it in her face to create a little wind. Bessie is a big woman, so it don’t take much to heat her up.
And we was all sweating today—even in the shade.
Ida and Ellie and Bobby played with Junior’s hound dogs, and Junior entertained them at the same time, trying to catch the flies buzzing around his head.
Me and Peggy Sue got tired of Junior showing off. So we went and sat on the steps when Momma and Bessie started talking about polio.
“My cousin’s child had it,” said Bessie. “One day she was frolicking like a baby goat and the next she was flat on her back. Poor baby hasn’t walked since.”
Momma shivered and I seen the goose bumps come up on her arms, even in that heat.
“It’s just awful how it paralyzes little children,” said Bessie.
Momma nodded. “And not just children. Take our president—a full-grown man when he got it. You have to wonder how a man like that gets polio.”
“My cousin has no idea how little Winnie got it,” said Bessie. “As far as any of them can remember, she never got close to anyone with polio.”
Of course, Junior being Junior, he had to get his two cents’ worth in. He come over to the porch. “Even the doctors don’t know how polio gets passed around,” he said.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Oh boy, here we go.” Thinking he’d take a hint and go back to catching flies.
But he kept right on. “Did you hear about that woman in Virginia that kept her children in the house all last summer just because someone across town came down with polio?”
Listening to them mothers worrying about polio was making me feel jittery enough without Junior piling on more bad news. “Junior Bledsoe,” I said, “how would you know what some woman in Virginia did once upon a time?”
“Well, I do listen to the radio once in a while, Ann Fay.”
“Well then, I reckon that makes you the polio expert, don’t it?”
“Now, you two,” said Momma. “We’re all a little nervous, but that’s no reason to go starting up a fight. We need to stick together in times like this.”
At twelve forty-five we went inside to hear the radio announcement. We all sat at the edge of our seats because we didn’t want to miss a word Dr. Whims said.
He declared that we had an epidemic, on account of so many cases of infantile paralysis in the state—and especially in our county. He said, “Of ten cases, four went swimming or wading and two were near water or fishing within a few days before the onset of the disease. It is advisable that adults as well as children refrain from going swimming while the epidemic is in progress.”
You should’ve heard us groan when he said that. Bessie’s thermometer was pushing a hundred degrees and the man was telling us we couldn’t go in the creek.
“Holy mackerel!” Ida wailed.
“We’re gonna die,” moaned Ellie.
Dr. Whims talked about screen doors and how we should keep flies out of the house because they might spread the disease.
“I see one,” said Bobby. He run to the screen door and tried to catch it.
“I don’t see why we can’t go swimming,” whined Ida.
“Yeah,” said Ellie. “That man is not our daddy.”
Momma said, “No, but the health officer is responsible for the whole county. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”
“Momma,” I said, “can’t me and Peggy Sue go wading one last time?”
Momma shook her head. “I could never forgive myself if you came down with polio.”
We walked home. It was only about a half-mile, but we dripped sweat the whole way. Me and Peggy Sue lagged behind the rest. “We’ll go down to the creek when your momma and the young’uns are taking their Sunday afternoon naps,” said Peggy Sue. “Let’s dam up the water with rocks and make a deep place to sit in.”
But just then we heard a car coming behind us. When we turned around, Peggy Sue said, “What’s my daddy doing here?” We stopped and waited for his shiny black car to stop beside us.
Mr. Rhinehart tipped his black hat to my momma. “Hello, Mrs. Honeycutt. Can I give you all a ride home?”
Momma laughed and pointed to our mailbox, which wasn’t a stone’s throw away. “Now, if you had come just fifteen minutes sooner,” she said.
Mr. Rhinehart laughed too. “Well, I wish I had. Brenda sent me to get Peggy Sue. I guess you heard the radio announcement about swimming. She said the girls were planning to play in the creek.”
“Yes. But I won’t let them. Don’t worry about that.”
“Please, Daddy, please let me stay,” begged Peggy Sue. “I’ll stay out of the creek. I promise.”
But I reckon her daddy knew better than to believe that. He shook his head. “Your mother’s expecting you to come home,” he said. “We’d better not disappoint her.”
“But Daddy …”
Momma nudged Peggy in the back. “Go on, child,” she said. “You can come another day. Just as soon as this passes.”
Peggy was so mad she climbed in the back seat and left her daddy up front all by himself. He turned the car around in our lane and tipped his hat again when he passed us. Peggy rolled her eyes and pouted when they went by.
The day was ruined for sure and it looked like the whole entire summer was too. I reckon me and Peggy Sue both knew it could be a long time before we saw each other again.