Dancing In a Jar (18 page)

Oh my heavens what a stench! The oil is made by putting fresh cod livers in a barrel with seawater. It is left to ferment and the oil rises to the top where it is scooped off and bottled. At certain times of the year, schoolchildren come by the factory and get their cod liver oil on the way to school—right out of the barrel. Uncle Louis made me take mine right from the barrel this morning. I took that as a compliment that he thinks I’m tough enough to have it like the locals. I barely choked it down, but with him and Barbara watching
I really didn’t have a choice. He gave me a bottle to take home. I think that deserves a care package from my sister containing Fannie Farmer cookies or a mocha iced cake to help wash down the cod liver oil. I will watch the Post in anticipation.

It was good to get out of there and back into the fresh air. Barbara has gotten used to the strangest smells, including the rotting capelin that is now dressing our garden. Thankfully, the red rose bush I planted last year is full of buds, so she will soon have that beautiful fragrance become part of her repertoire too. No one plants roses here. Partly that’s because the flowers take space from vegetables. It may also be because the most beautiful, lightly scented, wild roses grow all over the place. With the right breeze you can sit outside and think you are in the New York Botanical Garden.

I’m sure your flower stories can make mine look paltry, so I will stop now. Barbara is waiting for dinner and we are both expecting Don home soon.

The mine is going great guns. For the first time since we arrived almost two years ago, Don is starting to look relaxed. Apparently, Siebert has found orders from the U.S. likely resulting from the talk of war in Europe. I find it so sad that we need a war to bring prosperity. So many people will be hurt and damaged forever and others will benefit. I simply can’t think about it.

On that unsettled note, I will finish this and get it to the mail boat for tomorrow.

All my love to you three,
Urla

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

July 4, 1935

Dear Mom and Pop,

Happy Fourth of July to you all! No holiday here for us, of course, and I’ve just come home for lunch. We have been so busy at the mine and the new mill that I have been getting home late every evening. Urla has been patient, but I thought I would not push my luck and came home early today.

She insists that we have Sunday afternoon together no matter if the mine is falling in on itself. We walk up behind our house a little ways and set up our picnic. I usually fish for trout in the little brook and Urla gathers handfuls of wildflowers. She has given up trying to teach me their names, so now she’s working on Barbara, who frankly looks more interested in my fishing than the flowers. She is very much her Daddy’s girl.

Urla is just putting Barbara down for a nap and then lying down herself. She has been getting more headaches than I remember but waves me off and says it’s nothing. Now that school is out there are lots of young girls to come by and take Barbara for an afternoon walk, so that is helping Urla to rest.

I have sent two silver fox pelts home for Mom and Edith. I’m sure if Pop takes them into the city you can find a good furrier in the rag trade to make them into whatever you want. In fact, why not ask Sol Allan up the street? He is bound to have good contacts.

We have a new fellow in town and the young women have gone mad. The Commission Government has established a new police force for the outports called the Newfoundland Ranger Force. Robert Tilley is quite a handsome lad, tall and well built, but I’m not sure he could do much against any man in this town. They have a lot of duties, so we will see how is all goes. Mostly the young women are thrilled at the chance of a new dance partner!

Hope you are all enjoying a good day at the beach and old glory is flying high.

Love from Urla and me,
Donald

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

July 31, 1935

Dear Mom, Pop, Howard, Vi, and Edith,

Don tells me you have been having a wonderful summer at Oak Beach. I can picture you all there with the sun on the water and the warm sand under your feet. I laugh at the memory of us trying to coax King into the ocean a couple of years ago and he having no part of it. I hope you’re having better luck this year.

Barbara’s first experience of a sandy beach couldn’t be further from Oak Beach. There is a beautiful sheltered cove with a full sand beach just north of St. Lawrence. When the weather is warm and the women can steal a few hours from the never-ending work of summer, a group of them will come calling, children in tow, and off we go to Shoal Cove. Usually we get a ride in the back of the mine truck or someone’s horse and wagon.

What a beautiful spot it is. The dunes are ringed by masses of blue and yellow irises and a river runs through them down to the sea. The water is very shallow and unbelievably cold. I’ve been in up to my knees, but when everything goes blue I figure it’s time to get out!

We all settle in one area and out come blankets and picnics. The children usually wear underwear (not sure if anyone here has a bathing suit) and often keep their wool sweaters on top. They dash into the waves, scream with delight as the freezing water hits their white ankles, and run back up to their mothers. The women sit on rough old wool blankets, smoking or chatting with bandannas tied on their heads to keep the wind at bay. Barbara sits in amongst them
all, usually licking the molasses off someone’s fresh bread, and kept entertained by watching everyone.

It’s a wonderful scene. I’ve decided that something about the beach makes people happy and it doesn’t seem to matter what the temperature is. In fact, I’m starting to wonder whether they find the bracing water here more satisfying than we find Oak Beach. Or maybe these people simply find everything more satisfying.

My garden is coming along although slowly. At least I have learned my lesson not to plant anything with a long growing season. Don still kids me about last year’s dwarf corn and green tomatoes. He says this year everything will come out in perfect size for Barbara, which I think is an insult to how big I can grow things! I hope to show him wrong.

So stay tuned for more garden news.

In the meantime, we send lots of love from our beach to yours.

As ever,
Urla

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

August 17, 1935

Dear Ivah,

I was so happy to hear from you last week. Your trip to Sandy Hook with John and his parents sounded lovely. Is it as serious as it sounds? Do Mother and Daddy like him? I haven’t heard anything about him from home, so that may be a good or bad thing! I hope you are happy, dear one.

The air is getting cooler here and I’m afraid that signals an early close to summer. I enjoyed a wonderful long walk this morning while Barbara was looked after by a neighbor girl. I was roaming the beach hoping to find a message in a bottle. I would dearly love to find one
containing some classified military information or a lover’s poem or an SOS. Maybe I’ll prepare one myself and send it on its way.

No sooner was I thinking that when I came up on some dead creatures on the beach. There in front of me was a seal and a sheep on the same stretch—one thrown up from the sea and the other having fallen into it, meeting here in an incongruous fashion. Did they meet before they died? Exchange glances? Exchange pleas for help? Perhaps they comforted each other. I would love to know their story.

We have just finished supper and Don is home early tonight for a change. He is working so hard and thankfully has finished some long overdue improvements at the mine site. I don’t like to talk to him about work too much, but it was truly awful that the men had no toilet facilities or change rooms. So that is some improvement.

Write me more about this special John when you can. Barbara sends her Aunt Vivi big delicious hugs, as do I.

Love,
Urla

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

August 31, 1935

Dear Mom and Pop,

I realize my correspondence has been slow, but we are going full throttle with this operation while the weather is good and I have time for little else.

Turns out my salmon fishing trip at the end of July will have to be my only one for the year. Thankfully it was a fruitful one and, Pop, I can’t wait to take you to the Cape Roger river. I caught a couple of twelve pound beauties, and on our last day we hit a run of smaller ones making their way to the head of the river. They gave quite the fight, but in the end we won. Urla was very pleased to
have fresh salmon for a few days. By the way, Barbara now eats everything we do, with twice the appetite.

If Siebert can clinch the deal with the Wilmington steel companies I’m hoping for a raise and then I will treat myself to a new rod for next season.

I’m a little concerned about Urla’s health. She is still getting headaches and the other night seemed quite lost during our regular game of bridge. She isn’t worried and says it is just fatigue. That doc from the next community will be in town next week and I will get him to have a look at her. I know you sometimes see the Crammonds at church, but please don’t mention anything to them. I don’t want to alarm them unnecessarily.

Otherwise, we three are doing well. The fresh salt air agrees with Barbara and she is thriving. We can’t wait for her to start talking as she is surrounded by children who say “tings” and “tink.” You might have to get a translator for when we visit.

The mail boat is coming more often now, so you should receive this in jig time. Hope you all have a good last weekend at the beach.

As ever,
Donald

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

September 1, 1935

Hello Mother,

Barbara and I are making jam today and it made me think of doing the same with you when I was little. I remember fresh raspberries and red currants and you straining the jelly through cheesecloth.

Our operation is a little rougher here and I have to admit that putting Barbara on quality control was probably not a good idea. We are making blueberry and partridgeberry jam with every
berry picked by us, and a few twigs and leaves for good measure. Berry picking is a major affair here with the kids going with their pickers, older ones with their dippers, and adults with buckets and flour sacks.

I buy my bread from a neighbor since I simply can’t make it like any woman in town. I can tell you there is no better taste than her warm bread, fresh butter, and our jam. I may send some home for Christmas so you can give me your opinion.

I wonder if you could look around my old bedroom for the scarf you gave me when we first left Brooklyn? I can’t find it anywhere, so I may have it there. Please let me know as I am worried about it.

I’m glad you both like John, and I hope this one stays around longer then a month! Ivah seems very happy.

Love to you both,
Urla

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

September 12, 1935

Dear Ivah,

I had to quickly write you. I walked along the beach this morning and what do you think I found? A message in a bottle. My heart raced as I sat on a rock and opened it. Wouldn’t you know it was my own message, sent a few weeks ago and now come right back to me. So much for it being found by a handsome Greek sailor.

Love,
Urla

St. Lawrence, Newfoundland

September 26, 1935

Dear Mom and Pop,

Thanks for continuing the subscription to the
Herald Tribune
. We have both enjoyed all the reading within. Coupled with our nightly radio broadcasts, we are becoming the town source for news. Events in Europe are looking worrisome, but I’m glad to hear Roosevelt’s New Deal is finally showing results at home.

Pop’s new office in Philadelphia sounds like the right move for the times. I guess it was there you met Dan Rayburn. He wrote me a peppy letter about new work opportunities in civil. I told him to keep me in the loop, but right now I’m up to my neck in mining engineering and couldn’t be happier.

Urla has become a master plucker! Mrs. Annie Turpin came to her rescue when I brought home twenty-six partridge on the weekend. I joined a couple of local men and a visiting doctor for a few days on the barrens and we were rewarded handsomely. We had good weather too and spent long days covering the bogs and outcrops. Urla didn’t look too pleased when I landed back at the house with a bag of birds under my arm. Now she has the trick for plucking and made a delicious stew yesterday.

I have an opportunity to hunt caribou in November. A hundred caribou licenses were issued to Americans last year and they have been coming here since 1904 to hunt. I would love to join a group and get my first caribou.

Our doctor friend gave Urla a good going over and can’t find anything obvious to explain her symptoms. The big worry here is tuberculosis and Newfoundland has had a disproportionate number of cases. They just opened up a diagnostic lab in St. John’s if we need it. But he checked out her lungs and they seemed clear to him. Hopefully it will resolve itself. She is being her normal stoic self about it all.

Barbara is thriving and we feel certain she will walk before her first birthday. She sends love to her grandparents.

Love to all from us,
Donald

245 Hillside Avenue
Nutley, New Jersey

October 12, 1935

Dear Urla,

Your father went into the drugstore very early this morning (in fact it was still dark out) so I have some free time for letter writing. He is working so hard still and they seem to have trouble attracting another pharmacist to work outside the city. All the new graduates want to be in the bright lights of New York.

On the other hand, Hoffman-La Roche is moving to a spot just outside Nutley. They will be producing thousands of medicines in that plant, so we will probably have lots of young families around the place then.