For the Duration: The War Years (7 page)

I was excited about seeing all the art from other kids in other schools. I already knew some of the good artists at our school because Mrs. Bowers, the art teacher who came to visit every once in a while, would put the best pictures up on the bulletin boards in the hallways.

Mrs. Bowers liked my artwork. She always picked out my pictures for the bulletin board outside our classroom. She knew I was going to be an artist when I grew up.

“All right, boys and girls,” Miss Gardner said. “Line up by the door. As soon as Miss Fisher's room has gone down to the exhibition, we will be next.”

I was standing in front of Jack Rule, who was much taller than me and was one of my good friends in the class.

“We haven't been down to the auditorium and the basement since our last air-raid drill,” I whispered to him. An air-raid drill was when we had to go to a safe place in case enemy bombers came.

“Tommy!” Miss Gardner warned. I kept quiet. We went down the stairs and there was Mrs. Bowers, ready to welcome us.

“Well, well, well,” she said. “Miss Gardner's second grade. Welcome to our first citywide art exhibit. Now, take your time and look at all the wonderful pictures hanging on the walls. The names of the children who did them, their grade, and their school are on the little cards next to each picture. Enjoy yourselves. And feel free to talk to each other about the art.”

Miss Gardner frowned. I think she would have liked it better if we were quiet.

We walked around and looked at all the pictures that were hanging on special walls After a while, Mrs. Bowers asked us to that had been put up around the auditorium. There was one girl who was in sixth grade at one of the other schools who was a very good artist. She did a beautiful drawing of a mermaid and another of very bright-colored flowers. Her name was Jean. gather in the middle of the exhibition.

“Girls and boys, I'm asking all the students that come to see the exhibition to vote for their favorite picture,” Mrs. Bowers said. “There are slips of paper and pencils on the table by the door. Please write down the name of the student whose picture you like best.”

I wrote down the girl named Jean who did the mermaid picture.

The art exhibition was up all week. Buses brought other schools to see it. Some King Street students were asked to be “ushers” for the visiting kids. I was chosen by Mrs. Bowers because she knew that I loved art. The ushers had to meet the buses and show the kids the way to the exhibition. I did it three times. I made sure I pointed out the girl named Jean's pictures of the mermaid and the flowers.

“These are my favorites,” I told them.

I also got to be an usher one day after school. Mom was there with some other ladies from the PTA to serve afternoon tea. I got to pass around a tray of cookies to the grown-ups who came to look at the exhibition.

The newspaper had photos and stories about it. There was a list of the favorite pictures for each grade. My favorite artist, Jean, was on the list.

The superintendent of schools, Mr. Brown, said, “The citywide art exhibition has been a great success. I want to congratulate Mrs. Bowers, the art supervisor, and all the students for such good work. And I want to thank the King Street School teachers and students for being such good hosts. I hope we can do this every year.”

I hope so, too. I was already thinking of what I would draw for next year when I was in the third grade.

Chapter Seven

Tuesday morning, Mom, Buddy, Maureen and I went to Wallingford to say good-bye to Uncle Charles at the train station. It was very crowded with lots of people who were saying good-bye to the other young men who were going off to Fort Devens, Massachusetts, to learn to be soldiers. Uncle Charles was very popular in Wallingford, so he was put in charge of everyone going. Someone blew a whistle when it was time to leave.

“Okay, men,” Uncle Charles shouted. “Say your farewells and get aboard.” He hugged Buddy and me, kissed Mom and Maureen and Nana. He shook hands with his best friend, Mickey Lynch, and Tom. Then he hugged and kissed his girlfriend, Viva. He jumped on the train and it started up. It would go to New Haven and then to Boston, where a bus would take all the men to the Army camp.

Ladies were crying and waving handkerchiefs. The men were shouting and waving their arms, and then somebody started to sing “God Bless America.” Everybody joined in. Viva was sniffling into her hankie. It was just like a movie.

Tom put his arm around my shoulders and said, “Don't forget, Timothy, we have to be brave.”

“For the duration, right,” I said.

“Right!” Tom said, smiling at me.

Chapter Eight

I still can't find my diary key. It's been five days since it's been lost and now I'm really worried. I hope I can remember everything that's happened!

I am getting more and more excited about next year when I'm in the third grade. It seems like all the really good stuff begins when you're in the third grade—the art exhibition and library time in school.

Every Friday morning a lady named Mrs. Cowing comes to King Street School. She's the Library Lady. Even though we didn't have library in second grade, I wanted her to know who I was, so I started to wait for her car to pull up. Then this Friday I asked if I could help her carry in some of her boxes of books.

“Well, aren't you a polite young man,” she said. “You certainly can help.”

“I wish we could have library in second grade, because I love books,” I told her.

“Well, you don't have much longer to wait,” Mrs. Cowing said.

I hoped that I could take out more than one book a week from the school “library.” At the Curtis Memorial Public Library across from the City Hall, the children's librarian only lets us take out one book a week no matter how many times we go. Mom takes us every week, but I'm usually finished with my book before I get home.

And besides that, the children's librarian has all the shelves marked with grade numbers, so if you're in second grade you can't take out any upper-grade books even if you're a very good reader like I am. Of course, I'm really lucky because we have lots of books at home, including tons of comic books that we used to get with Uncle Charles. Maybe Dad or Tom will keep doing that with Buddy and me. I hope so.

Jeannie comes to our house to read my comic books. Her parents are teachers and they don't think comic books are good things, so they won't buy her any. Every once in a while Jeannie just comes into our house and I'll hear her giggling in the living room. Especially when she's reading my
Little Lulu
comics.