Monday, April 05, 2004
MOVING ON....
School was always a snap for me. I loved learning and had a great respect for teachers because of aunt Mary. I made friends easily because I had been moved so much prior to Cabool. I learned you have to jump out and get in the water if you want to swim. Of course working with the public soon gives you the ability to speak casually with people.
School was underway when I got some unpleasant news. Actually, it was more like disastrous news. Mr. Barrett was very sick and they had to sell the ice-cream parlor. He would require more medical attention than he could get at Cabool. I was sorry for them and scared about my job. What if they didn’t keep the help? Where would I go? What would I do? They said the new owners had promised to keep the help they had so my job would be secure. Still, I was concerned.
The new owners arrived at the first of the month and we were introduced. They came from San Diego where Mr. Martin had retired from the Navy. Mrs. Martin had relatives in Cabool and had been raised in the area so they had a connection in that way. Things went along fairly well for a while. Rosie was the first one to leave. She had cooked in restaurants most of her life and couldn’t/wouldn’t make the changes required.
A man was hired to take her place. He was supposedly a chef from Kansas City who was down on his luck. I don’t know where Mrs. Martin found him but he came in with a lot of big ideas that didn’t go well in a small town. He decided to quit and go back to Kansas City. He said he had a daughter my size and if I had any clothes to sell he would pay me later. I had a few things I could spare so I took them to him. He was to leave a check with Mrs. Martin for me to pick up after school. When I came to work and asked about it Mrs. Martin said he left on the bus that afternoon and hadn’t left anything for me.
I had worked hard to buy the few things I had but I knew he would never send the money. I was right. In order to save money on my rent I moved to another home with an older lady who was blind. Her rent was only $2.50 per week so I thought it would help my situation. However, she would come into the room every night and feel to see if my head was on the pillow…thereby knowing I was home. She knew I worked until 11:00 pm but it was just something she did. I grew to hate her fingers feeling for my head during the night. I also found my things had been “gone through” …..I suppose just a curiosity. I began looking for another room again.
Eventually I was made aware of a room that would be $3.50 again but Rosie Jones was the mother of the Postmaster in Cabool and had a lovely front bedroom she rented. Her husband died sometime prior to her decision to rent the room. I loved it and decided to make the monetary sacrifice to be in better surroundings. She told me I could put any food I would like in the refrigerator and for the first time since leaving Omaha I was able to use a bath-tub for bathing instead of a pan of water. I was very happy about my change. I was able to take meals at the ice-cream parlor during working hours but I bought a few things and put in the refrigerator for evenings at home. However, when I went to get some snacks, they had been opened and were partially gone. The second time it happened I quit buying anything.
One time Rosie left for the week-end and I was alone except for a married couple who rented a back apartment. Rosie, Mr. And Mrs. Nettles and myself all used the same bathroom. I took a bath before bedtime and was in the living room reading when the French doors opened leading to the living room. It was Mr. Nettles. He spoke to me and then came in the living room, shutting the door. I was a little uneasy but didn’t show it.
My uneasiness proved to be right. He wanted me to go back to his apartment and sleep with him because his wife was also gone. He said he knew I could use money and was willing to pay me because Mrs. Martin told him about the cook not paying for the clothes I gave him. Once I realized his wife was gone and just the two of us were in the house I became instantly defensive. When he realized I couldn’t be bribed he begged me not to tell his wife. I promised, because I didn’t intend to ever tell anyone. After he left the room I went to my bedroom and moved the chest of drawers against the door connected to the living room. I locked the outside door and closed the windows and locked them. I was afraid he might try and come back so I took all of the precautions I could think of. Finally I went to bed and covered up…….I spent a very warm night but as it turned out…….a safe one.
The longer I stayed with Rosie the more I knew she was in deep depression. She cried all the time and kept talking about how much she missed her husband. In my young mind the only thing I could think of was for her to get out and see people, go places with friends and “do things.” She would seem to perk up but when I came from work she would be down in the black hole again. She hadn’t called anyone or gone anywhere. No matter how much I tried she couldn’t climb out of her depths.
One day while I was at work, she poured gasoline on herself in the back yard and lit the fatal match. It was beyond my comprehension that a person could do that to themselves....no matter what the reason. I felt so sorry for Rosie…..she just didn’t get the help she needed.
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
School was underway when I got some unpleasant news. Actually, it was more like disastrous news. Mr. Barrett was very sick and they had to sell the ice-cream parlor. He would require more medical attention than he could get at Cabool. I was sorry for them and scared about my job. What if they didn’t keep the help? Where would I go? What would I do? They said the new owners had promised to keep the help they had so my job would be secure. Still, I was concerned.
The new owners arrived at the first of the month and we were introduced. They came from San Diego where Mr. Martin had retired from the Navy. Mrs. Martin had relatives in Cabool and had been raised in the area so they had a connection in that way. Things went along fairly well for a while. Rosie was the first one to leave. She had cooked in restaurants most of her life and couldn’t/wouldn’t make the changes required.
A man was hired to take her place. He was supposedly a chef from Kansas City who was down on his luck. I don’t know where Mrs. Martin found him but he came in with a lot of big ideas that didn’t go well in a small town. He decided to quit and go back to Kansas City. He said he had a daughter my size and if I had any clothes to sell he would pay me later. I had a few things I could spare so I took them to him. He was to leave a check with Mrs. Martin for me to pick up after school. When I came to work and asked about it Mrs. Martin said he left on the bus that afternoon and hadn’t left anything for me.
I had worked hard to buy the few things I had but I knew he would never send the money. I was right. In order to save money on my rent I moved to another home with an older lady who was blind. Her rent was only $2.50 per week so I thought it would help my situation. However, she would come into the room every night and feel to see if my head was on the pillow…thereby knowing I was home. She knew I worked until 11:00 pm but it was just something she did. I grew to hate her fingers feeling for my head during the night. I also found my things had been “gone through” …..I suppose just a curiosity. I began looking for another room again.
Eventually I was made aware of a room that would be $3.50 again but Rosie Jones was the mother of the Postmaster in Cabool and had a lovely front bedroom she rented. Her husband died sometime prior to her decision to rent the room. I loved it and decided to make the monetary sacrifice to be in better surroundings. She told me I could put any food I would like in the refrigerator and for the first time since leaving Omaha I was able to use a bath-tub for bathing instead of a pan of water. I was very happy about my change. I was able to take meals at the ice-cream parlor during working hours but I bought a few things and put in the refrigerator for evenings at home. However, when I went to get some snacks, they had been opened and were partially gone. The second time it happened I quit buying anything.
One time Rosie left for the week-end and I was alone except for a married couple who rented a back apartment. Rosie, Mr. And Mrs. Nettles and myself all used the same bathroom. I took a bath before bedtime and was in the living room reading when the French doors opened leading to the living room. It was Mr. Nettles. He spoke to me and then came in the living room, shutting the door. I was a little uneasy but didn’t show it.
My uneasiness proved to be right. He wanted me to go back to his apartment and sleep with him because his wife was also gone. He said he knew I could use money and was willing to pay me because Mrs. Martin told him about the cook not paying for the clothes I gave him. Once I realized his wife was gone and just the two of us were in the house I became instantly defensive. When he realized I couldn’t be bribed he begged me not to tell his wife. I promised, because I didn’t intend to ever tell anyone. After he left the room I went to my bedroom and moved the chest of drawers against the door connected to the living room. I locked the outside door and closed the windows and locked them. I was afraid he might try and come back so I took all of the precautions I could think of. Finally I went to bed and covered up…….I spent a very warm night but as it turned out…….a safe one.
The longer I stayed with Rosie the more I knew she was in deep depression. She cried all the time and kept talking about how much she missed her husband. In my young mind the only thing I could think of was for her to get out and see people, go places with friends and “do things.” She would seem to perk up but when I came from work she would be down in the black hole again. She hadn’t called anyone or gone anywhere. No matter how much I tried she couldn’t climb out of her depths.
One day while I was at work, she poured gasoline on herself in the back yard and lit the fatal match. It was beyond my comprehension that a person could do that to themselves....no matter what the reason. I felt so sorry for Rosie…..she just didn’t get the help she needed.
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
