Lögberg-Heimskringla - 13.12.1991, Síða 15

1 Lögberg-Heimskringla • Föstudagur 13. desember1991 «15
So Many Things To Be Proud Of
by Paul A.
Sigurdson
Matthcw and Martin Chase wcre
brothers, but they were as unlike as night
and day. Martin was a popular man, an
elder of St. Andrews, and a respected
businessman who at twenty had taken
over his father’s confectionery and made
himself wealthy.
Howcver, Matthewwasknownasone
of the town’s failures. Rebelling against
his fathcr, while yet in his teens, he had
struck out on his own and he had never
made anything of himself. He had sur-
prisingly won the hand of Dóra Karlson.
The townsfolk had clickcd their tongues
at thc unrcasonableness of the marriage.
However, Dóra,adevoutgirI withasunny
disposition, had stuck with him in spite
of everything - in spite of his jail term - the
result of a drunken spree - and even in
spite of his scandalous lapsc with ayoung
high spirited married woman from the
neighbouring town.
Now hc was just into pension age, and
he and Dóra, both growing old and in
shaky hcalth, were secmingly relatively
happy and content. They made their home
in a small, old house, scraping a living
from thcir mcagrc pensions.
It was Christmas Evc day, and Mat-
thew was in his brother’s store buying the
turkey. He and Dóra had scrimped for
months to save for the festive day, and
Matthcw himself, bad heart and all, had
worked many hours shovelling snow to
add a few dollars to the Christmas “kitty”.
Yes, they would have a real celebration
thisyear. No, he reasoned, he himself did
not deserve it. But Dóra? Ah, Dóra! She
deserved it a hundredfold!
He was picking out his turkey when
he heard his brother arguing in his loud
tones with a woman at the check-out at
the front of the store. The elderly woman,
stubby in stature, was clutching a turkey.
She was dressed in a shabby brown tweed
coat and had an unsightly boy’s helmet
on her head. The fur-lined Óaps were
strapped around her chin. Matthew saw
it was “Old Annie” - or “Funny Annie” as
the people of the town called her - Anna
Ziegler, his old school classmate in grade
six, almost sixty years ago. Matthew, who
saw her every few days, had not spoken
to her since school.
“I will pay you!” she protested.
“No, Annie! No! You owc too much
already. See this — fifty-four dollars and
one cent!”
“I will payyou -tomorrow!” persisted
Annie, not at all angry.
Martin gingerly picked the turkey from
thecrook ofherarm. She madenoeffort
to resist.
r Donations to 1 ^Lögberg-Heimskringla Inc.^
Mrs. D. E. Martin, Milton, Ont.... $20.
Mrs. Frida Erickson, Wpg., MB.... $50.
Mrs. Shirley Dye, Red Deer, AB... Dennis & Claire Stefanson S25.10
Winnipeg, MB ..$100.
Halldor Eastman, Selkirk, MB $12.55
ej<%cc
“I’ll phone the church,” he said pa-
tronizingly. “I will tell them to send you
a can of stew. Beef stew. And you won’t
have to trouble to cook a turkey,” he
added, smiling his broadest convenient
smile.
Annie Zicglernodded shortly and then
shuffled out of the store.
Matthew felt atwinge of pity. Too bad
about Annie. She had quit school at fif-
teen, pregnant. Her father had thumped
his Bible and driven her into the streets.
The baby had come still-
born, and Annie, full of
shame and confusion, had
withdrawn into herself, be-
coming as the years passed,
an outcast, the object of
cheap jokes, and mean whis-
pers. She had now been
transformed into almost a
non-being, someonestrange
and alien, and someone to
be laughed at, scomed and
even fearcd.
Martin was about to re-
place thc turkey in the
freezer when Matthcw
somewhat rudely took it out
of his hand.
“I’ll buy it,” he said scowl-
ing at his brother.
Martin stared at him in
disbelief.
“You, Matthew, are buy-
ingaturkey?” he said witha
hint of sarcasm. “Did you
win a lottery?”
His brother didn’t an-
swer. It was like Martin to
treat him as a joke.
“Here is the money,” said Matthew
shortly, and started for the door .
“Will I sce you in church tonight,
Matthew?”
“No.”
Martin shook his head ruefully.
“That has always been your trouble,
Matthew,” he said accusingly, “ You never
go to church.”
When Matthew got home and showed
Dóra the plump bird, she had another
surprise.
“I’ve been thinking Matt,” she said
looking very grave, “We should give it to
the Boy’s Home.”
Matthew was stunned.
“But, Dóra -” he protested. “We’ve
been saving for—”
“I know Matt,” she continued. “But
I’ve been thinking, the boys need it more
than we. They are children; and Christ-
mas is really for children.”
He shook his head in wonder. Yes, it
was truc; his wife was right again. She
was always right. She always went straight
to the core of the matter, cutting away all
the layers of sham and hypocrisy.
“I’Il take ittothe Boy’s Home,”sighed
Matthew. “If that’s what you think is
best.”
He was only two blocks from the Home
whcn somc mystcrious forcc seemed to
takehold ofhim. Itwasanoverpowering
thought. “Give the turkey to Annie
Ziegler,” a compelling voice inside him
repeated many times. Smiling to himself
he turned off coursc and hcadcd for hcr
house.
Thcre was an awkward pause when
Annie faced him at her door, but then,
perceiving he was cold she invited him
in.
“I’m Matthcw, Annie,” he said as shc
starcd at him questioningly. “Matthcw
was almost frightening. He reached across
the table and graspcd hcr hand.
“Annie,” he began softly.
“Matthew,” she said, the tone in her
tired voice was a silent cry for hopc and
understanding. “Did I do so wrong?”
Matthew was stirred by feelings he
had neverexperienced before. Hegrippcd
her hand with both of his own.
“No!”he cried vehemently. “The town
did you wrong! We all did you wrong!”
Shc smilcd at him through her tcars.
“Thankyou Matthew, and
Merry Christmas!”
“MerryChristmasAnnie,”
he said patting her hand.
After Matthew had gone,
Annic looked at hisgift with
a wry smile. She was grate-
ful to him, but he would
never know that she had
never really wanted the tur-
key at all. It had all becn a
childish game she had becn
playing on Martin for the
pasttwentyyears. Everyycar
his refusal enabled hcr, in a
perverse way, to make hcr
feeble attempt to avenge
herself upon the socicty
which had shunned her. It
was an attempt to touch the
veiy conscience of the man,
and by cxtension, of thc
town itsclf.
Now shc realizcd that the
time had come for hcr to
end the game. In a way,
Matthew’s kindness and
his gift had been hcr
redcmption. And a suddcn
thought surfaced in hcr mind, ground
from the crucible of her memory. What
had brought it on? She would ncver
know. Perhaps it was thc never for-
gotten sight of her dcad baby, looking so
angelic, so pale and still on the shcct
beside her; perhaps it was the coarsc
laugh of the rich farmer’s son whcn
she’d told him his baby was growing
inside her; perhaps it was the namelcss
and innumerable hurts she had suffercd
from the town’s whisperers, or pcrhaps
it was simply bom of the natural human
yeaming for justicc in a harsh unfccling
world. At any ratc, the thought was
there, full-blowm, clcar as a new morn-
ing. Feeling proud and strong, she
seemed to be able to grasp it like a
palpable thing and hold it lovingly in
her hands.
Then the new Annie Ziegler rose from
her chair and put on her outdoor wear.
She took the gift under her arm and went
out bravely into the frosty Christmas night;
and with new hope and resolution, she
headed directly to the longavenue which
led to the Home for Boys.
Chase. We were in grade six togcthcr at
Cherry Hill.”
A light suddenly showed in her tired
grey eyes.
“Yes,” she said warmly, “Matthew,
the good ball player! I do remember!
Come sit down, I’ll make you tea!”
Matthew plunked the turkey into her
arms and she gave a little gasp of surprise.
Then a strangc scene followed. Two peo-
ple who had not talked together for al-
most sixty years sat at a little kitchen table
chatting and sipping weak tea. The
strangeness soon vanished, and the awk-
wardness changed to friendly familiarity.
It was as if the two of them were happy
children in Cherry Hill school again. Time
had miraculously been suspendcd.
Matthew accepted a third cup of tea
and said, “Annie, you were thebest drawer
in the school.”
Her wizened tired face brokc into a
toothless smile. “I loved to draw,” she
said softly, then her smile faded and she
looked away. “But that was so very, very
long ago.”
“They were good days, Annie.”
“Yes, very good days. How is Dóra?”
“Fine. She’s getting older and she has
some troubles. Gallstones.”
“Matthew, you were such a lucky man
to get Dóra.”
He nodded gravely.
Thcn biting her lip, Annie Ziegler ut-
tered words she had believcd all her life
she never would be able to say.
“I was not so lucky.”
Matthew did not know how to re-
spond, Annie’s sudden shift to intimacy
I enjoy reading L-H cvery wcek
and find all the articfes most interest-
ing. I amalwaysintrigued by the news
of the lón Sigurðsson Chapter IODE.
I have been a member of our local
chapter for over 40 years, and it i$
very interesting to see what other
chapters are doing. I must commend
the ]ón Sigurðsson Chapter for their
initiative and the scope of the work
they arcdoing. Our John MiltonChap-
ter had its 80th birthday this past
year, and I bciieve the Winnipeg
Chapter is almost as old.
It always makes me feel so proud of
my Icelandic heritage when I read
aboutthe accomplishments of so many
peopleoflcelandicdescentwhichyou
write about in the newspaper. We have
so many things to be proud of.
I sincerely hope you are able to
overcome the financial difficulties of
the paper and that it will continue to
flourish for many ycars to come.
Sincerely,
Eileen Martin, Milton, Ontario