Prologue

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The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Amended edition 2024

Chapters One and Two of Women of Dust and Wind

Eight years prior, the impatient bride tapped her food on the floor of her father’s new automobile while they rode the three miles toward her small, country church. “We’ll be on time, daughter. Relax.” Her father, Ernest Janssen chuckled, “I promised your mother I’d drive extra slow past church so dust wouldn’t blow into the opened windows. I’m obeying your mother.”

The bride closed her eyes and pretended she was a fairy-tale princess arriving at the ball in her ornate carriage. An hour before, her two aunts chattered and argued while they arranged her long, blonde hair. Four younger female cousins giggled and teased.

“Wait until tonight.” One snickered behind her hand.
“Will you cry, Lydia?” the youngest stared with wide eyes.
“Be sure to tell us everything.” Another whispered in her ear.

Of course, her blushing mother had enlightened her daughter — a bit. In secret, her inexperienced friends prattled about what they hoped might be true. But Lydia sensed no worries. Albert Kramer pulled her pigtails in grade school and stole her heart when she turned sixteen. Today, Lydia Letica Janssen would become his wife and trust hint for the rest of her life. I will marry this handsome, strong man, be a good wife, and raise a large family. We will live happily ever after.

Lydia climbed the white limestone steps of the framed country church with care for her dress. Her stressed mother whisked her into the cool entry. She and another aunt primped Lydia’s hair, smoothed her dark blue taffeta dress, and puffed up her sleeves. The whiteness of her starched collar and the lacy garland in her hair proclaimed the young bride’s status as the child of one the most prominent farmers in the area. Holding her at arms’ length, her mother frowned while she inspected her nineteen-year-old daughter once more. Then she emitted a deep sigh. “You look beautiful.”

Tears welled her eyes as she squeezed Lydia’s cheeks. Meta puckered her red painted lips and carefully kissed her only daughter. She stood back, pulled the belt front under her large breasts, and adjusted her new spring hat. Meta grabbed her husband’s arm and marched down the aisle while her head swiveled and soaked in the attention. The nervous parents joined Lydia’s older two brothers, their wives, and children in the front pew and waited.

The heady aroma of lilacs, along with the pink and white peonies just cut from her mother’s garden that morning, permeated the small sanctuary. The bride’s cousin, Marie, stood ready dressed in a pink linen dress, waited to proceed down the aisle and function as Lydia’s witness.

From the back of the church, Lydia focused on her future husband. The lanky son of a farmer stood dressed in his newly purchased dark-blue vested suit and pulled his fingers through his blonde Then he peered down the church aisle. When his eyes met Lydia’s, she noticed that they widened. But true to his nature, his face relaxed and a dim pled smile spread across his face.

Lydia’s heart pounded, and she felt light-headed. But true to her nature, she raised her head and forced her feet along the narrow aisle. She gripped her bouquet of garden lilacs and tried to calm her trembling hands. Lydia paid no attention to the organ music. She didn’t notice the smiling faces which turned toward her. Her mother’s loud sobs never reached her ears. Her pale blue eyes remained on the boy whom she loved for her whole heart. Her fairy-tale life had begun.

New Perspectives on Love

Friends and kinsfolk from around the community attended the reception at her parents’ home. Lydia believed that if she received one more kiss on the cheek or saw another person slap Albert on the back, she would scream. But soon the well-wishers traveled home to sleep off the revelry.

The newlyweds rushed to Mr. Janssen’s car for the trip to Albert’s parents’ farm four miles away. Lydia gave her parents one last hug, waved, and stood next to her new husband. Under the May moon and a faint breeze, they watched the fading taillights. It had been the first quiet moment or time to focus on their new marital status.

“I guess I am home now.” Lydia whispered as her hand reached for Albert’s. She felt heat flush on her neck at the notion of their impending adventure.

“Yes, you are.” The groom flashed a boyish and placed his finger to his lips. He then guided her into the noiseless house, through the kitchen, and up the wooden stairs. Albert’s large bedroom sat at the end of the hall while his sister, Helen, and two brothers slept in bedrooms on the opposite sides of the house.

A shutter raced through her body as Lydia passed the threshold into Albert’s bedroom. Still a virgin, the bride’s eyes searched the room and wondered where she would dress. “I’ll go into the water closet. You dress here.” Albert leaned close and whispered. “Don’t take too long.”

Her fingers struggled with the two buttons on her newly sewn nightgown. Now, I’m finally ready. She glided her trembling fingers against the silky material and climbed into the bed. While she stared at the door, fears filled her mind. Will he like my body? She’d never seen anyone, not even close cousins, without clothes. How will I compare? She would be miserable if the man she loved was dissatisfied. Will he still be glad he chose me?

“There’s my wife!” The new husband raced across the floor and flung himself through the air. After he landed on the iron-framed bed with a forceful thud, the iron mattress springs moaned and creaked. When Albert landed on Lydia’s body, the new bridge emitted a high-pitched squeak. “Shh, Albert! Your parents will hear.”

“So?” He snorted. “I was told that’s what newlyweds are supposed to do. Anyway, my parents are snoring by now.”

Lydia turned her face to her new groom. “Albert,” she whispered, “is your parents’ room truly below us?” She bit her lip certain they would hear the couple’s footsteps as well as the rhythm and tempo of the newlywed’s bed springs.

“Who cares? Like I told you, they are snoring now.” He snickered and pulled her close. “Besides, I’m supposed to win you over with my manly ways.” His warm tongue explored the soft skin around her neck. “I’ve waited for three years.” With gusto, he kissed his wife’s face and hair. She muffled her giggling glee and pretended to push his hands away. While his hungry fingers searched and explored under her nightgown, she closed her eyes. Yes, my storybook fantasy has begun.

Over the remaining hours of the warm, spring night, their first together as husband and wife, the couple relished their lovemaking. When the sun peeked through the window, Albert and Lydia remained in each other’s arms. “Albert, is it a sin to enjoy what we did last night?”

Her groom chortled. “No, sex is good.” He raised his head and searched into her face, “Wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” She whispered and buried her face in his arm. “I was told not to let boys touch me, so I didn’t know what to expect. It sounded so evil.”

“Maybe it’s bad before one is married.” Albert lifted her chin. “But you promised yourself to me in front of God. Like in the Bible, . . . the two will become one.

Lydia’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know it meant that, but . . .”

“Well, you think on it.” She lay next to him and inhaled his musky smell. The brief pain subsided as her mother predicted, but the discomfort never matched the exhilaration of lying in his arms. Lydia perceived she loved this man before; but now, her feelings for her husband reached a deeper level of devotion.

New Perspectives on Life

The newlyweds lay entangled in each other’s arms and legs until eight o’clock the next morning and relished the cool spring breeze that flowed into the windows. “Well wife, although father has allowed me part of the morning off, I have to get up and get work done today.” He popped his new wife’s bottom and threw off the blankets. “The kitchen door has slammed several times. I think we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves.”

At twenty-three years, Albert was the eldest son of a three-generation farming lineage. On his shoulders, he carried the aspirations and legacy of the Kramer name. Albert’s grandparents, just as Lydia’s, had migrated from Germany to Nebraska in the early 1870s and become first-generation farmers. The new Americans respected determination and devotion to family. His parents intended that their eldest son would take control of the family farm in the future.

Since a child and in grammar school, Albert Kramer demonstrated the characteristics of a first-born. He strolled with his head high and never second-guessed joining a new conversation. His bright blue eyes and blonde hair belied his serious side. Lydia had noticed that her husband was a copy of his father. Patient but determined, Albert didn’t back away from any problem. Dressed in denim pants and a home sewn cotton shirt, Albert left the room and clambered down the wooden stairs with loud stomps as he hummed a cheerful tune.

Naive and wide-eyed, the young woman believed she could foretell her future. She and Albert would raise a happy family with many children and become one of most prosperous farm couples in the area. While Lydia lived her first nineteen-years-old, America has grown strong. By 1927, no one doubted that the upward trend would ever change.

Lydia stared into the dresser mirror. Do I look as differently as I feel? A small smile played on her lips. I don’t know how to explain it, but I am not the same. Her eyes moved over her breasts, her neck, and face. There were no outward changes. She touched her lips and whispered to the mirror. I am a real woman now who loves a strong man.

Donned a yellow dress, the new Lydia braided her hair before she ran down the stairs. She was ready to be a farm homemaker. “Good morning.” Her eyes peeked at her new husband, but when she gazed into Albert’s eyes memories of their first night together flashed through her mind and made Lydia’s cheek hot.

Pancake syrup dripped from the corners of his mouth when Albert sent her a mischievous grin. “Good morning, Mrs. Kramer.” She glanced over at her mother-in-law who stood at the kitchen sink. When Anna spun around, Lydia sensed that Albert’s mother had heard them the night before. Smirking at the idea that her mother-in-law might be jealous, the new Lydia failed to recognize the possible danger.

Albert jumped up from his chair, rushed across the floor, and twirled Lydia. His warm lips pressed hard on her mouth as he whispered in her ear. “I’m off to make our future, Mrs. Kramer. See you at noon.” He grabbed his wide-brimmed straw hat, slammed the screened kitchen door, and abandoned his wife with his mother.

Lydia stared at the spotless linoleum floor and shuffled her right foot in circles. “I’m, ah, I am not hungry, Mother Kramer.”

“Well, l stood here since six o’clock this morning waiting for you to finally wake up. You can at least eat one pancake.” From the tone of Anna’s voice, there was no doubt that she considered herself queen of the kitchen.

“Yes, Mother Kramer.” Lydia tugged at her hair and imagined sticking her tongue out at her mother-in-law’s back. How childish. Lydia scolded herself. The single pancake and syrup were still warm and tasty. But while Anna’s dark eyes peered at her, Lydia struggled when each mouthful stuck to the roof of her mouth. Lydia’s stomach flipped three times with uneasiness, and she was unexpectedly homesick. Don’t you cry! You’re no longer a little girl! “Did you have fun at the reception last night?” Lydia attempted small talk.

“Of course.”

The ticking of a carved Bavarian cuckoo clock which on the wall reverberated and shattered the oppressive silence. Each sweet chirp of time started Lydia’s heart. You were warned that she wasn’t the warmest person.

Anna Kramer’s usual attire — an ankle-length attire of dark cotton or wool — made her appear unyielding and intimidating. Adding to her dark persona, Anna pulled her dull brownish hair into a tight knot at the top of her head. Although she acted polite at church, Anna’s gloomy personality made Lydia a bit timid.

Elise Hopkins expressed the opinion shared by most of Lydia’s friends. “I wouldn’t want to be Anna Kramer’s daughter-in-law for all the Alberts in the world.” But Lydia loved Anna’s son. There were no options to escape the situation. Her mother, Meta, never spoke badly about anyone. But when Lydia asked, Meta couldn’t think of encouraging remarks. “Well, she’s a formidable woman, for sure.”

This morning, Anna wore a green cotton house dress, but her hair was slicked back in the usual tight bun. Although she wasn’t wearing her customary gloomy color, Anna’s presence remained ominous. While she slammed pots and pans in the sink, Anna swung around and faced her new daughter-in-law. “I’m not your mother so don’t call me that name.” Her sneer was undeniable. “Call me Anna, if you have to call me anything.” She turned back and continued washing the dishes.

The newest member of the family sat stunned. Over the past two years of respectable courting, Lydia spent several Sunday family dinners at the Kramer home. She had also helped Anna and Albert’s younger sister, Helen, in the kitchen. Although Anna Kramer never stated anything harsh, her actions were often intimidating. Lydia sensed Anna enjoyed making her uneasy. But now Lydia realized that she would live under the same roof as Anna each long day and every short night. Her stomach began to churn once more.

“Lydia, good morning!” Helen, the youngest sibling at fifteen years, embodied a girlish sense of playfulness. She set the egg basket on the counter and rushed next to her sister-in-law. Her hair smelled of straw and chicken manure.

No matter, Lydia’s face brightened with the prospect of a distraction. “Helen, you’ve been busy already this morning. Can I help with the chickens tonight and every morning from now on?” Lydia hoped for an escape from Anna’s evil stares.

Anna Kramer turned from the sink and narrowed her eyes. Then she nodded. “A good chore to start. Helen will enjoy the companionship, and you get your pretty hands dirty.”

“You bet!” Helen squeezed Lydia’s arm. “You want a tour of the farm?”

Located at the crest of a hill — tall for the flatlands of Nebraska — the house sat visible for miles around. The two-and-one-half story house had been built using the simple American Four-square style. Designed in the last half of the 19th century, each floor was arranged in four sizable rooms plus the two rooms in the attic. The Sears catalog sold the package — blue-print including building material — for two thousand dollars. When the materials arrived, the new owners assembled the house. No stained-glass windows graced the facade, but the home possessed a wide veranda that wrapped around the western and southern sides. Painted white with green trim proved that the Kramer family took pride in their home. Two rocking chairs and a bench were painted green and rested at the junctions of the porch.

The young women strolled to the side facing the dirt road. Pointing to the south over rolling fields, Lydia called out, “Hey, I never noticed before. I can see the top of the water tower in Platte City!” Helen giggled at Lydia’s surprise.

“On Tuesday and Friday nights, our family sits together on the porch. Father expects that we all be there, like church.” Helen’s two deep dimples mirrored her brother’s. “Since Father and the boys work during the daytime, it gives the family a chance to talk together.” Helen grabbed Lydia’s hand and squeezed. “But I can sit with you. We can be sisters. What do you think?” With a cautious glance over her shoulder, Helen lowered her voice. “Mother isn’t very much fun to talk with. Besides, I irritate her; so I keep busy and out of the way.”

“Oh, you don’t seem the type to irritate people.”

“Mother wasn’t always so mean and frustrated. When I was five years old, she laughed all the time. We had fun when we baked together. Then her emotions changed. I don’t know what happened. But she started biting at Father and the rest of us.”

“What happened?” Lydia couldn’t imagine her mother using harsh words with her or her father.

Helen shrugged. “Now, I irritate Mother. Her moods are tight and careful. She measures a person’s actions. Be careful. She saves the criticism and then trips you up later. She likes the boys best. I just disappoint.” Lydia didn’t know how to answer. Her parents had coddled her. But Lydia sensed Helen’s genuine pain. Helen changed the subject. “Anyway, I have you now, right? You can tell me all about being a wife.” She raised her eyebrows and giggled.

“Oh, I think I’ll keep my secrets.”

The two young women linked arms and continued around the house. On the west side of the house, Lydia scanned out to the farm’s rolling prairie grass now dotted with wild yarrow and sweet clover. Near a shallow ravine, a farm pond formed from the rainwater run-off. “Oh, I can’t wait to sit on this side of house in the mornings and listen to Meadow Larks.”

Helen led Lydia around the house to the north side where the kitchen door faced toward the barn and other outbuildings. “You can see that this is the door we all use.” Helen rubbed two yellow-striped cats and their mewing kittens. With a parade of cats following, Lydia and Helen watched not to step on any clumps of manure.

The musty odors of a barnyard never bothered Lydia. She liked that the farm cows carried an aroma of green grass and giggled at their jaws grounding side-to-side as they chewed hay. The slime of the green juices oozed to the ground. Inside the barn, Lydia breathed in the lingering woodsy smell of soaped leather of saddles, harnesses, and bridles.

By the time the young women returned to the house, the newest member of the Kramer family formulated three major decisions.

First, it was necessary that Lydia use caution when she worked in the kitchen — Anna’s domain. The new bride didn’t want her mother-in-law saving up any criticism to embarrass Lydia later.

Second, if Anna found Helen irritating, her mother-in-law would feel the same about Lydia. I need to think before I speak.

Third, the new wife grasped that failure was not an option. She must strive to live in harmony with Albert and all the members of his family. Lydia inhaled deeply and then emitted a long sigh. She had much to learn.

Complex Skills and Simple Joys

Lydia’s mind hallucinated and reacted the fall over and over. She’d briefly regain consciousness only to fall back into the quiet black void. Two days later, she opened her eyes and found herself in her bedroom while Albert stood over her. His hand trembled as he placed a cold cloth on her forehead. When Lydia tried to raise her head, Albert stopped her. “No, Lydia. Stay still. You hurt your back.”

She eased back onto the pillow but then remembered the baby. “Albert! What about the baby?” A sharp cramp drove deep into the core of her body. When her fingers searched her swollen stomach, the bugle of her baby was gone. “No, No!” Her eyes raced from Albert’s face to the swollen eyes of her mother. “My baby!” Again, her world turned dark; she registered no pain.

The next morning, Lydia blinked her eyes open and was aware that she was still lying in bed. Sliding her eyes sideways, she spied Albert sitting on a kitchen chair holding his head in the hands. Her dry throat and mouth made her voice small and weak. “Albert, the baby?”

His eyes were swollen and his voice cracked. “You lost the baby, Lydia.” Once again, the mother-to-be opened her mouth to scream; but no sounds came, and oblivion comforted her again. When her eyes blinked open, Albert, the local doctor, and her mother waited by her side.

“Mother, come hold my hand.” Lydia yearned for her mother’s gentle strength.

“I’m sorry, Lydia.” Doctor Burns, the county’s only physician, had managed to drive through the snow drifts. “A perfect girl, but too small to live.” He hung his head, and Lydia’s face crinkled with pain.

“We put her little body in a small, wooden box.” The grieving father whispered. “We’ll keep her there until we can bury her next week.”

“I want to see her. What did she look like?” Lydia reached out her hand and implored her husband and Dr. Burns. “Can I see her?” Lydia’s mother squeezed her daughter’s hand and wept.

“Yes, but not now. Absolute rest is essential to heal your back.” Dr. Burns patted her hand and leaned near Lydia’s ear. “But I can tell you, she was flawless. Tiny fingers and toes, all exactly right.”

Albert covered his face with his calloused hands and leaned his head on the bed. When he began weeping aloud, Dr. Burns and Meta closed the door behind them so that the young parents could grieve together.

***

As the days moved on, Lydia fought through her emotions. During the first days, she wept — filled with grief at the loss of her child. Then her heart turned angry toward her mother-in-law. She gripped the bed covers and clenched her teeth. “Why can’t she ever be kind? She’s awful, Mother!”

“Lydia, this is a terrible time in your life. But I plead with you to find peace about Anna.”

“What, how can you say such a thing?” Lydia glared at her mother in disbelief.

“Hush, now. Unless you want to leave your husband, there will be many years ahead. Each day you must endure having Anna by your side.” Meta leaned near her daughter’s face and placed her hands around Lydia’s cheeks. “You must work this out. Ask God for help.”

“Well, I can’t right now. I don’t want to. I hate her.” Lydia closed her eyes. She didn’t want to talk anymore.

During the next tumultuous days, Lydia’s mind pondered her mother’s advice. Mother is right. But then her heart turned cold, and she wasn’t ready to forgive. For two days and nights, Lydia’s emotions swayed one way and then another and experienced sorrowful, salty tears and shouts of fury. Tormented by grief, Lydia’s mind needed to blame someone. Albert’s mother caused this!

Finally, Lydia again turned to her mother. “It’s not fair, Mother. I didn’t do anything wrong. Why was my baby taken away?” Her mother appreciated Lydia’s anger but reminded her daughter.

“It was a sad accident. Yes, Anna is mean-spirited. But you rushed toward the steps. No one pushed you.” The mature mother squeezed her daughter’s hand. “It wasn’t your fault either.” Meta caressed Lydia’s cheeks. “Forgive Anna. Lydia, forgive yourself.”

Lydia could see the pain on her mother’s face. Never once had her mother abandoned her. But just as the reasonable side of her heart started to heal, the emotional side screeched out in anger and pain.

After four days, Meta reached for her daughter’s hand. “My darling, grief is a black tornado.” Meta leaned near and whispered, “It grabs you, throws you around, and breaks your heart and spirit.” Her mother caressed Lydia’s brow. “You must ride this out. In time, grief will lose its power over your emotions. Cling to the love of your husband and the rest of us around you.

Lydia prayed for hours. At last, a fragile peace filled her heart. She was not the first woman who suffered a miscarriage and must move on. The next morning, Lydia decided she was physically strong enough for breakfast down in the kitchen. Her mother helped her dress and supported her as Lydia eased down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Low voices at the table fell silent. Lydia glanced around at the concerned faces and then stopped at her mother-in-law. Anna kept her blank face low. Anger flashed through Lydia’s heart, and she clenched her fists. She yearned to scream at Anna. Berate her. Hate her. But it wasn’t the right thing. The family’s cohesiveness required Lydia’s forgiveness. God would help.

“Anna, do you have a message for Lydia?” Walter Kramer laid his fork on the table and glared at his wife. His eyes were dark with bitterness. The silence in the room roared in Lydia’s ears. All eyes focused on Anna Kramer, especially those of Lydia’s mother. Looking at Meta’s face, Lydia realized that mother also struggled with anger.

Anna’s voice sounded weak and dry. “Lydia,” her voice cracked, and she licked her lips, “I apologize for snapping at you.” She paused for a breath while her eyes stared at the tablecloth. “I flame myself for my granddaughter’s death.” Her voice cracked, and her stoic face crumpled. She laid her head on her folded arms, and her shoulders shuddered. “It will haunt me forever.”

“Oh, Anna.” Lydia’s resolve folded, and she reached out for her mother-in-law. But Albert caught her hand, and his grip grew tight while he shook his head. Within ten minutes, one by one, each family member rose and left the room. Anna Kramer remained alone.

Later in the morning when Lydia’s mother readied for home, Lydia’s heart wished to go with Meta and sleep in her old bedroom. She yearned to savor the security she experienced as a little girl.

But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was now a wife, and a grieving mother. Her place remained here in her new home with her spouse.

Later as they readied for bed, Albert pulled Lydia into his arms. “My mother must realize how harsh she acted. It’s time she appreciated how her actions affect others. She has to learn that, or she’ll alienate her family.”

“God, help us all.” Lydia whispered before she kissed her husband’s lip.

Understanding Jealousy and Love

Up before sunrise, Albert, his brothers, and his father strolled out to the barn every morning at five o’clock — no matter the season or the weather. The cows crowded near the barn door bawled for the relief of the accumulated milk in their udders. The Kramer farm owned five cows which kept the family furnished with milk, cream, and butter. Then at night, before any supper, the milking process was performed again. Lydia started to saunter out to the barn and watched her husband and his brothers.

Emil threw the alfalfa hay from the loft and piled it in the stanchions. The chomping of hay calmed the milk cows while Albert washed the udders and checked for mastitis. Speaking with soft voices, the brothers balanced on three-legged stools and leaned their heads against the cows’ bellies which kept the bovines still and calm. “There’s nothing worse than having a scared mama kick over a full pail of milk.” Herman whispered to Lydia.

Albert winked at Lydia. “I am hiding from her manure tipped tail.”

Each morning and evening, farm cats lingered at the barn door and announced their presence. Once the milking started, the felines eyed the milkers with vigilance. Through the years, all three brothers and their father had become expert milk sharpshooters. “Watch this.” Albert nodded toward the waiting cats. In a flash, a squirt of milk crossed the milking alley and landed into a cat’s mouth.

“Bullseye. What a good shot!” While the cat licked its milky mouth, Lydia quietly giggled and softly clapped her hands. When the milking was done, Albert stepped near the feline audience and poured warm buttermilk into a tin pan. “Got to appreciate our cats. They’re hard workers.”

The younger brothers and Lydia carried milk-filled buckets to the cellar which sat under the house. There the cream was separated from the milk. Helen stood ready. But Anna waited with hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “It’s about time you got here.” She sneered at Lydia. “Are we finally going get the separating done?”

“I was just watching until the milking was done.” Lydia was surprised at Anna’s anger.

“The men don’t need you hanging around and bothering them.”

“She wasn’t, Mother.” Helen tried to calm everyone. “Lydia likes watching her new husband work.” Helen nudged her sister-in-law and grinned.

“She’s a married woman now. She shouldn’t be in a barn flirting with men.” The words slid out of Anna’s mouth like a waiting snake’s hiss. Lydia’s face and neck flushed red.

Embarrassed and angry, the daughter-in-law defended herself. “I wasn’t flirting. It’s rude of you to say such things.”

Anna moved close and leaned, “What did you say? Did you sass back to me?”

“Well, you were mean, Anna.” Lydia stammered. “I wasn’t . . .”

“Are you telling me what to think?” Spit flew from Anna’s mouth. “You better watch yourself, missy. Your mother may have allowed you to speak that way, but you will not do it here.”

“Don’t you criticize my mother!” Exasperated with Anna’s snipping comments, Lydia stepped closer. “She is a kind and caring person unlike you!” Lydia’s voice trembled but her eyes were dark.

“You are a spoiled little girl, and you know it!” Anna’s shrill voice filled the cellar.

Before Lydia could answer, slow but heavy footsteps sounded on the cellar steps as Albert ambled down. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stood beside his wife. The husband’s words came from deep in his throat. “What’s going on here, Mother?”

Anna flushed. “Lydia is acting disrespectful.” She didn’t look at her son but focused skimming the cream.

Lydia faced her husband and burst into tears. “I didn’t Albert, I didn’t.” She pushed her face into his chest.

Albert pushed Lydia back at arm’s length. “Go clean up and put supper on the table. I’ll be there in a minute.” He kept his voice low but deliberate. Rushing up the cellar steps, Lydia covered her mouth and muffled her sobs. The eldest brother nodded at Helen. “You go too. We’ll be there soon.”

Anna glared at her son. “You’re not going to scold me! She is obligated to be a good wife and not a little girl hanging around the barn.”

“Stop it, Mother. She is trying. Besides, I like having my wife around.”

“Not if it keeps you from getting your work done.”

“You lay off Lydia. I warn you. Do not treat her like you treat Helen.”

“How dare you! Remember the Fourth Commandment, Honor thy father and Mother.”

“I am not disrespecting you, Mother.” Albert peered into his mother’s eyes. “But remember the verse from Ephesians, Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. I will stand with my wife all the time, Mother. Just remember.” His voice growled the last words before climbing the cellar steps.

Lydia waited for Albert. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, honest. I didn’t try to make your mother annoyed. She is so critical.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and leaned in close. “Lydia, you didn’t. She created the situation. I’m glad you defended yourself.”

“But I didn’t mean to cause a scene. She is so mean, why?”

“I don’t know. Tiy not to listen. It’s hard, I know.”

Supper was a quiet event. The air hung heavy with unease. Walter glanced from his eldest to Lydia then to Anna. But no one dared ask what had happened. When Albert finished his plate, he picked up Lydia’s hand. “We’ll spend the rest of the evening in our room.”

“She needs to help with dishes.” His mother snapped.

“Not tonight, Mother. I think you understand.” Albert glared into her eyes.

Albert’s mother frowned at Walter waited for support. He answered without lifting his eyes. “Let it go, Anna.”

She threw her fork onto the table, stomped to the sink, and slammed pots and pans for the following hour.

***

Throughout the night and the next day, Lydia’s heart ached over the trouble this incident caused. The rift required solving, but she dreaded facing Anna. I’ll let everyone’s emotions settle for the next few days. Anna pouted and snipped at family members and caused heavy tension.

Searching for solace, Lydia preferred the garden. The once pampered daughter now stayed outside as much as she could. As she hoed and raked, she gained a sense of accomplishment. Lydia reached out her hands and caressed the small sterns and leaves as the plants burst from the soil.

The windmill blades sent a whirling hum through the summer air while it pulled clear water from the earth. Lydia leaned over the side of the metal water tank and watched frenzied tadpoles search for food in the mossy mixture of slime that lay at the bottom of the tank. Her white hands dipped two buckets, filled them to the brim, and walked like a staggering drunk as she balanced the weight of the buckets.

During the sizzling summer months of July and August, Lydia breathed in the peace and quiet of her vegetable world. She imagined the sun-kissed the leaves moved as their roots sucked up the water. June strawberries rendered a bumper crop, and Helen and Lydia spent the cool of the early mornings picking the juicy fruit. “My hands look like they are wearing rouge.” Helen’s sense of humor made chores fun.

The sisters-in-law stood over the hot stove while they stirred the berries and cooked them into sweet pulp. Their relationship strengthened as they boiled fruit into syrups and filled jars. Lastly, the young women proudly sealed the jellies and jams with melted wax. “Helen, doesn’t this make you feel proud.” The duo lined the jars of jelly and jam in the cool dark of the root cellar. “Next winter, I’ll smile when I watch Albert spread these on pancakes and toasted breads.”

By July, tomatoes began to mature and were ready for preservation. The kitchen remained hot into nightfall while the Kramer women simmered ripe vegetables into sauces or boiled down for catsup. As the beans and peas flourished, a part of the produce was laid out in the sun and dried for soups and stews during the winter months. An accumulation of sealed jars and crocks lined up in the cellar ready for the frosty winter months. The women’s labor in the garden — weeding and watering — assured that the Kramer family ate like kings. During the summer, fresh vegetables graced their table daily. When winter snows drifted over the county roads, the stocked root cellar kept the family healthy and well-fed.

As summer continued, there came a silent peace treaty between Lydia and Anna. In addition to tending the garden, caring for the chickens, daily separating milk, several loaves of fresh bread were needed each week. Tuesdays and Fridays were bread-making days. When the men left for the fields in the morning, Lydia and Helen rushed to remove the breakfast dishes. Anna carefully placed the flour near the dish of yeast which had softened overnight. Each woman then clutched a large stoneware bowl and wooden spatula. Once the measured flour and yeasty mixture were combined, the sticky substance was poured onto the table’s oil cloth. Their floured hands leaned onto the dough and kneaded back and forth before the end of the dough was lifted and folded it back with care. Each time, the women added just the right amount of additional flour.

Lastly, the dough was formed into loaves and left to raise for another hour. Finally, the loaves were placed into the wood-burning stove’s hot oven until the smell of fresh bread filled the Kramer house. Lydia surveyed the final golden loaves cooling on the windowsill. I never realized that the art of making bread involved more than grain; it encompassed dedication.

In July, fields of yellow oats and golden wheat waved in the fields. Not only was the harvested grain precious but so was straw — the left-over stems and leaves separated from wheat, barley, and oats. After drying, the straw was used for bedding in the barn pens or stalls. In the garden, straw warded off weeds and held down escaping moisture. Lastly, straw was stored in the lofts of barns for winter forage and clean bedding.

The grain fields were mowed down and allowed to dry in the fields. Then traveling crews of men and horses arrived pulling a large, metal threshing machine which separated the seeds from the chaff. When a farmer arranged for a threshing crew to arrive, word was sent out and neighborhood farmers arrived with the unspoken knowledge that their help would be reciprocated in the future.

“Anna, I talked to Johann Johnson last week.” Walter leaned back in his chair one noon. “He’s going to bring his threshing machine round next week.”

Anna sighed. “Okay, how many men do you think?” Farm women were expected to furnish a hearty noon meal and afternoon field lunches for the hungry thrashing workers. Two days before, Lydia, Helen, and Anna Baked extra loaves of bread and rolls. Anna baked apple and cherry pies early in the morning. By noon, three pots of cooked potatoes and two roasting pans of meat sat along dishes of vegetables, pickles, jams, and jellies, as well as plates of piled bread and roll ready for the hired crews and neighboring farmers.

Right at noon, horse-drawn hayracks filled with dusty men swayed into the farmyard and stopped at the windmill and water tank. Men jumped off and stomped wheat chaff from their shoes. Hats and bandanas whipped the grain chaff and dust off their shoulders, shirts, and pants.

Stepping up the water tank, they teased and bantered with one another. Used to the routine, each man rolled up his shirt sleeves and washed the remaining dust from his tanned arms, face, and sun-turned neck. Some used the towels Anna hung on the pump, but others simply shook the water off. Once everyone had washed, Walter led them to the house.

Watching from the window, Helen shouted, “Here they come!” The three women jumped into action and dashed around the kitchen. Anna positioned herself at the kitchen door and welcomed the men to her home. “Come on in. Don’t mind your wet shirts and dirty shoes, this house has seen mud and dust before.”

Nodding their heads, they thanked Walter’s wife and stood in a row along the kitchen wall. Lydia chuckled at the divided coloring of the men’s foreheads. Hats protected their foreheads from the sun but left the upper area next to the hairline white as snow. The workers elbowed each other and surveyed the two wooden tables filled with hot food — ham slices steamed on a large platter, three crispy fried chickens cooled in an enamel pan, and stoneware bowls of beans and peas cooked with onions sat placed around the table for easy access. Last, a large pan of boiled potatoes waited next to the white chicken gravy.

“Boy, Mrs. Kramer if this don’t smell good.” Leonard Hansen nodded at Anna. “I can see you worked hard this morning.”

Walter stepped up to the table, “Welcome and enjoy. Please grab a chair and sit.” The room filled with the noise of scraping chairs as the men each found a place. When the commotion quieted, Walter bowed his head. The men, young and old, followed his example. “Father, thank you for our harvest this summer and the kind help of our neighbors. Keep your hand of protection over our work today. In the name of our Lord and Savior, Amen.” The roar of voices and laughter filled the room while the hungry men heaped food onto their plates and then passed the dishes along with their large calloused hands.

“Hey, Kenneth, pass the bread. It smells great.”

“This chicken looks mighty good, Mrs. Kramer.”

Each man filled his plate to the edges and slathered butter on slices of bread. “Mother, great food as usual!” Albert sent his mother a huge grin and winked at Helen and Lydia. “Ladies, can I have more water?”

Wearing long aprons, Helen and Lydia sprang into action and grabbed water pitchers and the coffee pot. Helen grinned, “You serve your husband, Lydia.”

Lydia beamed. My husband. I have been a wife for over six weeks. After Lydia filled Albert’s glass, she continued along the table and made sure each worker was refreshed. When she came to her father and brothers, they raised their faces and sent her an assuring smile.

“Helen, cut more bread!” Anna’s demanding voice made Helen jump two feet into the air. Although Helen, still a teenager, had helped serve workers for ten years, Anna criticized any small error. No matter how hot the weather, the women poured steaming coffee and no one refused. Helen and Lydia retrieved empty platters or bowls. Once refilled, bowls were returned to the table, and the food was passed around again. No one left Anna’s table unsatisfied.

“So, Albert,” Myron Brown spoke up in a burly voice, “this must be your new missus!”

All the men turned their faces and glanced over at his young bride. Lydia froze with wide eyes and her mouth gaped in surprise. Her face blushed red while she stared at the floor. Don’t be silly. You know all these men. They’re your neighbors and friends from church.

Albert grinned. “You bet. Ain’t she just the prettiest bride you ever imagined?”

The men chuckled when they noticed Lydia blushing. Then they nodded and agreed. “She sure is. Better take safe care of her, I know her father.” Myron chuckled and threw a sideways glance across the table at Lydia’s father and brothers as he teased Albert. Lydia peeked up at her father, and his grin reminded her that the joke was all in fun; she shouldn’t be offended.

After the men devoured several helpings of the main food, Mr. Kramer moved his chair back a bit and called to his wife. “I imagined I smelled pie as I entered the house, Anna.”

In a rare moment of gaiety, Anna Kramer chuckled aloud, “You know you did, Mr. Kramer. Girls, bring out the sliced pies.” Earlier, Helen and Lydia had cut apple and cherry pies into slices and placed them on small plates. The noise quieted while the men savored the baked tastes of summer. After one last cup of coffee, Walter pulled out his pocket watch and pushed his chair back. “Well, men, back to the field. I promised that you would be back home in time to do chores.”

The refreshed men filed out the door, but each stopped by Anna Kramer, nodded, and thanked her for such a great meal.

Lydia’s brothers waved, but her father embraced her and whispered. “You made me proud today.” When he joined the other workers, she wiped a tear from her eye.

***

That night, the tired family lounged on the porch and relished the accomplishments of the day. The summer cicadas’ shrill songs shattered the twilight’s tranquility. In the corner of the front yard, a velvet-soft breeze lifted the willow tree’s limbs in a floating motion. Soon the deepening darkness sparkled with flashing fireflies like dancing stars. In the stillness, Lydia sent a chaste prayer to the shimmering stars and asked the angels to relay her thankfulness for such a blessed life.

Country Entertainment

Rural life was not all work. Local farmers didn’t work late in the fields on Saturdays. The rural families knew that the surrounding small towns kept their stores open so that farmers and their families could shop for the next week’s needs.

Farm wives wore their best hats and gloves. Their husbands wore a clean pair of clothes and had changed from their dusty shoes. Community members strolled along the dusty wooden sidewalks and talked with their neighbors. Young children played tag in the street while the young adults stood on corners and hoped to gain a special person’s attention.

Farm wives used Saturday nights as an opportunity to browse the mercantile and grocery stores for new pots, pans, or shoes. Lydia anticipated the sensory experience of Mueller’s Grocery and Hardware store. The aroma of spices such as nutmeg, ginger, and cloves reminded Lydia of a Thanksgiving pie. Lamp oils and scented candles added their fragrances to the air and mingled with the vanilla and cherry aroma from the lined tins of Prince Albert pipe tobacco.

“Don’t you love the smell of new merchandise?” Helen squeezed Lydia’s arm and dragged her further into the store. Multiple aisles of flat tables which displayed stacks of shiny tins, cooking pots, and utensils. As Lydia and her sister-in-law strolled along the aisle of piled cotton shirts and denim overalls, Lydia contemplated that she might buy her husband a new denim shirt. As she glanced over the choices, Anna leaned over Lydia’s shoulder.

“We have enough shirts.” She ripped the shirt front Lydia’s fingers. “Don’t waste our family’s money.” She threw it onto the table and continued further along the aisle. Lydia’s clenched her fists, mumbled a curse word but then silently repented.

Stomping to the next table, Lydia picked up a new pair of boots and inhaled the smell of the newly polished leather. She gazed around for her mother-in-law and mumbled to herself. Better not say that I can’t smell the merchandise. That doesn’t cost any money!

At the end of the outing, parents called down the street and gathered their weary children. Wives roamed down the board sidewalks and located their husbands. Local friends and kinsfolk piled into their automobile or horse-drawn buggy and shouted their farewells, ready to drive home and share what news they learned.

After the final two months of summer heat had licked any moisture from the crops, September inched over the Nebraska landscape. One day the balmy afternoon might lull the crops into ripening. The next day’s misty skies chilled flora and fauna. The dance of weather patterns craftly repainted the countryside. Rust-colored sumac, the yellow leaves of the elm and cottonwood trees, along with the blooming golden rod and sunflowers jumbled their colors together like puzzle pieces, mixing and mingling in concert. Brisk autumn mornings reminded humans and animals alike that the end of casual living was close at hand.

Although the winds of winter remained three months off, nature threw off its extra baggage and commenced the harvest preparations. Between the September rains and placid October afternoons, Helen and Lydia collected the last of the ripened vegetables and cleared the dead foliage. Just potatoes, onions, and pumpkins lingered. Along small creeks and roadside ditches, wild plums grew heavy on their branches. Lydia and Helen took advantage of any mellow day and gathered the fruit for winter jams.

The Native Americans named the full September moon — the Corn Moon — which announced that it was time to harvest their crops. The late October full moon — the Falling Leaves Moon or the Hunter’s Moon — signaled the best time to hunt wild game. It was under these two full moons that the Kramer family harvested their fields at night. Nearer to the earth during this season, each moon hung bright in the night sky and illuminated the rows and stalks of corn. The crops needed to be harvested before autumn rains or and an early snow made the fields impassible.

Once a sharp frost wrung the last moisture from the corn stalks, Albert, his brothers, and father, readied their wagons for picking corn by hand. During the daylight hours, Lydia waited at the end of the rows with a jug of water and sandwiches for the Kramer men as they walked the corn rows and ripped the hanging ears from the stalk. Utilizing corn hooks, the dry ears were torn from the stalk and thrown over the men’s shoulders into a waiting wagon. The team of trained mules walked along the men at a slow pace.

During the night hours, Lydia once again waited at the end of the row. This time, she held a jug of hot coffee and cookies. Although the hours were tedious, Lydia relished the sweet smell of drying corn mixed with romantic moon shadows. Of course, she didn’t admit such frivolous ideas to Anna.

After the corn was picked, day and night, Emil led the mules back to the farm and parked the wagon under the roof of the corn crib. During the following weeks, Albert and the Kramer men divided the ears into three piles. One pile was used as feed for the hogs and cows that autumn. The second pile of corn ears were shoveled into the corncrib for feeding the animals during the winter. The last pile would be shelled and used as seed in the coming spring.

***

The third week of October, Emil and Herman rushed into the kitchen with news. “Hey, the Wilke household is hosting a corn husking See next Saturday night!”

“Oh, boy.” Anna huffed and threw her hands in the air. “More apple jack and kissing. The community sure needs this silliness.”

“Oh, Mother, you’re no fun.” Emil hooted but didn’t wait for her reaction.

Exhausted after weeks of pulling corn ears from the browned stalks, farmers had found an easier way to shell the kernels. Neighbors invited their friends to attend cornhusking bees which included tables of tasty food. By the end of the fun social, the farmer would have most of his corn shelled.

The harvested ears of corn were piled in the center of a corncrib or marked area. The hosting farmer painted several ears red and hid them within the pile. During the cornhusking bee, people, especially those unmarried, perched on logs or straw bales and rubbed off the dried corn kernels into waiting buckets. If a young person found a red ear of corn — male or female — the prize was the chance to kiss a person of his choosing.

Horses and buggies, people on foot, and the Kramers’ automobile formed a line on the dusty road leading to the Wilke farm. Once there, friends called out to each other as families placed their food offerings on the rows of long tables. Anna brought two apple pies and a large stoneware bowl of steaming mashed potatoes. Helen and Lydia had baked two cakes with butter icing.

Mrs. Wilke greeted the neighborhood women, “Come here! Join the ladies.” Lydia’s mother waved to her daughter with a large grin. Lydia scurried off and visited her mother while Helen joined friends. Standing alone on the outer perimeters of the conversations, Anna glared and remained silent. Mr. Kramer, Albert, and his brothers gathered with the neighboring men including Lydia’s father and two brothers. Smoke from pipes and cigars mingled with the taste of apple cider and friendly conversation.

Next to the corn crib, Mr. Wilke had arranged rows of amber straw bales from the summer’s wheat fields into a circle around the corn pile. Then they were covered with horse blankets and encouraged young people to sit and visit. A blazing bonfire roared a few feet away and provided light and warmth to the crisp air which was filled with the smell of autumn leaves.

“Helen, go join them.” Lydia encouraged her sister-in law.

“No, I’m too old. It’s for younger girls.” But Helen’s eyes scanned the crowd and searched for a face.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Oh, no one.” She winked and shot Lydia a sly smirk.

Around eight o’clock, Mr. Wilke called out for those wishing to participate in the corn husking bee. About twenty young boys and girls crowded in. Lydia’s brothers-in-law claimed the first spots. Young ladies, aware Herman was near the age for marriage, batted their eyes and showed their best smiles. Emil needed more years of maturing, but girls still vied for his attention.

After Mr. Wilke counted to ten, each person grabbed an ear of corn and started shelling the kernels into a bucket. Hands worked fast while their owners teased and cheered. All sudden, Herman leaped in the air and raised a red ear of corn high. “I found one!” Hands stopped, and faces lifted; sly grins fell over the crowd as Herman strolled around the circle of participants. Young girls giggled and elbowed each other as he pranced around twice.

Friends snickered when Herman stopped and tapped Martha Mueller’s shoulder. Her red face stared at the ground but then she rose and turned toward him. Young joys whistled when Herman lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes for dramatic effect. After he wholesomely kissed her cheek, hands clapped, voices cheered, and boys whistled. Neighbors snickered, convinced a new romance had begun.

Lydia’s mouth hung open, surprised by Herman’s attention to Martha. But when she nudged Helen with her elbow, Helen smirked and shrugged. Lydia glanced around to see Albert’s reaction, but her eyes landed on Anna Kramer. Her mother-in-law’s stoic face emerged from the crowd without a smile.

Hands resumed shelling. Over and over, a young person found a red ear of corn. The action stopped until a sweetheart received a kiss. Then with gusto, fast hands started again. Then Emil’s voice shouted, and he leapt into the air holding a red ear of corn. Lydia couldn’t guess whom he might choose.

Grinning, he rounded the circle for the first time and slowed near sixteen-year-old, Bertha Busch. Slyly, he continued. Her face drooped, and her lips pouted. With his finger tapping his lips as if in a candy store, Emil continued around the circle again. This time, her brother-in-law stopped behind Bertha and tapped the attractive girl’s shoulder. His kiss, quick and respectable, landed on her lips as cheers and whistles rang out. From the corner of her eye, Lydia again caught Anna Kramer watching. This time, Emil’s mother had crossed her arms while her face displayed her obvious anger.

Mr. Wilke announced the final round of shelling, and Helen left out a disappointed sigh. Frantic hands began in a flurry until a voice yelled out. “I found one!” William Jepsen who lived on a farm near Mannstown rose and held the last red ear. Lydia noticed that Helen held her breath.

The group quieted in anticipation, but William wasted no time being coy. He marched around the circle until he approached Helen. He tapped her shoulder and grinned before he leaned in and kissed Helen on the mouth. Once the kiss ended, his gaze remained until Helen shyly broke eye contact. The neighboring participants cheered as he returned to his original place. Quickly, Lydia turned her head toward Anna just in time to see her mother-in-law push back into the crowd. Oh boy, what’s going to happen when we get home?

Once the fiddler and a guitar player arrived, the music and merriment began. Albert and Lydia danced until midnight under a massive harvest moon. During the drive home, Lydia pondered the enjoyment she and her neighbors experienced. She was also confused about her mother-in-law’s reactions to the night’s festivities. She soon found out.

“Well, I witnessed how you allowed a strange boy to kiss you, Helen.” Anna snapped at her daughter. “You need to be more concerned about your reputation.”

“He is from church! William and I were confirmed together!” Her daughter pleaded for leniency.

“Anna, let her be.” Walter spoke in a quiet yet stern voice. “The young people were having great fun tonight.”

“I can guess why you aren’t concerned. I still remember that night.” Anna hissed. “But our children kissed in front of the whole community. Where was their discretion!”

“Good grief, Anna. Why can’t you forget that misunderstanding?” His voice growled. “Do you want to keep your children from marriage and raising their own family?” He glanced at his wife and shook his head. “I can’t understand your sternness.”

When the Kramer family reached their home, Anna jumped out of the automobile and rushed into her bedroom. The walls of the house shuddered when she slammed the door.

Helen dashed up the stairs and retreated into her bedroom.

Lydia and Albert stood in the kitchen, raised their eyebrows, and snickered. Arm in arm, they climbed the stairs to their room to end the evening as only those in love can do.

New Hopes

Two days before Thanksgiving’s arrival, Lydia threw off her wool blanket and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. As she dangled her feet near the cold floorboards, a wave of nausea raced over her. What’s going on? Before she could answer her question, vomit projected from her mouth and splattered onto the floor. Disbelief turned to panic.

Lydia could hear Anna banging pans in the kitchen. No, I don’t want her here. “Helen, are you there? Come quick!”

When her sister-in-law rushed into the room, she stopped short by the sickening odor. “What happened?” Helen gawked at Lydia, “Are you sick? Do you have a fever?”

“Shh, help me clean this mess.” Lydia grabbed a towel from the nearby basin.

“But, what’s wrong? Should I get Mother?”

“Good grief, no!” Lydia raised her ashen face in panic. “Just be quiet.” Light-headed, Lydia plopped down on the bed. “My menstrual periods haven’t arrived for two months. I might be pregnant.”

Helen’s eyes widened as she inhaled. Before she could say another word, Lydia stopped her. “Don’t tell yet. I want to be sure. Okay?”

Helen skipped over the splattered mess and hugged Lydia. “A baby.” She cooed. “We could use a new project to cheer this family. A baby will be the perfect thing.”

***

By Christmas Eve, Lydia was confident about her pregnancy and planned on sharing the news after the Christmas service. The country church where she and Albert married greeted them with kerosene lights blazing in the windows and burning torches planted in the snowdrifts outside. Snowflakes floated in the frigid air and created a magical winter atmosphere. Lydia could not suppress the smile on her face.

Inside, the glow of flickering Christmas candles and the pungent aroma of fresh-cut pine wreaths filled the parishioners’ senses. Near the pulpit stood the decorated Christmas fir tree cut from the Hansens’ farm. No lit candles flickered on the branches for fear of fire. But the paper ornaments and collected heirloom decorations filled the limbs heralding back to the congregations’ German and Swedish history hung from the scented branches.

The Kramers and Lydia’s parents — joined by numerous aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends — raised their voices especially during the favorite Christmas hymns sung in German. Lydia’s Aunt Alice played the manual pump organ with zeal. Her thick body swayed back and forth as her legs pumped pedals which pushed air into the organ’s bellows. Filled with Christmas enthusiasm, the organist resembled a steam engine. Lydia watched the children’s program and imagined her soon-to-be child reciting the Christmas story. Later as they stepped out into the frosty winter air, Lydia grasped Albert’s arm. “Doesn’t it look like a fantasy land? Can you smell the snow-covered pine trees?”

The young man gazed into his wife’s face. “You’re a wonder, Mrs. Kramer. You help me see life through the eyes of an artist.”

Radiant moon teams drifted toward earth, glistened off the snow, and mirrored the twinkling stars in the heavens. Lydia was glad no large buildings blocked the magnificent view of the expansive winter sky and the Milky Way above. She raised her eyes toward the heavens and acknowledged her blessings especially Albert and her growing child.

***

The Kramer family piled out of the automobile, stomped the snow off their shoes, and gathered around their Christmas tree. In brief time, Anna carried hot cocoa and cookies to the family members which proved that the Christmas service had mellowed her mood. After the small gifts were exchanged, Lydia rose from her cushioned chair.

“Ah, everyone, I want to share my news.” Lydia’s voice quivered as she watched her husband’s surprised face. Glancing at the other family members, she giggled. “I am quite sure that my husband and I are expecting a baby in early summer.”

Spilling his cup of hot chocolate, the father-to-be jumped up. “Really?” He lifted Lydia up in his arms and kissed her long and hard.

“Albert!” Lydia glanced at her mother-in-law and flushed.

Helen cheered and clapped her hands followed by the rest of the family. Walter Kramer leaped from his rocking chair and embraced Lydia in a warm, soft hug. “Did you hear, Anna? You’re going to be a grandmother.”

Anna answered with a slim, pressed smile, “Well, I guess we will spend the next cold months sewing a layette.”

Lydia studied her mother-in-law’s reaction and was unable to read her dark eyes and blank face. Surely, she can’t be jealous of my news.

***

December 1927 was the start of a series of harsh winters for America’s midsection, especially Nebraska. Towering snow drifts blocked country roads blocking trips to town or church. The short hours of frail daylight complicated the daily chores, especially feeding the farm animals. Frigid temperatures and mounting snow falls were no justifications to stay in the house all day. Milk cows needed feed, water, and routine milkings. Eggs were essential for breakfast and baking.

For their safety, Albert and his brothers tied a rope which led from the house to the barn so that no one would lose their way during a blinding blizzard. Another rope tethered the house to the chicken coop. Inside the Kramer home was a sharp contrast to the deep blackness of the long nights. The family played games, cards, or read novels. The women, including Anna, huddled at the kitchen table, and sewed blankets and sleeping gowns for the future Kramer member.

One January morning, Albert burst into the house, stomped the snow from his boots, and blew his warm breath on his hands. “The air temperature is dropping fast. Cold, dark clouds are building in the west. I predict snow.” He wiped his hands through his hair as he plopped down at the kitchen table. By the next morning, a blinding blizzard blocked any visibility by more than six feet. Once again, heavy snow blanketed Nebraska and much of the Midwest. Worse than in December, animals struggled for survival.

While the harsh winds blew with uncontrollable anger, the plaster walls trembled in fear and the dishes in the cupboard rattled in dis- tress. Snow amassed to the eaves of the house, and the temperature plummeted to minus forty-plus degrees. Although the house was buried in a winter’s cocoon of snow, the Kramer family remained warm and safe. Anna opened her cupboards filled with preserves or climbed down into the cellar for dried beans and ham. The women’s summer work in the garden and the preservation of its bounty kept the fear of survival at bay.

Lydia scratched a viewing portal from the frosted kitchen window and leaned her head against the chilled pane. She found the winter of 1925 winter to be a paradox. Days of grey loneliness were followed by a sun blazing so bright it hurt one’s eyes. Velvet-edged snowdrifts resembled iridescent mountaintops. Glistening icicles formed artistic shapes which hung in front of the roof. Rugged fence posts were now painted white only on one side from the wind-driven snow.

Lydia sighed safe and secure in her warm haven while the snowflakes, fat and wet, fluttered to the ground. She reminded herself that the cold peace and deep silence functioned as a blanket which covered nature and protected sleeping plants until next spring. But for now, the sculptured snow drifts dazzled and danced across the yard. Ice-covered fields and fences imitated fairytale fantasy lands.

However, snow was not the lone danger during the long, winter months. In February, a brief thaw allowed a small reprieve from the freezing temperatures. The wind and snow ceased one morning, and a warm sun shimmered on the sparkling blanket of snow with a blinding brilliance. The sun’s intensity melted the snow during the day; but each dark night, the moisture refroze.

It was essential that everyone be alert while walking outside.

Lydia forgot.

It was essential that everyone be alert while walking outside.

Lydia forgot.

Lydia scratched the ice from the kitchen’s frosted window and strained to recognize the barn through the blowing snow. She could barely visualize the outlines of the animals near the barn. Milk cows huddled together with their snow-encrusted backs turned into the gusting wind to protect their faces. Ice icicles stuck to their eyelashes and around their noses. She was mesmerized when Herman carried an axe to the ice-covered water tank. He swung the tool over his shoulder and thrust the axe down onto the ice covering. Unsuccessful, he swung the hatchet once more. Shards of ice and water splashed out and covered his coat. He jumped over the fence to escape the desperate cattle that bumped into and pushed one another for water.

A frigid draft rushed into the kitchen when Helen barreled into the house from gathering eggs. She swiped the snow off the long underwear beneath her dress. Her cheeks radiated a red glow from battling the winter’s frosty breath. “It’s too cold for our hens. They sit on the roosts, fluff up their feathers, and huddle together for body heat. One of these days, I’ll find frozen eggs in the nests.”

***

Cold Pain

Year after year, Walter Kramer’s birthday was celebrated on the 13th of February. This year marked his forty-sixth year of life. In the past years, Anna created a special supper with his favorite dessert. For two days prior, the three women baked cakes and his favorite cinnamon rolls which hidden in the cellar.

However, on the morning of his birthday supper, Anna rose in a foul mood. She woke everyone from slumber while she slammed kitchen cupboards doors and banged pots and pans — always a warning sign. At the kitchen table, Walter slurped his morning coffee while his finger pressed against his saucer for any remaining crumbles of his special cinnamon rolls. His head drooped low, but his voice growled from deep in his throat. “Come on, Anna. Don’t start trouble today.”

Anna threw a spoon into the basin which clanged like a kicked bucket. “What do you mean?” She spun around and glared at her husband. Her nostrils flared and resembled an enraged horse. “I’ve worked the past days for you, old man!” Her voice echoed off the kitchen walls and the sound of her angry sarcasm bounced off the corners of the kitchen.

Walter raised his head, peered over his nose, and glared at his wife like a furious dog. “Well, don’t do it then.” He pushed his chair back with a snort of hot air, stomped out of the kitchen, and headed for the barn without another word.

Lydia had learned that her father-in-law’s method of managing his wife’s temper and meanness was to leave the house and abandon the rest of them. Lydia moaned to herself, Thank, Walter. Anna gawked at the now empty chair while her jaw jetted out in defiance. But then her grey eyes clouded with regret.

Uncomfortable from her outbursts that morning, everyone ate their noon meal with heads bowed and voices silent. The eldest son attempted to create household cohesiveness. “Mother, I can’t wait for supper tonight. Your birthday suppers are always delicious beyond compare.”

She shrugged, but a sneer emerged when she glanced over at her husband’s rigid face. “We’ll see if everyone appreciates it. This will be the last, who knows?” Anna busied herself in the kitchen icing the cakes while the pork roast baked in the oven. In the late afternoon, Lydia and Helen peeled potatoes. “Make sure those peelings get thrown out for the chickens,” Anna barked. “The hens need the extra nourishment during this weather.” Lydia and Helen nodded their heads and didn’t realize Anna demanded verbal assurance. “Did you hear me? Where’s your respect, Helen?”

“Yes, Mother, sorry.” Helen’s hands trembled. As she clenched the knife, she pushed it too far into the potato. The paring knife sliced deep into her finger and blood spilled out.

“Helen, here let me help.” Lydia sprinted across the room, grabbed a dish rag from the counter, and wrapped it around Helen’s bloody finger.

“Leave her be! If she doesn’t know how to peel potatoes, she can suck on it herself.” Anna grabbed Helen’s chin with one hand. Her angry breath made Helen’s cheeks turn red. As the mother squeezed the chin tight, she leaned into her daughter’s face. “And don’t bleed all over the potatoes.”

Helen nodded and continued paring potatoes while her cheeks and neck flushed, and she stifled her sobs. Although Lydia stared at the bowl of peeled spuds and didn’t say a word, her heart ached for Helen. Anna’s actions are despicable.

When at last the men sauntered in from chores, the birthday supper began. “Happy birthday, Father. How many centuries old are you?” Emil teased. “I hope I can still toss hay as good as you can when I am a hundred years old.” The youngest son slapped his father on the back.

Anna Kramer scrutinized the table and made sure everything sat ready. Her mood was still dark, but she hadn’t uttered a word since Walter marched in from the barn. As she prowled around the table, her sneer resembled an angry dog. Without warning, she whirled around. “Lydia, stop standing there in a fog. Go to the cellar and bring some cream for the dessert cake.”

Lydia jumped at Anna’s sharp voice, and Albert’s head jolted at the exchange. He frowned while his eyes watched his wife scurry with a look of fear on her face. Lydia grabbed a shawl, dashed out the back door, and headed for the cellar. Anna’s shrill voice still rang in Lydia’s mind, and she didn’t focus on the refrozen ice.

Just as Lydia planted her foot on the first step of the cellar stairs, it landed on ice. Her feet flew up, and her body suspended in the air. Her brain waited for the inevitable. A loud snap sounded as she landed on the stairsteps.

Dazed, she turned onto her stomach and slid down the final five steps. The sound of her pained scream echoed in the wintry night. Somewhere in the rushing darkness, Lydia perceived Albert’s voice calling out her name.

But then a sharp pain seared through Lydia’s body, and her brain closed a black curtain.

Colder Reality

Later in the morning when Lydia’s mother readied for home, Lydia’s heart wished to go with Meta and sleep in her old bedroom. She yearned to savor the security she experienced as a little girl.

But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was now a wife, and a grieving mother. Her place remained here in her new home with her spouse.

“God, help us all.” Lydia whispered before she kissed her husband’s lip.

“Mother, come hold my hand.” Lydia yearned for her mother’s gentle strength.

“We put her little body in a small, wooden box.” The grieving father whispered. “We’ll keep her there until we can bury her next week.”

“I want to see her. What did she look like?” Lydia reached out her hand and implored her husband and Dr. Burns. “Can I see her?” Lydia’s mother squeezed her daughter’s hand and wept.

***

“Lydia, this is a terrible time in your life. But I plead with you to find peace about Anna.”

“What, how can you say such a thing?” Lydia glared at her mother in disbelief.

“I want to see her. What did she look like?” Lydia reached out her hand and implored her husband and Dr. Burns. “Can I see her?” Lydia’s mother squeezed her daughter’s hand and wept.

***

“Lydia, this is a terrible time in your life. But I plead with you to find peace about Anna.”

“What, how can you say such a thing?” Lydia glared at her mother in disbelief.

“I want to see her. What did she look like?” Lydia reached out her hand and implored her husband and Dr. Burns. “Can I see her?” Lydia’s mother squeezed her daughter’s hand and wept.

***

“Lydia, this is a terrible time in your life. But I plead with you to find peace about Anna.”

“What, how can you say such a thing?” Lydia glared at her mother in disbelief.

“Well, I can’t right now. I don’t want to. I hate her.” Lydia closed her eyes. She didn’t want to talk anymore.

Finally, Lydia again turned to her mother. “It’s not fair, Mother. I didn’t do anything wrong. Why was my baby taken away?” Her mother appreciated Lydia’s anger but reminded her daughter.

She yearned to scream at Anna. Berate her. Hate her. But it wasn’t the right thing. The family’s cohesiveness required Lydia’s forgiveness. God would help.

The Coldness of Death

The month following Walter’s birthday, March 1925, produced a weeklong snowstorm that pounded Platte County. Farmers struggled to save their livestock, especially the newborn calves born in snow drifts. Throughout the sharp cold spell, Walter Kramer demanded that he do his part and declared himself solid and able. For hours, he scooped along the high, drifted fence lines and axed through the ice that covered the livestock tank. He was the first man out in the cold mornings, and the last one entering the warm house at nightfall.

At the supper meal the week of March, Walter leaned low over his coffee cup. Sweat dripped from his brow as he whispered, “I don’t want dessert. I think I’ll turn in early.”

Heads jerked up in surprise. Walter’s nightly ritual involved reading his newspapers by kerosene lamp in the parlor. He was always the last person in bed. “Are you alright, Walter?” Anna reached over and placed her hand on his damp brow.

He thrust her hand away and growled. “Don’t get all silly. I’m fine!” Since Walter Kramer never shouted at his wife, everyone’s eyes widened. The family sensed something was very wrong.

“No, you’re not. You’ve got a fever,” Anna Kramer’s face turned white with concern. “Get in bed!”

Walter shoved his chair with such force, it slammed backward onto the floor. Spinning around, he staggered against the bedroom door jam and retreated to his bed without removing his clothes. Anna jumped from the table and barked orders to the stunned faces, “Get out the rags! We’re in for a long night.”

Anna called out the commands, and the family jumped into action. Helen darted into the pantry and brought out mustard for a plaster to radiate heat into his chest and sinuses. Albert grabbed an enamel pan, sprinted outside, and filled it with snow to rub on his father’s hot body. Lydia grabbed the kettle and started boiling water for medicinal tea and honey.

When Anna laid the plaster on Walter’s chest, her husband didn’t resist. Everyone knew for sure that something was very, very wrong. They silently waited for further commands. Throughout the next hours, Walter Kramer coughed out spital, gasped for breath, trembled with chills, and laid covered in sweat.

“We’re calling the doctor from Platte City,” Anna hovered over her husband the next morning.

“No! I’ve just got a cold. I forbid you. Ya hear?” Anna followed his wishes as Walter struggled for four, long days. Finally, he allowed the doctor to come.

Standing over the ill man, the physician completed his examination and sighed. “Walter, you’re sick with pneumonia but too weak to move to the hospital.” Everyone gasped. Hospitals were considered the last option. “But I don’t think there are any medications which would help anyway.” The doctor shook his head. “We must simply wait and see.”

Each day Anna pleaded and then argued with Walter. “You oughtn’t have gone out in the cold. You know it!” Anna — the woman who never showed her emotions — now cried in fear. But Walter closed his eyes and ignored her. “You’re getting even with me for your birthday supper, aren’t you?” Lydia wondered if Walter’s heart hurt as he listened to his indignant wife. She hoped Walter recognized how much Anna loved him.

The last day, Anna sat crumpled on the floor near Walter’s head. Exhausted, she leaned against the bed and pleaded. “I’m sorry, Walter. I was wrong about that woman kissing you at the corn husking bee years ago. I won’t be mean anymore.”

Their mother’s pleading confused her children. “What is she talking about?”

“l love you so much. You can’t leave me, Walter. You can’t leave me.” At last, Anna begged for Walter’s forgiveness about things she left unsaid.

When Walter’s body turned bluish grey from lack of oxygen, he breathed with small rasping sounds and didn’t respond to anyone’s voice. The pastor came and prayed with Walter and the family members. But it was obvious that the end was near. When his breath departed, slow and faint, the family surrounded their beloved, quiet-spoken, father. Ten days after he had left the kitchen table, Walter Kramer passed away.

Anna lingered in silence over her husband. Abruptly with her head low, she turned from the bed and left the room. Anna refused to give or receive any comfort from her children. Without a word, she threw on her coat and marched into the snowy pasture. Unable to soften her resolve, Anna remained alone and grieved in the one way she knew. After an hour, Albert nodded at Lydia and left the house. When he returned, he led his shivering mother, but Anna remained mute in her grief.

On the last blustery day of March, Walter Kramer was buried at the country church cemetery beside the tiny gravestone of his granddaughter, Mercy. Relatives and friends surrounded the Kramers at the gravesite, and the minister prayed for everyone’s healing.

However, in addition to the sorrow of their father’s passing, the Kramer family had also lost their mother. Anna Kramer lived with the household but remained remote. She spent her days in Walter’s rocking chair and stared out the west window at the pasture. Lydia’s heart ached for this woman, so alone in her grief.

***

Sadly, life goes on. Albert and Lydia would never forget their tiny, perfect baby who left them too soon. On the calendar, April had finally arrived; but winter wouldn’t ease its grip. Spring hid behind cold clouds and chilly winds. At the end of May — the day of Lydia and Albert’s first anniversary — Lydia shared her news at the evening meal.

“One year has passed since I joined this family. Joy and sadness have filled the year.” She paused and wiped a tear. “But I would never live anywhere or with anyone else other than this household.”

The family members, including Anna, clapped, and cheered.

“I know this next year will be more eventful.” Lydia produced a sly snicker. “A new baby will join us this coming November.”

This time, Anna beamed and hugged her daughter-in-law. “How wonderful. Walter would have been so glad.”

Albert’s eyes open wide in surprise at his mother’s reaction. But Lydia relished this moment of change in their relationship. Later, in the quiet of their bedroom, tears filled Albert and Lydia’s eyes as they remembered their first baby, Mercy. The parents would never forget their tiny baby who had left them too soon, but she waited for them in Heaven. God now granted them the blessing of another coming child.

In the solace of her heart, Lydia celebrated their survival of the difficult first year of marriage. She believed she was now truly a farmer’s wife and a part of the family. Lydia insisted to herself, Now, my storybook life will resume.

How could she know that the next ten years would be more difficult?

Blessings Before the Storm

Each Sunday meant church — no one missed the opportunity. Church was a place of faith but also one of community. Sizzling summer months were tolerated with potluck dinners and ice cream socials on the church lawn. Neighbors attended, showed off new babies, bonded with old friends, and learned new gossip.

Since the sun-bleached wheat field crops had flourished for the past couple of summers, the Kramers had set money aside and now purchased their first Roger’s Model 130 radio. Operating on a battery which used three dials and five identical tubes, the family kept current with news and weather reports. Nightly after supper, the family gathered like church members who settled in their favorite pew.

Albert chose a large chair with a leather seat ottoman. Anna used the sewing chair next to the oil lamp and mended socks. Herman and Emil spread out on the floor with a checkerboard between them. Lydia and Helen worked together over a small table and completed jigsaw puzzles. Everyone listened to the Grand Ole Opry Barn Dance from Nashville, Tennessee and cackled at short skits and comedy acts. Emil listened to westerns including the Lone Ranger while Anna enjoyed the Jack Benny radio show. On occasional Saturday nights, Herman and Emil invited friends to radio parties. They sat on the parlor floor and listened to radio series featuring the Green Hornet, westerns, and baseball games.

Herman, now twenty-two-years-old, received permission from his mother and invited Martha Mueller. They had courted the corn husking bee while Anna kept a close eye on the couple. Observing Martha’s shyness around Anna resurrected sad memories for Lydia. As she revisited those years of doubt, it reminded her how much her own confidence had grown.

The next two months brought pleasant weather and abundant crops. Joy was added to the Kramer family when Lydia’s first child, Walter Albert Kramer, was welcomed into the family on a wintery morning in November 1925. The birth lasted ten long hours but was uneventful. Meta attended the labor and birth bringing her mature knowledge and patience. Walt soon became the center of the Kramer household.

Caring for a baby in the winter had challenges. At bath time, Lydia placed a filled basin with warm water on the opened oven door. As the heat radiated out, she bathed her son. Next, Helen and Anna positioned themselves ready to wrap baby Walt in warm towels. The newest Kramer received much love and attention from the three women who worshiped him.

***

The good life continued into the new year, 1929. Herman and Martha Mueller married that summer in a quiet wedding. Watching Martha saunter down the aisle reminded Lydia of her wedding day. That night — when she heard Herman and Martha creep up the stairs for their first night as a married couple — a smile appeared as she remembered her special night with Albert. A month later, Herman managed to sign a share-cropping arrangement for one hundred and sixty acres and a farmhouse five miles west of the Kramer farm. The family was grateful that he and Martha would be so near.

Emil, now twenty-one, lived with the family and courted Bertha Busch. Although Anna Kramer loudly proclaimed that Emil was too young to consider married life, the rest of the family members expected an engagement in another year.

Lydia was thankful for Helen who always wore a smile on her face except when around her mother. Lydia hoped her sister-in-law would marry a man who lived nearby. She didn’t want to miss any of Helen’s happiness. Now seventeen, Helen had matured into a beauty. Al-though she received letters from young men at church, she only cared for the boy who kissed her at the cornhusking bee, William Jepson. “Lydia, mother won’t talk to me about getting married someday. I don’t know the first thing about courting or what I need to know about becoming a wife. Will you help me?”

“You already know how to be a good farm homemaker. The other things about married life, I promise to help you.” The sisters began spending hours embroidering pillow slips and making table linens.

***

As autumn 1929 approached, drying field crops waved in the warm Nebraska wind and promised a good harvest. Brown corn ears drooped and announced their maturity. The rural world revealed its bounty.

“Boy, smell that autumn air! I love the musty smell of fallen leaves.” Lydia scrolled around the farmyard with her nine-month-old son. The toddler clung onto his mother’s hand while he attempted to walk on the uneven ground. The annual transformation of the countryside blazed in the sun and combined yellow and brown hues in the fields and on the trees. Flowers and weeds dropped their leaves and displayed their seed heads. The corn turned brown; the ears hung low, ready for harvest.

Life was good, or so everyone hoped.

Battling Bad Decisions, Weather, and Luck

“Don’t cry, Walt. Mama and Papa will keep you safe,” Lydia hugged her young son and tried to control her trembling hands.

The havoc continued as the chewing insects covered plants and any object they touched. Fence posts moaned and weakened from the gnawing. Wooden garden rakes and hoes laid in the garden smothered by crawling bugs. Albert, Emil, and Anna hurled blankets and rugs to beat off the grasshoppers off any wooden farm equipment.

Exhausted, they bolted back into the house. Gasping for air, they washed off the sticky residue from the grasshoppers’ mouths and feet. “I’ll check the barn and animals!” When Emil sprinted toward the barn doors, he slipped on the slimy, moving ground and fell into the oily mass.

In his mind, Albert thanked God that the wheat and oats which had been harvested the prior week now sat safe in the granary. He prayed the wooden doors kept out the invading bugs. Throughout the afternoon and evening, the fields, buildings, and animals remained under siege as additional legions of insects arrived.

After the skulking grasshoppers consumed any growing life in the fields and garden, the black devastation swarmed and attacked the house. The creatures thudded against the single-paned windows and punched on the outside doors. The pounding sounded as loud as hail stones on the roof. Searching for more food, the invaders devoured paint on the house siding and gnawed on the window frames.

Anna set bread, jams, and jellies on the table and searched for cheese and any other cold food to make a quick supper. However, a sense of defeat surrounded the family members as they listened to the grasshoppers’ attack. The Kramers had tried what measures they could. They now waited to see what would remain the next morning. “Maybe we need to pray,” Anna suggested.

Albert’s head jerked up and his face contorted. He wore a searing stare and used a livid voice as he challenged his mother. “God created those creatures!” His angry shouts startled those at the table. Walt turned his face into his mother’s breast and whimpered. “Are we being punished? What did we do?” Albert’s eyes bulged out while he stomped around the kitchen and wiped his hand through his hair. “What are we going to do?”

Anna was speechless. Her son had never spoken so harshly. She jutted out her chin and lengthened her back. “God made cows and butterflies, but they don’t harm us.”

Albert leaned down near his mother’s face, “If there are no crops left, no garden, no hay for winter feed, what are we going to do?” The frightened farmer sneered like a crazed dog. “What will we do?” His face burned red with anger.

“Albert, quiet, you’re scaring your son.” Anna pleaded.

“But mother, don’t you see? These damned creatures ate our entire future!” Albert thrust his clenched fist over his head. “We tried so hard!” With a violent thrust, he hammered his fist on the kitchen table. Then defeated, he crumpled onto the kitchen chair and leaned his head on his arms. “We made such wonderful plans!”

Anna Kramer vaulted out of her chair and stood over Albert and leaned onto his shoulder. “We are Christians. We trust in our Lord. If you don’t want to pray, I will.” She pushed past her oldest son and slammed her bedroom door.

On the morning of October 29, 1929, the lives of all Americans changed. Rich or poor, young, or old, rural, or urban — all of America would be affected. Wall Street investors had predicted that the Roaring Twenties’ stock market would continue to rise. Now, the radio broadcasters announced that those same investors had sold off their stocks at such a rapid pace that — whether realizing or not — their actions threw Americans into a chaotic and dark period of history. Middle-class Americans didn’t understand the consequences until the towers of the American economy came crashing down.

***

Early the next Monday afternoon, Albert rushed into the house with his eyes bugged out wide. “Did you hear? There was a run on the Bank in Platte City Bank this morning.”

“What? Did people get hurt?” Lydia covered her mouth. The Kramer household were friends with most families in the community. “Did they get their money?”

“I don’t know about anyone getting hurt; but I heard at the feed store in Platte City that people demanded their money but got pushed out of the Bank empty-handed.” He passed his hand through his hair, “I drove past the bank; but the doors are closed and locked.”

“What about our money? Is it still there?” Stunned, Lydia, who often helped with their farm records and accounting, grabbed onto her husband’s arm. “What do you think we should do? Should we drive to the bank tomorrow and try to get our money out?”

“I don’t know.” Her husband paced on the porch. Shaking his head. Albert — like most Americans — had no knowledge of such situations. He had no references or experiences to guide him. “I don’t know, honest, Lydia.”

“What’s going on, Albert?” Anna entered the kitchen and sensed trouble; concerned, she peered into her son’s eyes.

“Mother, we need to talk.” He led her into her bedroom and closed the door.

Helen strolled into the room as her brother stepped out of his mother’s room. Her eyebrows raised, and her eyes widened. “What’s the matter? Your face is white.”

“Tell ya, later.” Albert rushed out to the barn. He and Emil jumped into their car and drove over to talk with brother, Herman. The Kramers had never experienced the possibility of losing all their money. When the brothers returned, Albert headed toward the house with a look of determination.

“My brothers and I think we ought to go into town first thing tomorrow and withdraw our money. We won’t be able to get it all, but we hope we can get enough to live on.” The family sat at the supper table in silence, unable to think of anything else.

Early the next morning, Albert with Lydia, Herman, and Emil started out the kitchen door to drive into Platte City. “I’m going too!” Anna Kramer’s face turned red, “I have money, too.”

“Mother, it may be tense there and maybe dangerous. Let us go this time.” Secretly, Albert worried his mother would not be diplomatic in her comments and could cause problems.

***

Entering the small town, Lydia pointed. “Look, there must be at least twenty cars!”

“Oh, man,” Herman moaned, “people are standing in front of the bank building. I bet the line is over a block long down the street.” Albert parked the car, and the Kramer family joined the line. The cold blustery November wind scratched people’s worried faces. Neighbors folded their arms close and stomped their feet to keep warm, but each person was cold in more ways than physical. Lydia sensed fear in the eyes of relatives and friends.

Neighboring farmers who rushed to town after chores still wore muddy boots. The small-town pastor waited in line and comforted anxious widows who shook their heads back and forth in confusion. Elderly couples huddled close to each other and clutched their account books tight. Most glanced around with concern; no one could afford to lose any money.

An older neighbor, his hat pulled tight, called out, “Hey, Albert, the rumor is the bank is letting people withdraw about half of their money. But it doesn’t look good. I hope they have enough on hand.”

“Well, any money is good for right now. Thanks, Hank.” Albert turned his face toward his wife and brothers and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t feel good about this.” They shivered in the freezing wind for over an hour, then the Kramers entered the bank’s heavy doors and joined another line. At last, Albert greeted the teller. “Hey, Ted, can we draw out half of each of our accounts?” Herman shoved the withdrawal forms toward the ashen-faced young man and glared.

“I don’t think I can, Albert.” The twenty-two-year-old teller’s face drooped, pale and sweaty. “We’re running out of cash money,” he whispered. Herman leaned his long body forward and placed his arm on the counter. Growling, he frightened the young man with his deep voice.

“Better go and see about our accounts; I want all my money.” Albert sympathized with his brother’s concerns. The three toiled beside their father all their lives, they didn’t want to see their savings disappear.

Albert leaned against his brother, “Let’s be patient, we have to keep calm, Herman.”

The man’s hands shook behind the teller’s bars. “I can try to give you a few dollars.” He leaned close, “But we must have money on hand by the end of day, or we will be forced to close. Until when, I don’t know.” The bank teller’s eyes pleaded with the brothers.

“Ask the Bank manager if we can each have at least half of our accounts.” Albert’s voice rumbled in frustration, “If not, I guess we can negotiate.”

Sweat dripped from the teller’s brow, “I don’t know.” But as he stammered, he glimpsed into Herman’s stern eyes. “I don’t know, but I will ask.”

Herman leaned in closer, and Lydia felt the heat radiating from his body. Albert’s large hand reached out and squeezed his brother’s arm whispering, “I know, I know.” Herman, married a little more than three months, needed money for farming and the care of his new wife.

Five long minutes passed before the bank manager slunk to the window with a small grimace. Seeing his despondent face, the Kramers sensed he would decline their request. “Please, boys, understand. You are asking for a lot of money.” The manager was acquainted with the Kramer family from church. Using a pinched voice, he explained. “Your account is much larger than the other families. Your request will wipe us out of cash.”

Albert and his brothers glanced around the bank lobby at the worried faces of friends and neighbors and realized the amount of money they planned to withdraw would be a small fortune for some of the citizens. The eldest brother nodded. “Give each of us three thousand dollars; enough to keep our families farms going for a while.” Herman left out a soft moan, but Lydia discerned he’d accept his older brother’s decision.

The manager blew out a large sigh and shook Albert’s hand. He returned carrying the money in a discreet cloth bag. “Albert, Herman, and Emil, I will always remember your selfless decision. I know your mother is proud of the sons she raised.”

As they drove home, Lydia stared out the car window at the wintry weather, but it was the chill of the unknown that shook her body. She turned to her husband and brothers-in-law. “I was proud of you all today.”

“Well, if the bank becomes insolvent and closes, all the account holders including us will lose their savings.” Albert stared out the windshield and sighed. “But I didn’t want to be the reason that my neighbors wouldn’t have any.”

Herman, silent since they left the Bank, sat in the backseat, and stared out the back window. “Yeah, we risk the chance of losing the rest too.” He softened his rigid tone, “But we chose the right thing.”

“You know, you two never asked me.” Emil’s deep voice rumbled from the back seat. There was a long pause in the car.

Albert glanced at the youngest brother in the rearview mirror, “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“But,” Emil interrupted, “I studied the faces of the other people. They had more to lose than we did. I was proud of you,

***

The economic life of Americans changed in the blink of an eye; but the Kramers did not know how much it would continue to affect their lives. Radio reports told horror stories about the loss of substantial amounts of money and the ruin of lives through suicides. Another hidden danger skulked nearby.

Throughout the winter of 1930, neither meteorologists nor farmers noticed the weather trend descending upon Nebraska. During the next months, only three days fell below freezing. Winter weather commonly ranged from subfreezing temperatures up to the forties and fifties which is referred to as the January or February thaw. But normally, the temperatures plunged back down. Shrugging their shoulders, Nebraskans assumed it was simply a mild winter. But once farmers kept track, they noticed just two and half inches of snow had fallen the entire season and barely covered the winter wheat.

During the spring, summer, and winter of 1930, farm life continued; crops were planted and harvested. Educated, economic advisors predicted that the odd weather was over and reasoned the main fiscal crisis had passed. While the markets and weather acted unstable, Emil and Bertha Busch had waited to marry.

“Everyone, I want to ask a favor,” Emil spoke up at supper on a spring evening. He took a deep breath and blurted out, “I want to get married.”

“Congratulations!” Albert shouted. Anna stared at her youngest son but didn’t argue.

“But, you see,” Emil pushed his mashed potatoes into a pile, “since all the money and weather problems, I can’t find any land or a house to rent.” He kept his eyes lowered toward his plate. Lydia glanced from Albert to Anna and back to her husband before she suggested, “I won’t mind another helping hand in the house.”

“Well, I sure need to keep his help here with the farm. There’s too many acres for me to farm alone.”

“Helen, what do you think?” Lydia glanced at her sister-in-law. Helen shrugged but didn’t smile.

“We’ll be gone by the time you are old enough to get married, I promise.” Emil placed his hand on hers.

Helen gave him a smile, but her eyes remained sad. To the family members’ surprise, Anna nodded. The household had agreed. Tough times would not keep Emil and Bertha from their life together. There was little room to accommodate three families, but the Kramers were willing to ride out the crises together. They, like other Americans, believed it would not be long before circumstances would change.

In May 1931, Emil and Bertha married at the country church and joined the family at the Kramer farm. Lydia once again giggled as she listened to Emil and his new bride slip up the stairs to Emil’s room.

***

The nation’s depression deepened, and the American people were challenged daily. In the large cities, workers found no jobs and their families suffered. Fortunate to have their gardens and other food sources, farm families hoped to outlast the troubled time. Then nature stewed up another problem. During 1933, the Midwest and Great Plains experienced a severe drought. Platte County farmers hoped to make it through the dry time but never guessed that a small insect would affect their chances in one afternoon.

In late July 1933, the afternoon air hung humid, without any breeze. There wasn’t a cool room in the house, so Anna, Bertha, and Lydia sat on the south porch and snapped green beans. Helen wiped her sweaty brow, “I’m so thankful for our garden. We’d have trouble feeding our clan without it.”

Baby Walt, now two and a half, toddled on the wooden, porch floor and caught any tolerant kitten. A sudden chill raced up Lydia’s spine. Don’t be silly, she told herself. Life is good.

Helen suddenly positioned her arm above her eyes to block out the sun. She scanned the skies east, south, and then west. “What’s that?” Her eye caught the sight of a hovering black cloud in the sky. As Helen watched, the moving mass morphed and plunged to the ground. “What?” She shouted out and pointed, “Did those clouds fall on the ground?”

Listless, Lydia scanned the horizon. “It’s just storm clouds forming in the west.” Six months pregnant, Lydia yearned for a nap and wasn’t paying attention.

“No, listen!” Helen focused on the western sky. “There is a buzzing noise in the air!” Her voice was raised with a hint of panic. She set down the enamel pan of beans and kept her eyes to the heavens as she moved toward the road. Just a mile across the section of farm ground from the house, a cornfield suddenly turned black as if covered in oil. “See? What’s in that cloud?”

Sprinting from the pasture, Emil rode his horse at a fast pace and yelled. “Get in the house! Shut the windows! Grasshoppers coming!” Bertha screamed and ran for the door. Helen and Lydia froze dumbstruck as the black mass again morphed and shifted into a formation which hovered over the ground.

“Walt, baby. Come here, now!” Lydia picked up Walt, dashed into the house, and plopped him in Anna’s lap as she while Helen darted around the house and closed the windows. Helen bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time, and slammed windows closed while Bertha rushed to the kitchen and pulled out the cleaning rags. Using all her strength, the new bride pumped water into a basin and soaked the cloths.

“Here, Lydia, stuff rags into the cracks around doors.”

Lydia watched out the window and cringed as the swarming grasshoppers moved together over the fields like a black wave. When Albert and Emil bolted into the kitchen door, they swatted off any clinging grasshoppers. Helen and Lydia scurried over and stomped on the pests. “They work together like spilled oil,” Albert panted. “I’ve never seen such a thing!”

Emil caught his mother’s arm, “Radio broadcasters say the locusts search for food everywhere. Not just crops like corn and wheat, but anything they land on.”

Anna placed her hand over her mouth and stifled a scream as her frightened eyes scanned the inside of her house. Fabric, leather, varnished furniture, and wood trim were all in danger. Emil hugged his mother, “We can’t let our guard down.”

The light of the sun retreated as the dark clouds approached, and the sky dimmed. Lydia hugged her husband’s arm, “Albert, what caused this?”

Everyone’s eyes centered on the now patriarch of the clan. “A speaker at the Grange reported these pests appear when the weather’s real dry.” He poured a glass of water down his throat and grabbed Emil’s arm. “Run out to the barn and bring any tarps you find out to the garden.” Albert turned to his pregnant wife and glanced at her growing belly. “Lydia, don’t run, but pull sheets and blankets off the beds.” He turned to his sister. “Helen, you and Bertha bring them out to the garden. We have to cover as many plants as we can.”

“Will that stop them?” Lydia’s heart pounded when she recognized that her family could lose their garden. Those vegetables kept their family fed during the summer and winter.

“They’ll eat the fabric and move on. We have to try.” Helen brought her brother two blankets from Anna’s room and then raced up the stairs for more.

Lydia’s studied her husband with concern, “God be with you.”

Albert winked at her, “Amen.” He burst out the kitchen door and rushed to the garden. The black, crawling ink first moved over the corn and alfalfa fields which gave the brothers time to cover the garden. The smell of sweat attracted the pests, and hordes of grasshoppers swarmed over Albert and Emil’s backs. The insects clung to their sticky tentacles and burrowed into Bertha and Helen’s hair. The four warriors thrashed their arms around and threw the creatures off before the insects could eat their clothes.

Baby Walt, Lydia, and Anna gaped out the window. “Mama, Mama, what’s there?” The toddler pointed out the window. “Is hugs eating Papa?”

“Don’t cry, Walt. Mama and Papa will keep you safe,” Lydia hugged her young son and tried to control her trembling hands.

Anna was speechless. Her son had never spoken so harshly. She jutted out her chin and lengthened her back. “God made cows and butterflies, but they don’t harm us.”

“Albert, quiet, you’re scaring your son.” Anna pleaded.

Albert raised his head and glared at his brother and sister. “We won’t have anything left! Do you have any ideas?” The family was exhausted. Lydia carried Walt on her hip and led Albert up the stairs.

Helen laid her head down on the kitchen table and shed tears, soft and low, while her shoulders shuddered with each breath. Already twenty-years-old, she and William Jeppsen had courted for over two years. Now any hopes for a harvested crop and money for a home together were gone. Dreams and ambitions shattered by a demon no one imagined coming.

Emil and Berta sat in the living room and held hands in silence. Both were shaken by Albert’s outburst. Their future hopes for their own home had also been gobbled up by these pests.

***

The next morning’s sunshine revealed the destruction. Lydia toted Walt on her hip while her husband and she strolled out into an altered world. Gnawed cornstalk pieces lay on the ground, shredded, and gnawed. Naked alfalfa fields, no longer green but grey, were eaten down to the soil. The wheat and oats fields gave no indication that a crop ever existed. Few plants remained standing but drooped with a few ragged leaves. In silence and shock, Albert and Lydia gawked as they surveyed the damage to their farm. When the couple walked to the garden, they discovered a rake and shovel with the wooden handles gnawed off. All that remained was the rusty metal. This sort of thing doesn’t happen, does it? Lydia struggled to believe.

“Look, Lydia,” Albert whispered, “it’s all stripped of any paint.” Her husband pointed at the house. The windowsills and door frames hung like ragged fingernails, gnawed, and marred. Emil met with them as they moved on to the barn.

Milk cows bunched together confused by closed the barn door. They bawled because of hunger and the need to be milked. Hearing human voices, the two horses trotted toward the chewed fence boards. They shook their manes and thrusted out any unwanted grasshoppers. The cats circled and rubbed against Albert’s leg and cried for their milk. The chickens clucked as they scurried and ate any remaining crawling creatures. “This is awful. I can’t believe what bugs can do.” Lydia’s voice was low. “What will happen?”

“Tools can be replaced.” Emil shrugged. “Fences will be rebuilt.” His attempt at reassurance sounded offensive like a senseless platitude.

“Yeah, but a year’s worth of promised harvest was eaten away.” His brother slammed his fist down on a gnawed fence board, “Those fields represented the grain for our animals — now and in the coming winter!” Albert twisted around and faced his brother with a snarl. “Those crops no longer exist!”

Feelings Laid Bare

Lydia’ steps crunched over the brown, dead grass as she fought tears burning in her eyes. Butterflies no longer danced together around purple alfalfa blossoms. Yellow clover flowers lacked bees to carry pollen on their legs. The massive cottonwood leaves grew shabby, grey, and lifeless, while its gnarled trunk leaned with exhaustion. The tree branches reached their skeleton fingers toward the white, bleached sky and pleaded for rain. Her head hung down as Lydia dragged her feet back to the house. Defeated as the dry earth itself, her mind spun around and around. How can I feed our children if parched ground lays in our fields? Where are we going to get hay for our animals?

Since no crops remained, farmers fed their livestock weeds from the ditches. “I can’t believe I have to feed my cows Russian thistles!” Albert kicked a dried clod of soil.

“It’s fiber to chew on, right?” his younger brother tried to see a bit of value.

“Yeah, right! There’s little nutritional value. You remember the last time we fed these weeds to our cows, don’t you?”

Emil grinned and drew circles in the dust with the tips of his shoes, “Yeah, they all got diarrhea and made a mess around the yard and in the barn. “Albert clenched his fist in frustration but then roared at his little brother, “One, slick, stinking mess alright!”

The animals balked at eating the weeds, but it was all the livestock had to chew. Every morning and each sunset, the milk cows bawled for hay and then produced little milk. Anna reached for the two milk cans, “We’ll have to start rationing milk too.”

Anxiety filled Lydia during the day and in the night. Often, she woke during the nights as whirlwinds of desperate worries spun in her brain and caused havoc in her heart. Quietly, she’d step outside onto the once-painted porch and paced like a caged animal. “I’ve got to figure out a plan. I must feed these kids,” she whispered to the hot, night sky. “Lord, you know those grasshoppers pilfered last year’s garden. Now this drought has destroyed this year’s summer garden.” She knelt in the moonlight and pleaded to the stars above, “Help me think of ideas. My kids can’t die.”

***

In his hot, dusty bed each night, young Walt tossed in his sleep. In the sweltering heat, Lydia nursed the newest baby girl, Dorothy, born the past October before. When she embraced the baby, their skin sparkled with perspiration.

“Albert, maybe we shouldn’t have marital relations any longer.” Her husband whirled around, narrowed his eyes, and studied her face. “Well, it’s just that I feel guilty bringing more children into this world right now.” Lydia laid the new baby down. “Maybe we are putting them at risk.”

“Times have been bad before.” Albert’s voice was terse. “People move on. It’s not possible to stop living or loving, Lydia.”

She hung her head and salty tears dropped onto her hands, “I know, but it doesn’t seem fair that they should live in such conditions. My parents provided such a nice home for me.” Tears swam in her eyes when she stepped near the bedroom window. She turned her eyes to heavenward. Please, she prayed, we need rain.

“Are you saying I’m not providing for my children?” Her husband’s eyes protruded, and the vein around his grimy neck throbbed with anger.

“No, no, Albert,” Lydia raised her hands, “you do the best you can. It’s this weather. It’s this dirty world.”

With slow, deliberate words, Albert controlled his anger. “I’ll not forfeit the one thing in this world which makes me feel like a man.” He glowered at Lydia as she had asked for a divorce. “You and I will continue to love each other.” Albert stomped out of the room.

***

A week later, Lydia tapped her pencil on the kitchen table and attempted to create a plan for feeding her family. It was becoming increasingly difficult. Each hot, demanding day stressed the Kramer women. Each personality was quite different. Anna sat in her rocking chair sullen and judgmental. Helen and Lydia, both outgoing, worked as a team and found little reasons to smile. Bertha, shy and quiet, hung back and won’t share even though her resentment grew. One morning, deep in concentration, Lydia called out, “Hey, Bertha, can you go dust the furniture this morning?”

“Yes, I guess.” Shy and timid, Bertha never caused any disagreements. But this day her face flushed and broadcasted her grievance toward Helen and Lydia. Lydia’s jaw fell slack and her eyes widened, “Bertha, do you feel alright?”

“Sure, why not?” Bertha crossed her arms. “Simply doing my job as ordered,” her voice sharp and bitter. When Bertha stomped out of the room, Lydia and Helen exchanged a questioning look.

Later as the women sat around the kitchen table and planned what they could to feed the household, Lydia again spoke without thinking. “Helen, will you and Bertha take an inventory of the canned vegetables, dried beans, and preserved meat in the cellar? We can’t run out of food.” Helen started to stand, but Bertha sat silent, crossed her arms, and glared at Lydia. Concentrating, Lydia tapped her pencil on the wooden table and didn’t notice Bertha’s refusal.

“Why do you get to be the one who orders everyone around?” Bertha drummed her fingers on the table and fidgeted with the weave of the tablecloth.

“What?” Lydia’s mouth dropped open at the sound of Bertha’s angry words. This was not Bertha’s usual manner. “I don’t know,” she stammered surprised, “I don’t think I’m the boss.”

“Well, every day you tell me to do this, do that.” Bertha cocked her head to the side as her voice raised, “You order me around like a servant.”

“Now, wait, Bertha,” Helen joined in, “she doesn’t treat you like a maid.”

The newest member of the family jumped from her chair and raised her voice louder. “Yes, she does. But of course, you’ll support her. You two are thick as thieves. ” Lydia and Helen eyes widened with surprise.

Bertha pointed her finger at Lydia, “She treats me like she does her little kids. And I won’t take it anymore!”

The air in the room became just as hot and sultry as the weather outdoors. Waves of strained emotions rippled between the three, young women. But they lived in the same house — they needed to figure this out.

Lydia gawked at Helen and back at Bertha in disbelief. “Bertha, I agree there’s a lot of stress living in the same home with three other women, day after day.” Lydia moved to the chair next to her sister-in-law. “Frustration with the hard times and the lack of joy has wormed its way into our minds and hearts.”

Bertha quickly moved out of her chair to avoid being near Lydia. She paced back and forth like a caged dog, “I feel like a little girl living in another family’s home. I have no rights.” She waved her hand in the air. “I have no position.” She stood rigid and frowned at her sisters-in-law with a flushed face. When Bertha gazed at Lydia and Helen’s confused faces, she dissolved into a puddle of tears and crumpled in a chair. “I have no privacy.” Bertha whimpered as she placed her head in her hands. “Who made you the boss?” she whined, “Isn’t this Anna’s home?”

Quietly, Lydia again tried to move close to the young woman’s side. She hoped to wrap her arms around her sister-in-law and pat her back. “It’s okay, tell us how you feel.”

“I want my own house!” Bertha blubbered. “I want my own children.” Her shoulders shuddered as she continued sobbing.

Without warning, Helen raised her voice. “Well, me too, Bertha! But I can’t have any happiness!” Helen’s frustration boiled over. Lydia and Bertha blinked their eyes with disbelief at their sister-in-law’s rare anger. Helen placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward, “You at least have a husband to hold you during the night. I have nothing!”

The three, young women had never spoken like this before. With faces flushed with exposed anger, they sat next to each other not knowing what to do. The rush of secret emotions frightened them. Silently, the once queen of the kitchen, Anna, stepped into the room.

Her new mellow voice startled the young women. “Within a loving family, jealousy can consume any kindness. Then anger chews any affections into hatred. You are not any different than other women who must share one home.” The family matron paused and studied the faces of the young women in her family. Silence filled the room while she crossed the floor, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “These are awful times for we women. Our emotions are sincere and heart-felt. This stress of the weather and its uncertainty is oppressive.”

The shoulders of the sisters softened and slumped forward. Their eyes were trained on their mother-in-law. “We caregivers feel powerless. We cannot love nor care for our families as we had dreamed.” The young women nodded and let their tears fall. “But we’re not hopeless.” The corner of her mouth lifted and rewarded them a with rare smile, “You three are very smart. You will think of a plan, but you must work as a team. I will be the first to join your cause.”

The steaming teapot of female frustration, fear, and disappointment had boiled over and released the tension of hot emotions. Lydia, Helen, and Bertha glanced at each other — first in anger and then with regret. “You’re right, Anna. Let’s all sit and calm down. Please join us.” Lydia reached her hand to Helen.

When all four sat around the table, Lydia continued. “Bertha, I can understand how you feel. Moving into Anna’s home was difficult for me too. I was young and inexperienced,” she winked at her mother-in-law and chuckled. “I didn’t know how to fit in.” Lydia turned to her sister-in-law, “Helen helped me so much. I leaned on her love and companionship.”

Helen bowed her head while her lower lip twitched. Speaking in a soft voice, she shared. “I must admit there are times when I am jealous of you, Lydia. You and Albert look at each other with such love. I yearn for my own home and the shared love of a husband.” Sorrow combined with disappointment filled her eyes. “I’m also jealous of you too, Bertha. I want to be loved as a wife like you are.”

“Jealousy is a strange and ugly emotion,” Anna whispered. She reached her hand to her daughter, “I have neglected your feelings, Helen. I apologize.” Helen’s breath caught in her throat, and she didn’t know how to react to her mother’s sudden apology. “I won’t tell the details, but jealousy caused me to distrust my husband — the one person who truly loved me.”

Lydia reached over and patted Anna’s hand. Helen studied her mother, surprised by her words.

“I love my sons. I want the best for them. But I was jealous when Lydia came. I fought those feelings again when you came, Bertha.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you all experienced the same as me. I was being selfish,” Bertha confessed. “I considered my feelings but not anyone else’s.”

“This situation is awful for all of us,” Lydia continued. “Hopes and dreams have been put on hold. I think we all tried to hide our feelings and not cause problems. But maybe we should let the steam out every so often.” The women around the table chuckled.

Anna added, “But I know one thing, we all love this family.” The other three nodded.

“The stress is burdening us all,” Lydia gave a slim smile, “but we can come together.” She glanced around the table while her friends returned her smile.

“I apologize for my outburst. I was exhausted and sad.” Bertha put her hand on Helen’s arm, “I don’t want to be mean and jealous.”

“Well, you’ve got to admit, it helped us clear the air!” Helen snorted. “We must see the love in front of our eyes and support each other,”

Lydia crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. “But we can’t keep our feelings inside. It grows, like yeast, into jealousy, resentment, and anger.”

Anna gazed at Lydia, “Daughter, you are very right.” Lydia had hoped for so long to hear Anna say those loving words. “You have impressed me with your strength. Your hands aren’t as soft as once before, Lydia. But they are strong like your heart.” Anna placed her hand across Lydia’s, “You have guided our family through tough times.”

“And,” Helen added, “I see you leading us to the end of these struggles.”

“With your help!” Lydia wiped her eyes, “Let’s put our heads together and make a plan to feed this brood.”

“First, we need to share a prayer.” Anna covered Lydia’s hand, and Lydia covered Bertha’s hand, who placed her hand on Helen’s. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but Helen’s smile was soft and sincere as she covered her mother’s hand. “Now, let each of us consider an attribute we need to strengthen with the Lord’s help. I will ask for forgiveness and patience.”

“I will ask for strength and endurance,” Lydia whispered.

Bertha’s shoulders shuddered with one last sob. “I ask for contentment and peace.”

Helen paused, “I have so many bad habits that I ask the Lord to fix them all.” The women let out a hardy laugh, releasing any last tensions.

Anna squeezed Helen’s hand and whispered, “I disagree.”

“Oh well, let’s see,” Hannah blinked away her tears. “Lord, I ask that you send me hope and resilience.”

With a loud Amen, Lydia picked up her pencil, and the planning. began.

***

Bertha and Helen found a few jars of jam and jellies on the shelves in the cellar. They also counted six jars of green beans and five cans of tomato sauce which remained from the previous year. In addition, they reported two crocks which contained dried peas and beans. “What are we going to do, Lydia?” They huddled around the kitchen table.

“We’re going to conserve our food. Anna, you’ll need to get out your old recipes. Let’s search for ways to make more soups and stews to maximize what food we have.”

When Emil pushed through the kitchen door, he slammed it as fast as he could. Still in unison, the women yelled, “Brush yourself off!”

Innocently, he glanced over their shoulders, “Finding new recipes?” He would not have guessed nor understood the passion that had filled the room earlier.

“No, but yes.” Defeated, Lydia rested her elbow on the table and laid her weary head in her hand. “We must stretch what food we have left. Any ideas?”

“We butchered last fall, but I doubt we can this year with all the dust flying around.” Emil articulated a sad truth.

Lydia shook her head, “Let’s talk to Albert. He may have ideas. We still need meat. We could butcher one small hog at a time.”

“Hey, I could do more hunting. Without crop work, I have time. What can you use?”

“Except for cats and dogs — shoot it, and we’ll figure it out.” His sister-in-law spoke in plain and blunt terms. The cooks promised to use whatever meat could be found, no matter how unpleasant it sounded to butcher a bunny or a squirrel.

“My mother made a tasty rabbit stew. I’ll look for the recipe,” Anna added to their planning.

Every day, Emil did his part in keeping the family alive. He roamed the fields hunting for rabbits in addition to the few pheasants and quail left. The prey carried little meat but when added to a stew or soup, it provided protein.

***

Twenty days of temperatures of over one-hundred degrees drained humans and animals. Growing hotter each day, the house became a pressure-cooker. Fine, griminess floated in the air and blanketed the furniture in each room.

Anna shuffled around the rooms with little energy. Helen and Bertha dragged their feet over the gritty floor. Lydia and her children tried to stay cool by reading books in the cellar. No longer did a refreshing morning breeze enter the residence.

Instead, the house resembled a mausoleum. Instead of dead bodies lying in repose, the hovering odor resulted from the stench of dying dreams.

Continued Plagues and Courageous Hearts

The unremitting Nebraska wind blew the bare, lifeless soil against fences and resembled snow drifts which would not melt. Any plowed ground turned to dust. Crops that dared to grow were punished and burned. On a sweltering day in March 1933, Albert shuffled into the house, brushed his arm across his brow, and wiped the dripping moisture from his face. Emil followed, his shirt wet with sweat, “Man, it’s too hot to breathe out there.”

Albert plopped down on a kitchen chair and a puff of dust added to the floor’s grime. “What’s going on? It’s early spring — ought to be only forty-five degrees.”

Lydia rushed to the sink and pumped a glass of water. She squinted out the window at the thermometer. “Eighty-six degrees or so, good grief.”

“I got my weather headache today,” Anna tried to sound hopeful. “Maybe it’s going to rain.”

“I don’t know what’s happened to the weather again this year.” Albert leaned back on his kitchen chair and shook his head. “Everything needs rain real bad. The animals are thirsty. The soil is too dry. I’m worried dust storms will come.”

Emil set his glass on the table, “I’m going out to milk the cows. Bertha, you and Helen had better lock the chickens up in the coop. The sky is a funny color, greenish. Who knows what kind of weather that’ll bring?”

“Be careful, Emil,” Bertha’s voice cracked.

Lydia wrapped her in a firm hug. “Bertha, when the Kramer brothers work together, they’re successful.” Lydia

squeezed her tight again, “We’re one big tribe, and we’re glad you are a member.”

A half hour later, Albert busted into the house yelling, “Shut up the windows and doors! Dust storm’s coming!” He leaned forward into the wind as he darted back out to the Varn to help Emil.

Lydia gaped dumbfounded. “What? No, no more, God. We can’t take any more.”

Anna rushed and closed the open windows in the parlor when she spotted the black dust clouds forming a wall on the southwest horizon. The undulating, lifeless c louds rose, billowed, and came together to create a huge cloud. Within seconds, the sky turned as dark as night. Anna screamed, “Everybody grab rags and towels. Soak them and push them along the windowsills.” Once again, the Kramer women wet any type of cloth rag they could find and raced through the rooms where they stuffed them under doors and pushed them into windowsills.

“Where are the babies? Are they still sleeping?” Frantic for their safety, Lydia sprinted to her bedroom and woke Walt and Dorothy. She scooped up the new baby, James, born a month before and cradled him tight. Forcing her children down the stairs, she led them to the parlor. Both children cried and clung to Lydia. She tried to soothe them while she rocked the newest baby. She leaned her face close and kissed them. Anna wrapped her arms around her grandchildren, and they huddled together.

When the temperature dropped close to freezing, the Kramer family became alarmed. Midwesterners knew that when chilly air and hot air clash, the conditions can create a tornado. Hearing the increased wind, Lydia feared a twister was hidden by the sculking dust villain. However, she tried her best to hide her fear from her babies.

The porch swing bucked and twisted in the wind. Swinging back and forth, it hit the side of the house over and over with ominous thuds. Each time it boomed into the house, the children jumped and cried out. “I can’t stand that noise! I’m going out and take that s wing down before it shatters. “Helen clenched her fists and rushed to the door.”

“I’ll help, the noise is driving me crazy too.” Bertha followed her sister-in-law into the raging wind. As the wind whipped and wrapped the dresses around their legs, Helen climbed on the bench and reached for the hooks while Bertha steadied her torso.

“Thank you, that was very brave.” Lydia chuckled as the two came in with their hair blown in every direction. Walt and Dorothy pointed and giggled. The single-paned windows creaked and groaned against the pressure of the wind. Dry branches broke from the trees and were hurled at the house. The war zone continued the battle for hours.

The dust monstrosity had swept up from Kansas, through the dry wheat fields of western Nebraska, and traveled northeast into central Nebraska. Huddled by the radio, the frightened household leaned in and listened for any information. Because of Lydia’s concern about a tornado, Albert crept out on the back porch every thirty minutes and checked the weather. Just past midnight, he strolled in and shook his head. “You’re not going to believe this, but there’s snow mixed with dirt!”

***

The morning sunlight revealed that the interior of the Kramer house now rested under a layer of dust. Grit covered the furniture, clinging to curtains, embedded in the sheets. On April 14, 1933 — later known as Black Sunday a major dust storm had started in the southern part of the United States and ravaged over six states including Nebraska. Intense winds raged up to sixty-five miles per hour and carried the monstrous cloud of topsoil over a path more than two hundred miles wide. In time, weathercasters confirmed the worst months for blowing topsoil included February, March, and April. The radio labeled these dates the blow months.

“I don’t care what those weathermen call it.” Lydia slammed her hand on the kitchen table. “I say every month has been difficult, no matter the speed of the wind.”

“It seems as if the entire world is dissolving into dust.” Anna turned to her son, “Is this end of the world?”

***

Dirt, dirt, dirt everywhere. Lydia’s hands ached from pushing the windmill pump up and down, but she thanked God for the clear water that surfaced from within the earth each day. When Helen and Berta brought in the buckets of daily drinking water, they carried one extra bucket for washing the children. All day long, Lydia cleaned her children’s faces and hands. She wiped their faces before they ate and after they ate. She used a washcloth when the children woke up in the morning and before they fell asleep. Eventually, her children cried when they eyed her coming, “Mummy, no, no. No more wiping.”

Tiny dust particles laid on the new baby’s sweet face and in what little hair grew on his head, but he continued his gaze into his mother’s face and trusted in her love and protection. As hot tears crawled down her gritty cheeks, Lydia believed she had nothing to more to give to her children. Lydia lay awake night after night. Tears made her pillow wet as she wondered how to fight this filthy curse of nature.

How am I going to keep my children clean! The worried mother hoped that if she could keep her children’s skin clean, the dust ailments would stay away. She read newspaper articles about children who contracted pneumonia from mold in their lungs, Lydia couldn’t bear the chance of losing another child. Priceless water and vigilance became her weapons and shields of hope.

Lydia listened to the radio while she nursed the baby and called to her mother and sisters-in-law. “Listen, there are people in the western states who paste newspapers over their walls. It keeps the soil out.”

“It’s worth a try.” Anna turned to Helen. “Do we have enough flour to make a paste?”

***

No matter what the women did, nature taunted them with wind and dust. In time, people in the Dust Bowl areas of Oklahoma, Kansas, and Nebraska — including the Kramer women — had covered their windows with wet sheets and blankets to block any sifting dust. “These blankets make the house so dark,” Bertha pouted her lips. “I feel like I’m in a tomb of dust.”

Rural folks around the county now comprehended that this new way of life required them to rebuild their lives. Farm life would never be the same. Farmers yearned for the return to the good ole’ farm life; but agriculture depends on the weather. The obvious fact remained; rainfall wasn’t coming to Nebraska.

One bright morning at the end of May, Lydia sat up in bed and gasped, “Oh my gosh, the wind isn’t blowing!” She called out to Helen, “Grab the sheets! There isn’t any wind.” Lydia frantically clawed the dingy sheets from her young children’s beds and clamored to the kitchen sink. Her fingers pushed the clothes into the wash basin with panicked urgency. Plunging and gripping the material, she extracted as much brown dust as she could. Just as she was done, Helen dashed into the kitchen with another armful of linens. Bundling the dripping laundry in her arms, Lydia gritted her teeth and dashed out to the drooping clothesline. Hurry, she told herself, before the angry wind and damned dust returned.

Once she and Helen had draped the bedclothes onto the clothesline, they stepped back and caught their breath. An eerie awareness erased Lydia’s feeling of success. “Where is it? What’s missing?”

“What? What are you looking for?”

Lydia lifted her nose and sniffed the air. Her eyes scanned the grey, Nebraska horizon. Whirling around, her eyes searched for the aroma. But none came to her senses. The odor of blossoming lilacs should have wafted on the morning air and announced that spring had once again returned.

“Lydia, what’s the matter?” Helen stared at her sister-in-law confused.

Cautiously as if approaching a casket, Lydia crept near the three lilac bushes at the corner of the house. Her fingertips trembled as she stretched them toward the shriveled bushes now dry and leafless. Her touch lingered while she searched for tender lilac blossoms. “None! They’re not here!” Lydia’s face crumpled. No sweet, wafting fragrance greeted her this spring. Brittle and lifeless, the lilac bushes mirrored the filthy life around her.

Squatting down on the crusty grass, the young woman wrapped her quivering arms around her knees. She buried her head in her lap and grieved out loud. “This isn’t fair! Every little pleasure has been taken from our lives!”

Helen knelt near her best friend and wrapped her arms around Lydia’s shoulders. “Go ahead and cry. We’ve all been cheated.”

Bone-weary and empty of joy, the young women knelt in the graveyard of dust and death. Malevolent grasshoppers and constant grime had devoured and ripped nature’s beauty from their family’s lives. Simple delights of butterflies and spring blossoms were now murdered by the drought and laid decaying all around them. Lydia raised her face to the heavens now dimmed from hovering dust and shook her tight fist. Cursing rules and traditions which she once trusted, her anger screeched through the air.

“This weather has robbed my children of their futures!” Lydia stood and raised her face to the impotent sun while she pleaded to the creator above. “What memories will my children have?” Her voice screamed into the wind, “What can a mother do?”

Dirt, dust, topsoil, earth, disorder, bugs, pestilence, and illness dropped into their lives from. the heavens above and seized the aspirations and futures of the people Lydia loved. The damned pests devoured the beauty of color and loveliness from the world.

***

Albert and Emil drove into town twice a week and stopped in the grain store. They hoped to hear any news about the weather. At the noon meal, Albert moved his fork around on his plate but didn’t eat. Slowly he raised his face and shared his concerns, “I’m hearing there is a bad drought in Oklahoma.” His eyes met Lydia’s. “I’m getting worried whether farmers here can hold out much longer if Nebraska doesn’t get rain.”

Helen set her fork on her plate. “On the radio, they reported the blowing dust storms are getting really bad. Dust storms have already hit the lower Great Plains.”

Lydia recognized the worry on the faces of her husband and his brother. Their three children relied on these hard-working men for everything. Walt now six, daughter Dorothy four, and baby James now five months required their parents’ protection. “Will we be alright, son?” Anna raised her eyebrows and frowned. She reached across the table and touched her son’s arm, “Are you worried about making a living?”

Never once had Lydia considered the possibility of losing the family farm. Her young husband passed his dirt-stained hand through his hair as he had done since a young man. But now his hair had turned grey at the temples. Only thirty-one years old, Lydia considered him much too young for grey hair. “Well, Mother,” he spoke low, “we’ve had ten inches of less rain than last year. It snowed too little to cover the winter wheat.” He waited while his words soaked into everyone’s brain. “Jim Johnson from the Grange in Columbia told me this fall’s corn crop dropped seventy-five percent statewide from last year.” He paused while his fingers played with the crumbs on the table. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

Anna Kramer lowered her head down onto her folded arms. Now over fifty years old, she had mellowed. Her grandchildren kept her entertained and content. But her face hung thin with deep wrinkles in her cheeks. The challenging times had affected everyone. Across the table, Lydia studied her hardworking husband. She trusted him with her very life as well as those of their three children. She sat quietly and fed her baby son. How can we care for them! She had no words of advice — no ways to comfort anyone.

***

Later in their bedroom Albert slouched his shoulders and placed his head in his hands. As the eldest, he was burdened with caring for the nine members of the Kramer family. In a low whisper, he shared sad news with Lydia. “The Johnson family is selling out.”

“Oh, no, how sad.” Lydia gripped the iron bedframe and felt dizzy with anxiety.

“The farm belonged to the Johnson kinsfolk since the time our grandparents arrived from Germany. Herman overheard others are considering whether or not to leave behind the decades of challenging work.” He sucked in air and raised his face to his wife. “What if I lose everything that my father and grandparents labored for? What if I don’t do enough?” The pain and fear in this voice chilled Lydia.

“You won’t. We won’t.” Lydia dropped to the floor near his knees and clutched his calloused hands. “Albert don’t think it. We can’t think that way. We have to keep the faith.”

“What faith? I don’t know if I have any faith or hope anymore.” His eyes drooped while he studied the gritty floor.

“We need to pray more, Albert. Don’t you pray?”

Albert gritted his teeth and drew his shoulders back in a defensive stance. He glared into his wife’s eyes. “Yeah, I pray. I pray in the barn while I feed my cattle thistles. Weeds for God’s sake! I pray as the parched dirt falls through my fingers.” Lydia’s eyes followed as he paced to the windows and continued. “I pray while I walk over the hard, brown alfalfa field searching for any green sprig or blade of grass coming to life.”

“We’re fine,” she hugged him, but her husband pushed her away at arm’s length.

“But it could have been so much more, Lydia. I promised you a good life. Everything we treasure has been eaten away by hugs and dust storms.”

Lydia forced herself alongside his body, “Albert, these months have been hard … “

“Years! Years have been hard!”

“Yes, but we lived a great life Like before, and we will enjoy a wonderful life later.”

“I wish I had your faith.” Albert covered his face with his hands.

“What else do I have, Albert? Some days, I want to sleep forever. I want to dream that this isn’t happening. But then I ask myself, who would take care of those beautiful faces?”

The parents turned and watched their children sleeping. Lydia whispered as she squeezed her husband’s hand. “Who would hold them and love them like we can? I trust you and God.”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “What would I do without you?”

“Albert, I have loved you ever since you pulled my pigtails. I am not letting you escape any time soon.” The loving couple gazed into each other’s eyes for a minute and then giggled. Cherishing each other, they hugged and kissed.

***

Nature's Continued Wrath

While the women worked in the garden, Helen, Bertha, Anna, and Lydia always kept their eyes westward. Nebraskans needed to be ready if a balmy bronze Nebraska sunset grimaced and became overcome by ever-blackening turmoil. With incredible speed, clouds could mutate into a dreaded tornado.

One morning in late August started out cloudless with warm sunshine and a soft breeze. By four in the afternoon, humid clouds blew from the far west. The hot breezes of summer had become gusts of hot wind. “My dress is clinging to the sweaty on my body.” Bertha moaned as she wiped her face with her apron. “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel clean again.”

The relentless wind spun the blades on the windmill and cranked the shaft. The increased energy caused the pump to spew up cool water. “Think about those poor mothers in Oklahoma who struggle each day caring for their children without food and water.” As Lydia spoke, she scrutinized the clouds above.

“Yeah, you should count your blessings.” Helen playfully scolded her sister-in-law, Bertha, who then stuck her tongue. “But I agree.” Helen leaned on her rake. “Today’s air is so heavy. It’s even hard to breathe.”

Lydia’s hand shielded her eyes and scanned the sky. She glanced over her shoulder and watched her children play close by. “You kids stick around the house; the weather’s not right.” The rushing pumped water spilled out from the water tank. Walt and Dorothy made mud pies in the puddles and splashed each other.

“Why, Mama? The water feels good.” Dorothy pouted. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Remember I told you we must watch the skies in the summertime for storm-making clouds? See there?” She pointed to the west. “If those clouds turn black, we need to run to the storm cave.”

“Do you think we’ll get rain for a chance?” Anna strolled out of the house and picked up a basket of tomatoes. “It’s so humid, it feels like rain.”

“That would be a miracle.” Helen joked.

“Look, Mama! You mean like that?” Walt pointed up at the western sky which had faded into an eerie, greenish color. Above the horizon, dark, rolling clouds churned and bubbled.

“I don’t like those clouds.” Anna peered into the sky. Just as she spoke, a wall cloud formed in the darkening airspace. “Run!”

With frantic speed, the women scrambled past the water tank, swept the children up in their arms, and headed to the storm cellar next to the house. The rolling heavens moved up and down, around and around, dipped and then moved up again. Just as the women reached the shelter, the brothers raced home from the field. They chased the horses and milk cows into the barn for protection from hail stones.

The women had opened the cellar doors when nature suddenly gasped. The wind stopped, and the black sky hung still and quiet. Birds stopped singing. Toads ceased their croaking voices. Nature instinctively hid from the coming storm. When the funnel extended earthward, closer and closer to the ground, it sucked up the soil’s blackness. Albert yelled out the command. “Down into the cave!”

Emil guarded at the top of the steps. “Watch your step, it’s steep. Go slow, don’t rush or you’ll slip.” Anna lit the stored kerosene lantern and placed it close to Lydia who huddled on the damp bench and rocked baby James. Helen comforted the two older children. But no one spoke. Hail stones pounded the wooden cellar door while the tornado pulled upward on the cellar with a sucking sound. Albert and Emil gripped the iron handles and kept the door from opening.

“Hang on, Daddy!” Walt called out and tried to escape Helen’s grip.

“No, you stay put!” His mother’s stern look caused Walt to stand back.

At last, the deafening noise and turbulent wind subsided. The survivors climbed out of the protection of the underground fortress. Their eyes searched into the eerie silence. Two twisted windmill blades dangled and scraped against each other creating a slight screaming sound. The barn’s siding wore gashes and stripped corners. Kittens and farm cats snuck out from under the barn and came running to the house for reassurance. The house’s screen doors swayed on torn hinges. Brittle trees trembled, ragged and shredded. The storm had torn leaves and attempted to rip off their limbs.

Arriving safe at the back door, Lydia crumpled in relief and pressed against her husband weeping. Albert wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her closely. “We’re all fine. Look at your children standing beside you! The Lord has protected us once more.”

The violent black train was now gone; the wild ride had ended. Prairie people over the ages had learned to anticipate the churning, reeling, and merging of furious clouds. They respected the force of nature which extended and swelled, spit and breathed danger. Generational farms and houses, built by grit and calloused hands — the citadels of memories — would need to endure yearly battles against the brewing threat.

***

Helen waited to marry, but her patience was running as low as the dusty creek in the pasture. Now twenty-three-years old, her joyful soul faded like the plants in the field. She no longer used her voice for singing. Her dimples slipped from her thin cheeks. On many dark nights, Lydia sat on Helen’s bed and hugged her tightly.

“I feel like I’ll never get married.” Helen wiped away her tears. “Will drives over if the roads aren’t filled with deep dirt. But it’s been two weeks since Will and I sat on the porch.” She covered her face. “What if he forgets me? What if he meets a woman closer to his home?” Her voice resembled a frightened child, and her face was puffy with sadness and tears. “You had a baby by this age.” Helen’s shoulders shuddered, “I want a family too.”

“Helen, why don’t you and Will come live with us? We can make room.”

Helen sniffled from another round of tears. “No. No, Lydia.” Helen wiped her eyes. “Yes, we could live in my room; but the house is so crowded already, and food is precious.” She paused with swollen eyes. “Will says he doesn’t want to get married until he and I can live in our own home.” Helen reached out her hands and shrugged. “No money, no future.”

“But we can still dream. No one can take hope away from us.” Lydia squeezed Helen’s hand. “I see it now. It’s the last day of May and the lilacs are blooming. You wear a headband with purple ribbon which matches the flowers.”

Helen giggled. “And, I have a soft, pink dress made of taffeta trimmed in purple ribbon just like in my bouquet.” Her eyes twinkled once again.

“There stands William, so nervous. His knees are trembling. He has waited so long for you. And don’t forget, Dorothy is your flower girl.” Lydia teased. “She looks so sweet with a small bunch of lilacs and her long, blonde hair.”

Helen turned to Lydia. “God put you in my life for this very reason. You calm me and help me continue.” A dimple graced one cheek. “We can dream; you are right.”

***

Later during supper, Lydia paused and surveyed the sad Kramer faces. “Let’s go out and sit on the porch. It will lift our spirits.” The members rose slowly with doubt and shuffled onto the gritty boards of the porch — bare of paint, chewed off by the grasshoppers. The floor creaked with dryness, and the faded rockers waited covered in a thick, crusty film of dust. Grit laid on everything the family touched.

The lawn stretched to the road brown and lifeless; twilight dew no longer freshened the grass. Seven years before, the summer cicadas sang out their shrill songs; now their voices remained silent. Once a velvety freeze whispered through the willow tree in the corner of the front yard. Now the branches sagged leafless from the drought and lack of moisture.

“I don’t see any fireflies. Where are they?” Helen’s voice whined like a disappointed child.

“The few birds left eat anything they can.” Albert spoke up. “Haven’t you noticed that there are no singing birds?”

“Speaking of birds,” Lydia lifted her chin and turned her head in both directions, “I haven’t heard the turtle doves. Did they leave too?” Their early morning and twilight songs had reminded Lydia of the love she cared for her husband.

Dorothy, four, toddled up with a corralled kitten. But the thin creature bore scabs around its eyes. Lydia instinctively jumped up and grabbed the cat from her daughter’s hands. “No, this kitty is sick!”

“No, Mania, no. It’s my kitty!” Dorothy stomped her feet and wailed.

“Dorothy, baby, let’s go wash your hands with auntie.” Helen picked up her niece and took her into the house to wash any disease off her hands.

“Thank you, Helen. Walt, follow your auntie and wash your hands too. Time for bed soon.”

Instead of lifting their spirits as Lydia had hoped, her attempt created a sad realization of the simple things that this viscous weather had confiscated. Baby James crawled across the floor and coated his clothes, hands, and tiny tongue in dirt. His father swooped up his little son with his large hands. “Hey, buddy, let’s get you clean, if it’s possible. Coming in Lydia?”

“No, I’ll stay for a few minutes.” Albert’s sad eyes scanned the darkened horizon and studied the suffering landscape. Exhaling a deep sigh, he turned and entered the hot house.

With a low groan, Anna rose from her rocker. “Maybe it will all come back, Lydia.” With her head slumped, she shuffled back into the stale air of their home.

Looking over the dry rolling hills, Lydia pondered questions that disturbed her mind. If I had known how difficult married life was, would I have married Albert? “Stop it!” She shouted in the darkness. “You cry like a coward.”

She lifted her tired body from the porch, stepped onto the lawn, and shuffled — slow and dreamlike — to an opening in the tree branches. There she studied the pale moon, full of misty beams that mocked her mood. “I am. warning you. I am going to fight you.” She whispered to the formidable darkness. “I will be my own destiny, and I’ll not allow you to control my life.” The tired wife and mother threw her head back and closed her eyes. With a deep breath, she inhaled the night air.

“One day, this will be gone. A new day will come, and a new twilight will return with fireflies, calling doves, and refreshing dew.”

She paused, opened her eyes, and pointed to the moon. I’m counting on you, God!

Fighting Back and Making Memories

The drought dragged on for another year. Lydia heard about friends and family at church and in town who now suffered from chest pains. The radio reported that difficulty breathing led to pneumonia, silicosis, tuberculosis, sinus, laryngitis, or bronchitis. She became frightened when she learned that children and the aged remained the most susceptible to the disease. Those who didn’t die tended to suffer from. a lifetime of health issues.

So far, Walt and Dorothy had just complained of just throats and itchy eyes. “Mama, my mouth is scratchy. Make it clean.” But as the newspapers reported that there were children in other states who woke up from a nap and coughed up mud. Anna struggled to find ways to help. “The radio reported people put Vaseline in their noses and captured any dust before it reached their lungs.”

“It’s worth a try, Anna. Thanks.”

Filled with constant worry about her children getting pneumonia, Lydia saved every burlap seed or flour sack she found. At night, she dampened them and hung the burlap over the headboards of the children’s beds and the crib. She hoped the dust would land on the wet sacks and not on the children’s faces and sheets. During the daytime, Lydia tied handkerchiefs over the kids’ faces while they played outdoors. She convinced them they resembled strong bandits like in the western radio programs.

Sculking fear whispered in her ear. Dirt, dirt, dirt. Everything that your children touch is gritty. Your children’s hair, their tender skin, and tired eyes are filled with grime! Lydia’s concerns were wrapped with anxiety. Standing at the window of her kitchen basin, Lydia questioned the world around her. She guessed what dreary memories her children would keep. Misery taunted Lydia’s mind. Will we ever be clean again!

Lydia leaned over the basin and rinsed out rags and tea towels — ready to wipe her children’s skin. Eventually, the Kramer household, like many of their friends, stopped going to church or town. They avoided opportunities that required being out in the wind or trapped in a dust storm. On a dreary afternoon, Albert returned from the feed store. “I learned on the radio that animals are dying on the southern Nebraska border — simply buried alive in piles of topsoil.”

Everyone in the kitchen held their breath and waited for more unwelcome news. “Newspapers say cattle and horses are dying from dust in their lungs or lack of water.” Albert slumped in his chair. “I am going to tie feed sacks over the animals’ faces and noses and hope it keeps the grit from getting inside their nostrils and lungs.”

The family members jerked up their faces and gawked at Albert’s face. “Is he making a joke?” Lydia stared. One by one, Albert’s siblings, in-laws, and mother began smothering their grins or stifling a laugh.

“Oh, come on now. It’s worth a try, right?” He glared at the faces around the table.

“That is . . . ” Emil chuckled, “if the beasts don’t rub them off.” Emil spoke aloud what everyone else was thinking.

“Yeah,” Helen added, “just imagine the milk cows bumping into the barn door because they can’t see.”

“Or the horses shaking their heads and kicking up their heels in protest.” Anna joined in the fun.

“That’s it!” Albert stood red-faced. But as he surveyed his family’s face, he, too, burst out in laughter.

***

On a dreary, windy November morning, Lydia searched her mind. Years ago, we drove to my grandparents for a Thanksgiving feast. Lydia squeezed her eyes and remembered the smell of golden turkey skin and the mellow aroma of duck that hovered throughout her grandmother’s house. Bursts of contagious laughter echoed off the walls as uncles teased their nephews and nieces. Each time another family arrived; an additional plate of scrumptious food was added to the table.

Lydia opened her eyes and sighed. Her shoulders were rounded from fatigue. Now we’re bottled up here, simply attempting to survive. The young mother jumped up from her chair, raised her head, and called out her decision. “I am going to create a plan for the holidays. This family needs joy. You wait and see!”

Anna glanced up from her crocheting and blinked at her daughter- in-law. “I bet you do, Lydia. I bet you will.”

***

Two weeks later, Lydia pestered her husband. “Drive me to my parents’ house.”

Albert jerked his head up. “It’s only ten degrees out there!”

“Trust me, Albert, I’ve got a plan.” She cast a sly grin, and Albert raised his eyebrows. Something was up! Lydia shared her secret plan as the car rumbled between snow ruts. When they arrived, Albert joined her father for a hot cup of coffee. Lydia and her mother climbed the creaky stairs and began their search. Packed away in the storage room, Lydia found the books she enjoyed as a child. “Oh, my favorite, Anne of Green Gables! Thank you for not throwing it away.”

“I couldn’t. I remembered you reading these books for hours and hours.” Her mother beamed at Lydia as if she were still a little girl. Digging further into the pile, Lydia chose The Tales of Peter Rabbit and The Wind in the Willows. She closed her eyes and hugged the books. Why didn’t I think of this before! Three dusty stuffed toys lay piled in one corner. “Oh, Mother,” Lydia sighed, “you saved my two dolls!”

“They require a little cleaning, but I bet Dorothy will still love them.” Lydia promised her mother she would wrap a gift for each child and label it from their Grandma Meta. Bundling the precious cargo in a potato sack, Lydia and Albert brought their finds home. Lydia would hide them away, secretly clean them up, and then bring out the gifts of love on the special day.

***

On Christmas Eve, Herman, Martha, and their two-year-old son, Jasper, drove to the Kramer house and joined Albert’s household. Covered with quilts and plopped on someone’s lap, the families piled into their cars. Through the snow drifts, the combined Kramer families fought the cold and snow while headed for church.

Fear of fire demanded no lighted Christmas tree, no scented candles, or citrusy pine wreaths in the small country church. But the weary, rural congregation sang the Christmas hymns with enthusiasm. Albert, who seldom sang in public, raised his loud voice, and celebrated his Savior’s birth. Lydia squeezed his hand and rested her head against his strong arm.

Lydia’s mind moved to the Biblical verse, Ecclesiastes 3:4, A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. Lydia cherished what God had given — her husband, her children, and her family members. The rural community — small town or farm family — struggled to raise their families during the hostile depression and cruel weather. But Lydia sensed the country congregation valued their faith and friendships.

The children bounced up and down in the car on the way home. “Maybe Santa Claus has come.” Dorothy whispered.

Anna squeezed her granddaughter in a tight hug, “There might be surprises.”

Albert and Lydia exchanged a questioning glance. They had not shared their secret. Did she know?

When the car families reached Albert’s home, the children raced into the house. They tore off their coats and sat around the frail pasture cedar tree and squirmed on the parlor floor. Soon they sat quiet as they shared precious cookies and milk. With a loud slam of the kitchen door, Albert stomped his feet. “Look, this was outside! I wonder who it’s for?” He carried the burlap bag of gifts that he and Lydia had hidden.

“Santa Claus was here!” Walt leapt into the air and helped his father tote the sack into the parlor. The children weren’t the only members surprised by the visit from Santa. Emil and Bertha shared wide eyes with Helen. Albert passed out gifts to his kids and their cousins. Each one was wrapped in a piece of fabric cut from an old blanket.

Dorothy received one doll and a book about Peter Rabbit. She squealed when she opened another doll from Grandma Janssen. Walt opened two books, Wind in the Willows from Grandma Janssen and Peter Pan from Santa. Herman and Martha’s little boy received a stuffed animal from Santa. Of course, Baby James didn’t realize it, but he received a stuffed dog.

Spirits lifted while the grown-ups watched the joy on the children’s faces. Then without warning, Helen startled everyone as she scampered up the stairs. “Is something wrong?” Martha asked Lydia who shrugged and shook her head.

A few minutes later, Helen bounded down the stairs as she sang Jingle Bells. In her arms, she carried a pile of knitted stocking caps for the children. The Kramer children surrounded their aunt as she distributed a hat and scarf to each child. “The kids really needed these.” Lydia giggled at Helen’s surprise gifts. “But where did you get the yarn?”

“I unraveled three old sweaters I found tucked away. Then I knitted in my bedroom all October and November. It saved my sanity!”

Lydia leaped up and hugged her sister-in-law tightly. “Oh, but I’m not done!” Helen giggled. “I found old clothes in the attic!” She again scooted up the stairs and returned to present a woven rag rug to Anna and her two sisters-in-law. “There is a purpose for everything, even old raggedy material!”

The women hugged their rugs. “Helen, you proved love still lives in the Kramer house.” Martha gave Helen a kiss on the cheek.

“Now it’s my turn!” Emil jumped up from his chair and dashed through the kitchen door into the dark night. Again, everyone peeked at each other and snickered. “What’s my brother up to?” Albert glanced at Bertha who grinned like the Chesire cat. Stomping the snow from his boots, Emil pranced into the parlor as he held a sled in his hands. Walt and Dorothy screamed with joy.

“Oh, my goodness!” his older brother chuckled. “I remember this. Where did you find it?”

“Hidden away in the hayloft under stacks of old, grain bags. I couldn’t believe my eyes!” Emil beamed as he pointed out the mended broken pieces. “Hiding my project took slick work. Albert kept coming into the barn.” The family chortled and pointed at Albert. “I sharpened the blades and rubbed green walnuts on the wood to make it shiny like new. Do you like it?”

Walt and Dorothy gave their uncle a hug and kiss. “I bet it will fly over the snow!” Walt rubbed his hand over the wood.

When the gaiety and thanks quieted, Anna slipped from her chair and raised her hand. Anna’s new softened persona made her more approachable, especially with Helen. Taking in a deep breath, she continued in a faint voice. “I never received love as a child. My mother never cared for me.”

Lydia and Helen froze. There, at last, was the wretched reason Anna was always so mean.

“I didn’t know my father. He was never a part of my life, and I lived so many years with that embarrassment. I learned not to trust anyone, and that blinded me to those who loved me.” Her sons and daughter stared at each other silently, stunned by her revelation.

Anna paused and gazed at each of her children. “I have watched as our family worked so hard this past year. Your father would have been so proud of you.”

The three brothers stared down at their hands and attempted to hide any tears welling in their eyes.

“My heart aches for you young, desperate mothers. Each day, you try so hard to care for your children under such demanding conditions.” She sighed. “As I watched you, I was reminded of 1st Corinthians, Love is patient, love is kind. I see those actions in Lydia every day.”

Lydia’s tears fell down her face as she whimpered at Anna’s sudden praise. “I ask you all for your forgiveness.” Anna’s shoulders bent and shuddered.

Bewildered, Albert rose unsure what to do. Then he rushed to his mother and embraced her shedding tears of reconciliation. Herman, Emil, and Helen joined them and wrapped their arms around their mother. The act of family unity had finally arrived after so many long, sad years. But no matter, they remained reconciled now and would continue to grow their relationships.

After the hugs and kisses, Anna raised her finger. “Wait there a minute.” A grin graced her face, and she winked at her grandchildren. She rushed into her bedroom and returned with secret gifts in her arms. While she had spent alone time in her bedroom, Anna Kramer had refashioned old shirts and pants from Walter’s closet. She renewed them into outfits for her family.

Helen, Bertha, Martha, and Lydia received slips and undergarments crafted from Walter’s white cotton shirts. Helen and Lydia giggled with joy; their undergarments and dingy bedclothes had become tatters. These refashioned clothes were as special as any expensive store-bought lingerie. Anna gifted each of her sons and William a tailored pair of Walter’s pants. Albert beamed at his mother. “Now I can attend church in a pair of pants with no holes.” William, shy and nervous, kissed Anna’s cheek.

Lastly, the grandmother had used her old black dresses and resewed them into shirts and pinafores for her grandchildren. She added lace trim and colorful buttons to make them appear cheerful. Her grandchildren would wear new clothes to church on Sundays. As the difficult years progressed, Anna continued remaking curtains, old dresses, and printed cloth feed sacks into new outfits for the family. In time, she took her hats out of storage and refashioned them.

Anna Kramer found her calling. Her new joy in life became a blessing for her children. “This world will not defeat us,” Anna spoke low. “We are resilient. With the help of God, we will survive.”

Finding Strength

The year 1936 brought continued dust storms and excruciating heat. Adding to the struggle, the final months of winter recorded rollercoaster temperatures. One frosty day, the thermometer next to the backdoor might record below freezing. The next day sunny skies warmed temperature into the sixties which melted the snow.

By January 9th, the thermometer read seventy-six degrees. The sudden warmth and melting made dirt roads slimy and impassable. There appeared to be no relief of the heat. But then, of course, nature had changed her fickle mind. Contrary as usual, February weather became the coldest month in the past years.

The pattern of rising and dropping temperatures affected the health of animals and humans. As the family shared a supper of Mean soup with rabbit meat, Emil shared a surprise announcement. “I took a job at the feed store in Platte City. I’m going to fill feed sacks and do general labor. Wages aren’t much, but they could buy supplies at the grocery.”

Silence resounded as everyone stopped chewing. The shocked faces around the table gawked at him.

“No.” Albert shook his head. “No, we’re not so poor that my little brother has to find work elsewhere.” In her silence, Lydia wondered. Why can’t Emil work elsewhere! The wages would be such a blessing.

Bertha kept her face down but showed no surprise at Emil’s announcement. “Yes, I will.” Emil rose up from. the table with his eyes dark and his forehead furrowed. “And I ask you not to think of me as your little brother. I’m a man. A man with a wife, and people I care about.” He took two steps closer to his brother’s chair.

“People will say that I can’t take care of my household! I’ll be known as a failure!” Albert’s eyes narrowed as he rose from his chair.

“Big brother, this isn’t about you.” Albert’s head jerked back. “You can’t control the weather.” Emil spoke softly and soothing. “Father couldn’t have done more for sure. Don’t ya know? You’re my hero.”

Anna Kramer’s voice rang out vividly and powerfully. “If E mil wants to give back to the family, we musn’t refuse his offer.” Her voice reminded them of the old Anna they all remembered. “There ain’t nothing worse than offering a gift and then having it refused.”

“Thanks, Mother; it is a gift.” Emil rushed over to his mother and put his arm around her shoulders. “A gift which I want to give to you all and my wife.”

Albert rose from his chair and the brothers leaned into each other. Their eyes locked. “Are you sure?” The older eyed his little brother, “You don’t mind?”

“There’s no farm work to do. Nothing is growing.” Emil put his hands on his brother’s shoulders and faced him. “We will be out of food soon. What kind of Kramer would I be if I sat in the kitchen with the women all day?”

“Yeah, and we don’t need him here to boss us around, either.” Helen grinned. Everyone spun their faces toward her, and then each person sensed the release of tension.

“Well, it would help,” Albert grinned and shoved Emil, “but only for a while, maybe.”

Emil glanced at the faces around the table. “Bertha and I appreciate how you let us move in here and accept room and food.”

“Oh, no, Emil. We are glad to have you,” his sister-in-law raised her hand. “You and Bertha both pull your weight.”

“I am also feel obligated to do this for my own pride.” Emil sat by his shy wife whose eyes were rimmed with tears. “Like big brother suggested, maybe I’ll work there just for a while.” Bertha teamed at her husband with pride. They locked eyes which shared a secret that would come in time.

***

The summer months arrived blazing with sizzling heat. Emil had chosen a tough time to work in a hot, grain elevator and feed store. Coming home at night, his shirts dripped with perspiration and reeked of sweat. Bertha kept a bucket of cool well water waiting for Emil each night. Throughout the summer, the radio reported that temperatures continued to be the hottest in the past fifty years. Everyone slumped around the farm; the oppressive sultry air bore down on their bodies.

Lydia’s children scampered around the house and farmyard wearing as little clothing as possible. Their skin turned a toasty brown, and their hair bleached a soft white. But soon, working outside in the hot dust-filled air became too dangerous. Stories were repeated how some men baked while working in the fields during the heatwave. They had fallen ill to sunstroke.

Thankful that their windmill continued to pump, the brothers carried buckets of water to the horses and poured it over their backs. Each time the milk cows plodded to the tank for water, young Walt stood by and splashed water on their heads. The brothers each toted buckets to the hogs to relieve their panting.

The family was thankful their chickens were alive. Farm families began eating eggs for breakfast, dinner, and supper — fried, scram- bled, boiled, and poached. What the household couldn’t grow themselves, they now purchased with Emil’s small wage. “I don’t bring much home, do I?” Emil frowned as he laid his few dollars on the kitchen table.

“It’s more than we had before, son. Thank you.” Anna wrapped her youngest son in a hug.

Albert began bartering for whatever supplies he could. He took eggs, chicken, and butter into the grocer in Platte City and bartered for sugar, salt, pins, thread, and shoes. Albert cradled the baskets of eggs and tins of butter as he conveyed them fifteen miles to the gas station in Columbia. There he exchanged them for gas needed for the car and tractor. He later stretched the precious fuel by adding a slight amount of water to the gas tanks.

***

The continued months of dust and grime wore on Lydia’s fortitude and increased her anxiety. Daily, she washed her children’s hands and faces. The moment her children woke in the morning and before they fell asleep, Lydia hovered with a wet rag. Her fervor frightened her children. “Mama, no. You already wiped my hair this morning.” Her son covered his head and dug his chin into his chest while he dashed around the kitchen table.

“Walt don’t fight me now. I must get this dust off you.” Chasing her son around the room, the frustrated mother noticed Dorothy as she hid behind the door. “Dorothy, you come here, right now! Mama wants to keep you clean.”

Pressing her body between the door and corner, Dorothy cried, “No, Mama, no more.”

Lydia gripped her daughter’s tiny shoulders and shook. “Yes, you will hold still. You don’t know what could happen to you. Then I would be to blame. So, stop it now!” With a gasp, Lydia stopped. What am I doing! Falling to the floor, she pulled her little girl to her breast and sobbed. “Oh, Dorothy, Mama’s sorry. Don’t cry.”

Her children’s bodies stood rigid and stared at her with fear. “No, no, Mama’s sorry.” She reached her hand out to Walt, but the boy shrugged and dashed out the door. Dorothy’s body trembled and stared as if she didn’t know her mother. Lydia forced a trembling smile. “Baby, go outside and play. Mama made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

The girl’s quivering fingers wiped her tears as she whispered. “Mama, you didn’t hurt me.” Leaning close, Dorothy’s lips pressed on Lydia’s face. “The dirty ground did.” With a sigh, the daughter scurried out the screened door and joined her brother.

Lydia lowered her face to the gritty, kitchen floor and wailed. Anna rushed into the room. “What’s the matter? Are the children all right?”

“I am a horrible mother!” Lydia lifted her face. “I don’t deserve my children!” Her forehead pressed against the dusty floorboards.

“Heaven’s! What are you talking about?”

Lydia’s face grimaced, “I acted so angry about Dorothy’s filthy face that I shook her shoulders.” She continued to face the floor with shame.

Anna knelt next to her daughter-in-law and whispered. “Give me your hand.” Anna helped Lydia stand and guided her to the kitchen table. Lydia leaned on her elbows onto the dirty tablecloth and covered her face. “Lydia, do you think you are the first mother ever to make a mistake? We all did and still do.” Anna rubbed Lydia’s back as her daughter-in-law sobbed. “You will always regret this outburst, but it’s a blessing when bad memories fade away.”

Lydia scowled and stared out the window. “We go to bed filthy and wake up caked in sweaty mud. I don’t know how our family can go on. How does Albert pull himself out of bed each morning and walk out into this world of dirt?”

“My faith helps me open my eyes for another day.” Anna squeezed the young mother’s hand. “Listen carefully, please. You must learn from this. Men and women have different jobs in this world and separate ways to succeed.”

Lydia frowned and shook her head in confusion. “But men are the strongest.”

“Don’t tell my sons, but that isn’t true.” Anna pressed her dry lips together and formed a thin smile. “Men look forward when they walk. They look ahead and plan where the tribe will go. They see what can be done and steer the members to their futures.”

Anna leaned close as if sharing a secret, “Women daily walk with their eyes on each family member — searching their eyes for illnesses or woes. The wife maintains the home, provides for all, and is in constant watch for dangers.” Anna lifted Lydia’s chin, glad to see the glimmer of understanding. “Throughout the night, the woman comforts her man and provides strength and fortitude so that he can wake the next day.”

Rising, Anna shuffled to the window and peered out at the parched gloom. “This wisdom I didn’t learn from my mother. She had no desire to give me any advice. But another older woman who lived next door tried to keep my spirits alive. I forgot her wisdom for a while. But as I became a wife and mother, I remembered her knowledge. It aided me in my early years of marriage.” Anna turned away from the window. “But then along the way, I allowed jealousy and sorrow to enter my heart.”

This is why Anna asked Walter for forgiveness. Lydia waited surprised. Anna never shared such personal information, so Lydia sat stunned. “Anna, I don’t know if I am strong enough.”

Anna sighed. “In our weakness, we falter and try too hard. But there is no shame in caring.”

Lydia hung her head, “Oh, but . . .”

“Don’t stop because you stumbled. Ask for God’s guidance. Hug Dorothy and Walter, ask them for forgiveness, and then forge ahead. It is all we women can do. We don’t give in — we trust God.” Anna’s advice filled Lydia’s heart and helped sustain her for years ahead.

***

In small towns including Platte City and Columbia, stores, banks, and other businesses depended on each other. If the surrounding farmers couldn’t make money, the businesses didn’t make money. Communities and churches worked together. “I read a handbill hanging at the feed store.” Emil raised his eyebrows and grinned one night at supper. “The local churches, all the denominations, are joining together and hosting a potluck dinner on Saturday night.”

Helen clapped her hands and giggled. “I’ll get to see friends and of course, Will.” Everyone snickered knowing how much she missed her fiancé.

In the next months, local schoolhouses organized one-meal parties. Those attending brought food if they could, and everyone shared whether a family contributed or not. The purpose for such frivolous events was to ease the burdens of loneliness and the feelings of desperation. Men pulled playing cards from their pockets and joined in games of Pitch and the German card game, Sheepshead. Brave adults and children acted out skits on amateur talent nights. No money was required for the experience of enjoyment and community.

As women arranged the food or supervised the children’s games, gossip and neighborhood news were shared. However, the continued fears about neighbors with chest pains or other ailments filled the mothers with dread. “Did you hear,” Gerda Harms whispered, “My grandpa coughed himself into the grave.” Emma Schuman nodded. “We watched as he gasped and coughed for days. Then he turned blue and died.”

“God will save us,” Harriet Johnson jetted out her chest. “It sure as hell won’t be the government. The women nodded in unison but silently prayed in their hearts.

Regaining a New Life

The Johnson’s rusted-out truck swayed from side to side as it turned into the Kramer’s farmyard. The truck bed carried the few pieces of furniture and kitchen supplies the family owned. Albert, followed by Lydia, pushed through the screened door, and called out, “I’d hoped to see you again before you left.”

Stepping out of the truck, Karl’s slim shoulders stooped as he motioned for Albert to step away from his family. “Albert, there’s five milk cows still at the farm. Can you buy them from me?” Karl Johnson toed the dry earth with his worn boot and avoided eye contact. When Albert hesitated, Karl reached out and placed his hand on his neighbor’s arm. “If you can’t, I’ll understand why. But then I’ll have to shoot them dead because I can’t bear thinking of them starving to death.” The farmer’s voice was thin with sadness.

“Yes, of course I will.” Albert placed his hand over Karl’s. The two men strolled to the Varn and discussed what form of compensation the payment would take. Money was scarce for everyone, but Albert would find something useful for the Johnson family.

Lydia leaned against the side of the truck and talked low with Hattie. “We will miss you all so much. Where are you going?”

“Karl’s got an uncle in Missouri. We’re heading to see what we can do there.” Hattie laid her head against the windowsill and closed her eyes. “Oh, Lydia. Karl’s sob broken. We have to find a way to start new.”

***

During the next months of trials and battles with the weather, an important asset arrived in the rural Midwest. Until the mid-1930s, just one-third of Nebraska farms had access to electricity and twenty-five percent of farm homes owned a telephone. But now electricity arrived in rural areas. The drudgery of working with dangerous oil lamps was about to end. Platte County farmers were now able to stroll out to their barns in the pre-dawn mornings and again during the late nights without using dangerous kerosene lamps.

To encourage the speed of the availability of electricity, the Rural Electric Association dropped telephone poles along a proposed route. Farmers like Albert, Herman, and Emil earned twenty-five cents for each posthole that they dug.

“Albert and Emil brought in over five dollars last week digging those holes,” Anna teamed at her sons’ ambition.

“But it’s such hard work.” Bertha joined the conversation. “Emil says that to hold up those tall poles, they have to dig so deep and the ground is so hard.”

“Yeah, for only a quarter a hole!” Lydia groaned. “But it still adds to the money jar.”

“Just think!” Helen chirped, “Lights without fire!”

***

After the Kramer house received electricity, Anna surprised her family one supper. “I have a bit of money hidden away in a sock drawer. It has been there for years and years. I almost forgot it until I discovered it last week. I had been saving for a catastrophe.” She peeked around the table at her family’s curious faces.

“Well, so what is it?” Emil chuckled. He didn’t believe his mother had kept such a secret.

Anna finally announced. “I want to use the money to buy one of those fancy refrigerators!” Anna was rewarded by the gaping faces of her children. They stared at her in shock and disbelief. But then their ideas about what this new contraption could mean began to spool in their brains. “Well, what do you think?” She held out her hands, “Couldn’t we use one?”

“Oh, Anna, I can’t imagine how nice it would be.” Lydia whispered, filled with wonder.

Helen scanned everyone’s face. “Shouldn’t we use the money somewhere else?” Lydia wondered if Helen referred to a wedding.

“I think a refrigerator would save food from spoiling so that we could make and reuse meals more.” Bertha forced herself to speak her mind.

“Good idea, Bertha. Yes, Mother, let’s do that.” Albert gave his mother a smile and a wink.

***

By spring of 1937, scanty clouds turned grey with moisture. Echoes of thunder rumbled, and earth’s inhabitants prayed. When the meager clouds washed the face of the earth for a few hours, people waited, afraid of disappointment. The next week when jagged lightning resounded with a thunderous roar and the smell of rain filled their noses, people hoped for one full day of rain. Finally, the heavens opened and released rain, like manna from above, for more than one day.

Anna and her family dashed outside and held out their arms and lifted their faces to the source of life. The children giggled and jumped in the puddles while the adults allowed the rain shower to wash over their hair and faces. Hopeful farmers roamed through their fields and gave themselves permission to be optimistic.

Nature now changed its course, and consistent rains returned to Nebraska. The winds no longer Lilew with anger, but instead came with warming breaths of life which encouraged trees and shrubs to form buds. Once again, creeks were filled with the throaty sounds of toads and calling birds. The wild plums and chokecherry bushes produced their pink and white blossoms and the promise of future fruit.

Albert and his brothers strolled through fields of blue-flowered alfalfa and the yellow blossoms of sweet-clover which coaxed back the flitting butterflies and pollinating bees. God sent Lydia a special gift. By the end of May, the lilacs around her house released their sweet smell and sent the fragrance over the farm.

However, the rains did not save all the Kramers’ farm friends. There were families who had lost their money, their physical strength, and their faith. Because their land was of little value, several local farmers abandoned their farms. Those who decided not to leave the decades of their grandparents’ arduous work and dedication included the Kramers and the Janssens. They continued to do what they could to hold on. Farmers needed to restart in many ways. Crop seed needed to be purchased, and idle, rusted machinery had to Lee repaired. There was still demanding work to be done before Americans were back on their feet.

***

Deep in reflection, Lydia strolled out to the wide porch and inhaled the return of nature. The grass had greened, and the willow tree’s new leaves swayed in the cooling freeze. She lifted her head and grinned. Lowering herself into the repainted rocker, Lydia reminisced about the last two years.

Her mother-in-law, Anna Kramer, had died the March before. Her heart simply wore out but not her love of God. Once she intimidated a younger Lydia but then became a dear friend. Anna’s last years were filled with love and joy.

Herman and Martha, monthly guests at Lydia’s Sunday dinners, continued farming while raising three children. Lydia remembered how the young married man risked his money during the Stock Market crash for the good of his neighbors.

Emil and Bertha rented an acreage down the road while he continued helping Albert with the farm. Blessed with two little girls, they hoped for more children in the future.

The cool softness of the dusk reminded Lydia of her closest sister-in-law, Helen. Now living on a farm near Brayton with William, she awaited a new baby coming the next spring. Helen filled a special place in Lydia’s heart. Now a handsome wife, Helen would be a great mother and continued blessing Lydia’s life.

Albert and Lydia celebrated their tenth anniversary in May with the announcement of a new baby coming in November. Walt, Dorothy, and James were strong and healthy. Lydia’s eyes turned upward and whispered. Thank you for my children. As if responding, the distant stars twinkled in the twilight as Albert chased the three Kramer children run around the house followed by their collie pup and several purring cats.

“To bed, children!” Albert picked up the youngest and the two others followed. He turned to his wife, “Coming?”

“In a moment, I have to talk with God first.” Lydia gazed over the horizon and toward the water tower of Platte City while the distant stars winked at her through the coming twilight. Her lips parted in a small smile when she remembered the young naive girl who daydreamed of a fairytale life. No one can predict the future, I know now. Lydia whispered to herself. But if one day the heavens turn black filled with invading pests or filth, I will not give in. The farm homemaker and mother chuckled to herself. It took hard work and time, but this woman who stands before you matured into a proud wife and devoted mother. Thank you, God.

Lydia then winked at a bright star “Thank you, Anna. I daily remember your advice.” Lydia no longer whimpered at the sound of a harsh voice. Clear-sighted, she trusted her inner self and had become resolute in the belief she would survive.

The farmwife studied her weather-beaten hands and relished the leathery callouses. Although the angry winds, dirt, and drought changed their lives for nine years, Lydia and those she loved survived. Lydia Kramer recognized that future trials and disappointments would not defeat the strengths of a loving family and the women who loved them.

Absorbed in the moonlight of promise, Lydia listened to the returned doves as they whispered good night to the world. With a sigh, the strong woman thanked her God.

You didn’t let me down. You held my hand while I learned to trust myself, my family, and put on the armor of your strength. I am a strong woman of wind and dust. Through our hands and hearts, our families will survive.

Blog

Copyrights

Chapters One and Two of Women of Dust and Wind

New Perspectives on Love

New Perspectives on Life

Complex Skills and Simple Joys

Understanding Jealousy and Love

Country Entertainment

New Hopes

Cold Pain

Colder Reality

The Coldness of Death

Blessings Before the Storm

Battling Bad Decisions, Weather, and Luck

Feelings Laid Bare

Continued Plagues and Courageous Hearts

Nature's Continued Wrath

Fighting Back and Making Memories

Finding Strength

Regaining a New Life

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