MARRIAGE & TORNADOES
I'm reading Ted Gup's A Secret Gift - with one eye on the 1933 stories he so carefully fleshes out, and the other on the lives of my parents as seen in the many letters from the 1930s that my mother saved. Gup's book places a new framework around those letters.
My parents were married in June of 1933, just after Dad graduated from the Seminary. I have the letter from a small country church in Northern Michigan asking him to be their pastor. He accepted even though they were unable to ordain him until later and only able to pay him $30 a month. (They were finally able to officially call and ordain him in December of that year.)
Gup's depiction of depression poverty enlightens the stories in my parent's letters and offers a context for the hardships their families and so many others endured in those days. A backdrop of pervasive need so prevalent in the late '20s and the early '30s.
Dad's family in South Dakota were especially hard hit. Mom's people in Michigan less so. In spite of a $7 cut in pay, Grandpa V was able to keep his job - and even help the young couple out as needed.
A letter from Dad's unmarried sister writes about the hope of getting a new coat. Hers is short. It should be, she says, she's had it since she was 16. Her brother needs one badly too, but has told her to go ahead. Later Grandma K writes to thank Mom's parents for the coat they sent. He looks so nice in it, she says. I imagine it was one Mom's brothers had outgrown.
Grandma K's letters offer a powerful (yet often understated) peek at life on a SD farm. Grandpa wrote too, but his letters are all in dutch and I can't read them. She is thankful when the boys get a turn to work on the road. They are allowed so many hours and then must wait their turn again.
One Precious Letter
One letter is especially poignant. Dad's job offer came in early May. A month later my parents were married in Michigan. Photos show Mom in a beautiful dress and veil (which she later loaned out to other brides) and Dad in a black tux. (Or maybe that was his familiar preaching suit!) It appears to have been a lovely wedding. I have the reminders of plans and gifts and showers etc that Mom saved. But one thing was missing. No one from Dad's family was there. Letters indicate fond wishes, congratulations and lots of love, but there was no money to travel to Michigan, nor clothes to wear to a wedding if they could get there.
So following their wedding, Mom and Dad traveled to South Dakota. There they celebrated and visited with extended family. Dad preached in his home church before leaving to pack up their belongings and begin their new life. His Mother mentions how much his message meant to her.
Heading back to Michigan, after less than three weeks of married life, Dad landed in the hospital in Chicago with appendicitis. More serious than it first appeared, he was hospitalized for about two weeks. Mom's folks hurried out to help. Extended family kindly offered lodging and assistance for Mom - and after care for Dad.
The treasured letter from Grandma K was written on Saturday, July 1, the day after the shocking news had reached them. Less than a week after their young son had preached for them. The first part of the letter is full of praise and thanksgiving to God. Full of the shock and concern they were feeling. To think that while they had been wondering how the packing was going, Dad was in fact in the hospital having an operation. "It sure shockt us but we are not better than other ones," Grandma writes. (It is interesting that two days later, in a letter from Grandma V, the same phrase "we are not better than other ones" appears! Also, the native language of both Grandmas was Dutch and while they both wrote in English, they would burst into Dutch when writing of deep feelings.)
Then the letter transitions into the rest of the story. Shock and fear had also struck in their South Dakota neighborhood that week. Grandma eases into it by telling that the hot weather had continued after they left, "but this morning it is nice and cool." She continues, "We had a bad wind storm here yesterday about five o'clock. Our buildings all stayed alright, but south of us and west and north it is terrible. There are farms there is nothing left but the house."
They had heard of no deaths, but an uncle's big barn was a total wreck and on their son's farm and at other friends, buildings were badly damaged. There is hardly a mill (windmill) to be seen. "They are all twisted in a nather." Their son Charley's hay is flat to the ground. "Some had a bad hail storm too, and rain." Their farm didn't have much rain, she says, but the corn is all eaten by the grasshoppers. They are thankful that their lives were spared.
Grandma goes on to say that they sold their little pigs for $1.35 each and the calves for $6.00. There is no feed for them. (Some months later, after a government loan was approved, they were able to replace them.) She closes her letter saying she is going over to help clean up at Charley's where there is a lot to do because the windows blew out there "and you can imagine how much dust they have."
She closes by turning back to the news from Chicago. "I hope children your trust is in the Lord in every way in this circumstance. How is your headache, Ann. We are anxious to receive a letter. Best regards from us all. Your loving Mother,"
Tucked into this letter is a small note. "We would have written you folks before but we had no address until we got that night letter."
Such is a glimpse into the heart of an immigrant mother in the hard scrabble days of no money and nature's harsh hand.
-JoMae Keuning Spoelhof
1/11/11
