~ The Wooden Nickel ~

by

Alisha Paige

Louise liked to take the wooden treasure out of its music box before bedtime. After she put her cotton nightgown on she would remove it from the bookshelf and sit on the edge of her bed. How many times had she held it between her fingers and closed her eyes, remembering the day he had placed it in her hand and closed her fingers around it? How many years had gone by now? Over half a century, yet she could still feel his strong hand close over hers. She even remembered the holes in his mittens and how dingy his face had looked, smudged with soot and dirt from the train he had stowed away on for so many nights. She had never seen a more handsome face in all her life and though she was only eleven years old, her breath had caught at the sight of him.

Louise picked up the weathered diary that sat forever beside its companion, the wooden nickel. The lace of her nightgown caught on the tattered pages as she flipped to the first page. Tears filled her eyes, smearing the words as she read her own writing.

October 1, 1933

Dear Diary,

I know I haven’t written in a long time, but I just had to write today. I was standing in a bread line today with my little sister, Ida. Pa carried us to town to buy more supplies. He had to buy some more seeds for the garden, so he dropped me and my sister off to stand in line while he went to the general store. We didn’t even know what the line was for, but like mama says, If there’s a line, get in it. So we did.

I don’t even know what all the fuss is about anyhow. I know the stock market crashed and it has to do with a lot of money. Most folks lost everything, but it seems as though we didn’t have anything to begin with. When you have nothing to lose, you come out better in the long run. That’s how I see it anyhow and that’s how Pa sees it. I was born poor and I don’t think we are any poorer than we were before Black Tuesday, just more people talk about it is all, but Pa says we have a lot more than most folks and somehow, we get by just fine.

We stood in line for half an hour maybe. I noticed these two boys behind me. They kept scuffling and the taller one kept pushing the shorter one around, but he wasn’t shorter by much. Maybe an inch or two. I gathered that they were brothers, but I’m still not sure. I had my own problems to deal with. Ida started getting real fussy and asking about Pa. She started crying and acting like a baby. Even though she’s almost seven now, she acts about half her age half the time. She kept saying she was hungry. I tried to give her my apple, but she’s so picky. Mama says we’re too poor to be picky, but Ida could care less. She’d soon enough starve. I think the boy heard us and felt sorry for us and figured we were standing in line for food.

I didn’t know what we were in line for. Like I said, if we see one, we get in it. I found out later that it was for bread, but mama makes most of our bread and even we aren’t that poor. But we must have looked like it today. I think those two boys were poorer than us and they sure looked more hungry and dirty, too. They needed a bath. I heard them talking about trains and I’m wondering if they live on them, like those hoboes Pa was talking about. Ida just kept on and on with her fit throwing and saying she was hungry when the boy tapped me on the shoulder. At first I just froze, not knowing what to do, but I’m half grown and really almost a woman. Mama was only thirteen when she married Pa and I figured I better start acting the part.

I wished Ida would just disappear into the good ole earth or something, but she didn’t. She kept on and on, pulling on my sleeve, asking for Pa like she was orphaned or something. The boy tapped me again and I turned, trying to look adult like with my head held high and my lips tight.

Yes sir? I asked. I tried to act a little bit snobbish like Miss Crowfoot (really Miss Crawford, but we call her that cause she’s as mean as an old crow) and now I kinda feel a little bit rude for being like that toward the boy and wished I was a bit nicer at the time.

Excuse me, little lady he said and he tipped his hat at me. It was almost so strange the way it made me feel. My heart beat a little faster and I felt all flushed all over, maybe from being a might too shy or something I don’t think I’m to know yet. (I don’t know why I know this, but I just know it.) He was so darned polite and he had the whitest smile underneath all that soot. His teeth shined just perfect and he didn’t strike me as a hobo or even a boy who would become one someday, but I tell you, I think he is. All that talk of trains and towns and hoping they don’t find them. Who they is, I’m not sure. Maybe his folks, or I hope not, (I pray not for the nice boy’s sake) the law. I don’t think so though. It would be hard to think of him in such a bad light. He hardly looks the outlaw type.

I said, Yes? and tilted my eyebrows up, just a bit, like Miss Crowfeet and I think my hair was sticking out of the side of my bonnet and I wanted to fix it, but I didn’t. How I wished I would have known I was to run into him today. I would have taken more time and wore a better dress, maybe an older looking dress, like my older sister Lily has. One with lace around the collar, but oh, well, it’s over now and no since in crying about it.

He asked me if I was very hungry and I don’t really remember what I said, because I was staring at his perfectly white teeth and how I wanted to scrub his face. Even a poor person can do better than that, that’s what Mama says. At least we’re clean. No sense in looking the part, but that was not a nice thought I had and I felt bad the instant I thunk it. Maybe he couldn’t help it, specially if he was living out life as a hobo on the run. I think when I got my wits about me, I said I wasn’t but that my little sister was kinda hungry, or maybe I should have said picky, but even I didn’t want to talk bad about Ida on a count of she is still my little sis and all.

He fished around in his pocket for a sec. When he opened his coat, why there was a whole mess of pockets. I saw a bowl and a spoon tucked up high, under his shoulder in a big pocket that looked like he might of stitched himself, for the stitches weren’t at all straight, not at all. I think Ida coulda done a better job. By and by he found something in one of the pockets and I pretended not to stare too hard, but it was hard not to. He had so much stuff in his pockets. I was wondering if he was maybe a magician traveling from town to town. I’ve heard of them.

He smiled real big when he found it and held it out to me. I just stared back at him. I didn’t know what it was and I didn’t know if Pa would want me to take it and he’d be back at any time. He’d be powerfully mad if he saw me taking gifts from hobo boys. He took my hand and I felt the scratchy wool mitten and noticed it had holes and only two fingers, the other three were gone. I bet his fingers were cold, but I can assure you, they were not.

He opened my hand and put the object in my palm. I feel dumb for it now, cause it was a gift, but he had to close my fingers over it and he smiled again. The most wonderful smile I’d ever seen and I could close my eyes and see his face as if it were clean. He was most handsome. What’s your name? he asked and I told him it was Marjorie, but that I hated that name so I went by my middle name, Louise.

You can have my wooden nickel, Louise. We shared a big potato today and you two look really hungry. I was sort of taken a back at that statement from him, but it was still nice. I hoped I didn’t look too hungry, but now when I think about it... I feel sure he was mostly talking about Ida since she carried on forever about her growling stomach and all.

Then he was gone. Him and his brother left the line and I watched them walk away, kicking each other the whole way and I noticed that they did head straight for the train yard and I felt sad for them, cause I bet he coulda used the wooden money more than me...that was what I thought, but when we got to the front of the line to buy the bread, they wouldn’t take my wooden nickel anyhow. The man had laughed at me and said it had already expired and then laughed some more, saying it could only be used in Washington anyhow.

I wondered how the boy got the wooden nickel cause we were a long way from Washington. I asked Pa on the way home and he said it was like six or seven states away and we live in Texas. Pa said I could keep the wooden nickel on a count of it ain’t no good anyhow. (Don’t worry, Pa was still able to get us some bread and it didn’t cost a thing.) I think I’ll keep it as a souvenir. I wrapped it in some nice tissue paper from last Christmas and put it in my shoebox. I keep it by the window in my room and I can look at it whenever I want.

I love that old wooden nickel. Whenever I unwrap it, I get a nice feeling. I’ve taken it out three times today already and I can still see his face. Ida says I’m in love with the boy, but I’m not so sure if I am or not. I just thought he had the nicest face in the world and I wonder if he’s riding the train right now and far away from here. (Secretly, I’ll tell you something dear Diary.) I hope to go to town again soon. I pray to run into him again. I forgot to ask his name, but I’m sure it’s a fine name, whatever it is. I hope his mama gave him a good first name, not like mine and he’s proud to say it.

Well, good night, sweet Diary. I hope I have some good news to tell you soon. Something full of venture and excitement. Maybe I’ll hop the train, too. (Not really, you know me. Plain Louise, sticking around to help out and besides, I would miss Mama and Pa and Ida and even snobby ole Lily, I guess.)

Hoping Beyond Hope,

Louise