Chapter 11 My Homecoming

Chapter 11

My Homecoming

Bill was on the Omaha platform at midnight. Our meeting was as thrilling as our reunion in Los Angeles when I arrived from Australia in time for our first wedding anniversary in 1946. This time, I was arriving for our fifteenth wedding anniversary.

The last miles of my journey home with Bill were spent on a bus to Sioux City, Iowa, followed by a transfer to the Chicago bus, which would drop us off in Manson. The bus stopped in the middle of a crossroads, unable to go on because of a stalled car on the road. We were out in the middle of nowhere with only the freshly turned fields, ready for spring planting of corn, on both sides of us - not a tree in sight!

“What’s going on?” a passenger called out.

Then another voice from the back of the bus: “Maybe they need some help out there driver!”

The bus driver opened the door to allow a person to enter. “Do you have a Ruth and Bill Frost on this bus?” demanded the person in a loud and rough manner, from the lower step of the bus and hidden from most of the passengers. Everyone could hear the booming voice. Who would be looking for us out here? I didn’t recognize the voice.

The well-endowed body in the familiar black dress, my friend Lorraine Hansen, stepped up to the level of the bus driver. She was a sight to behold! “Ruth Frost has been gone off to Australia far too long, and I am placing her under arrest and escorting her back to Manson where she belongs.” She was wearing a fake sheriff’s badge made of cardboard, and was carrying a pair of handcuffs. I laughed and cried at the same time - it was so good to see my dear friend, Lorraine!

The passengers cheered and clapped as we alighted, while the bus driver handed over my suitcases and packages. It was a delightful surprise. My bohemian friend, Lorraine, gave me such a bear hug I thought she would take my last breath. Bill had known about this hijacking plan but not where it would take place. With his poker face I would never have suspected a kidnapping plot.

My neighbour, Marian, had the evening meal already prepared, the children all bathed and ready to welcome me home. I couldn’t believe how much the children had grown. Janis, our five-year-old, hung back as if she couldn’t believe I was finally home. She acted unsure as if thinking: was it really her Mother? I was very suntanned and my hair was cut very short - I couldn’t blame her!

“Are you going to stay at home now?” asked our sensitive child, Janis, as I hugged her. “We wanted you to see our funeral for the kitten. It died.” I wasn’t there for that very important occasion.

Edna and Otto Edna

When I thought of all the people who had urged me to make the trip, and had volunteered to care for our children while Bill was working, I knew I was truly blessed with the most wonderful friends. Our healthy family had been well cared for during my absence.

Edna and Otto Garrels and their two daughters, Ardis and Alice, had our children staying with them for a while on their farm when I was in Australia. When Edna started describing the blizzards, the children began sparring for my attention, wanting to be the ones to tell me what happened. Edna relinquished the floor. We couldn’t get to town and Daddy was home all by himself.” Jerilyn sounded sad. “We waited so long for the snow ploughs to come and open the roads.”

“And what about the blizzard we had in town, too!” Diane interrupted. “We got snow holidays from school. That was fun.”

“When we opened the front door it was all snow!” Billy said, opening the front door to emphasize his story. “Daddy and I dug and dug a big hole right there, like a tunnel, and we couldn’t get through. We had to go around to the front through all the snowdrifts and dig the snow away from the door and off the front porch. It was really tough work, wasn’t it, Dad?”

“We couldn’t see the garage for days, and Daddy couldn’t get the car out.” Janis took my hand to go see the garage through the side window, so she could describe the height of the big snowdrift. “See, right up to there, above the door.”

“Mom! Remember the big icicles we got last year out the back of our house?” Billy was back fighting to get in the contest again. “You should have seen these ones, right from the roof above our window upstairs all the way to the ground.” I couldn’t help feeling sad that my family had experienced these things while I was having such a good time in Australia and Hawaii. However, there was no way I was going to feel guilty about missing all the snow and below zero temperatures; I abhorred the confinement that winter inflicted on me.

The children had several holidays because of the weather and road conditions, when the buses couldn’t bring the country children into town to attend school. As much as the children loved school, they thought it a special treat to get snow holidays. Unfortunately, they had to make up those missed days before they could start their summer vacation.

We all stayed up late while I caught up on the news and they opened their presents. I still hadn’t opened the one given to me by the many friends I had made in Hawaii. I savoured it till last. Bill was astounded when Billy opened his gift of bongo drums! He shook his head in disbelief that I would do such a thing as buying Billy drums! “Whatever possessed you to buy drums? You used to always say that you would strangle anyone who bought drums for Billy.”

“Honey! I meant kettledrums. Bongo drums are so much more subdued and easier on the ears.”

The girls jiggled around in their grass skirts, Bill and Billy, dressed in their floral shirts, watched as I opened my present. It was a sarong style sundress in apricot and white with a bolero jacket. It had the elegance of an ‘after-five’ creation, ideal for a nightclub in Hawaii, not for the Sunday Supper Club at the local church. It was the dress I had tried on in Jeanie’s sister’s shop, and knew I couldn’t afford it. There was also a pair of aqua sandals that I had secretly admired. It truly amazed me how Jeanie could be so observant. I didn’t need gifts to remind me of the wonderful memories I would treasure forever about Hawaii.

The next night the children planned a Hawaiian supper, and we all worked together with the preparation. I dined in my elegant sundress and jacket and the rest of the family donned their gifts from Hawaii. There were candles on the table to add to the festive meal of fried chicken, corn on the cob and baked potatoes. Jerilyn and Diane baked a cake for dessert, topped with ice cream.

Billy pleaded to be allowed to play his bongos. We agreed he could do a drum roll when the girls brought in the cake and again after the table was cleared. His father was happy to know that I would be in control of the drums. “Now, Billy! I also wanted a bongo drum, but I could only buy two joined together.” I hoped I was being convincing. “The smaller one is yours. It’s OK to play on mine, too, but I will keep them in my room, and when you want to practise, you can take them outside. Remember, though, you must keep them dry.”

At bedtime, the children’s questions were about their Australian aunts, uncles and cousins, as I showed them their relatives’ photographs. “Would they ever come to Iowa to meet our family?” Jerilyn wanted to know. I told them it was highly unlikely.

“The next time I go to Australia, I will take you all with me!” That was a promise I hoped I could keep, but the wrong thing to say at bedtime. They became excited at the prospect of going to Australia, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them that such a trip was not in our immediate future.

The next morning, I was awakened at 4.00am by Billy. He was at the bedroom door asking for his bongo drums. I felt as though I had never left home! Things were already back to normal; the last two months seemed like a dream. As reality came into focus I could see I had created a situation with our son, who would never ‘give in’. He contended that he was old enough to have the bongo drums in his room.

I should have known! When Billy went along with my plan for me to be in charge of the drums, he was marking time until the right moment to give me an argument. Why didn’t I hear the wheels going around in his head? He most likely stayed awake all night, consolidating his plan to win that confrontation. “Billy, go back to bed. You can’t play drums at 4 o’clock in the morning!”

“I don’t want to play them; I just want to look at them!” He was not going to give up, and Bill and I would not have a chance to get back to sleep. “If I’m going to play bongo drums in a band some day, Mom, I am going to have to do a lot of practising.” I had never heard our son mention a musical career!

His father got out of bed, escorted his son to the upstairs doorway, and quietly told him the way it was going to be! “From now on, I will take charge of the bongo drums, and neither you nor your Mother will get to play the bongos unless I say so! Is that clear?” I was snickering, hardly able to contain myself listening to the calm way Bill was handling this. “Now, Billy, go back to bed and do it quietly. Don’t wake your sisters.”

Bill didn’t return to bed right away; he went to the kitchen, put the coffee on and brought two cups of coffee with him. We sat up in bed, both wide awake, drinking our coffee and talking about what had transpired. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Sweetheart, you handled that very well. Are you really going to take charge of the bongos?” I asked, laughing.

“Of course I am!” Bill said. “You know, as I was putting the coffee on, I was thinking about some of the things the children did and said last year, when you went into hospital. They can be such characters, and at times such a worry. Then, there are moments at 4.00am, like this one.”

“Funny you should say that. I was mulling over the same thing just now.” After Bill left for work, I continued to think about how our family members bounced off of one another with our sense of humour, and how different were their personalities. I would say Diane was the quickest on the draw with a sharp retort.