Verhovayak Lapja, 1944 (27. évfolyam, 1-52. szám)
1944-01-13 / 2. szám
January 13, 1944 31 Mary Walker, Nurse BY ELIZABETH KOLESAR PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURISTIC BRANCH 366 CLEVELAND, OHIO Column Conductor — J. J. Horvath Page 3. The telegram fluttered to the floor as my fingers grew rigid and cold. I felt a shudder and thought my heart had ceased beating forever. Mary Walker, nurse, had been killed during the evacuation of Bataan. Ronnie bit his lower lip and made an effort at rubbing tears of anguish that streaked his youthful face. Father resembled one who had turned to stone, unable to cry or move, as mother clung to him, sobbing bitterly. He finally groped for words and repeated in a consoling manner: “She was a fine girl, Anna, a fine girl.” I did not cry. She wouldn’t want me to shed tears, and I remember her as she lived, a happy guiless individual, whose deeds will not go down in history, but will remain in the hearts of her friends and family forever. “I’ll be with you before you know it, Janie. God’s with us.” Those were the last words she had written to me; words that expressed her simplicity and belief in a free and better world. A pungent odor of something burning, distracted mother as she rushed to the oven, only to find her apple pie burnt beyond recognition. Apple pie—yes, Mary’s favorite. Why, I remember when I was five and Mary twelve, mother suggested that we hike to Uncle Damon’s farm to pick a basket of apples for pie. We all loved mother’s golden brown pies with delicious apple juice oozing through the lattice-leaf patterns. Mother dressed me in cousin Stan’s delapitated overalls that were a trifle too long and had to be rolled twice from the bottom. An enormous straw hat sheltered me from the sun’s withering rays, for it was a brilliant summer day. Mary wore faded farmettes and allowed her auburn hair to fall freely about her slender shoulders in a jaunty careless manner. I smile, remembering the way I gazed at her and exclaimed: “Mommy, Mary’s hair is burning!” And she laughed softly; for it really shone like a mass of unrully fire that was impossible to extinguish. Only in the shade did it recede to a darker hue, like a fading light about to go out. We walked over the hills and meadows; Mary with a brown straw basket intended for the apples; and I with a long misshapen rod. We would stop at intervals to pick blueberries that grew in clusters in various sections of the countryside. We ate some of the red ones just out of curiousity. We arrived at a stream of water; we quenched our parched throats, drinking heartily of the cool fluid. As we sat in the shade of the arching elm, I remember how the sun reflected gold and emerald specks upon the mirrorlike water; and everything seemed tranquil and quiet. “Mary,” I suggested, “let’s take off our shoes, and shall we wade?” The question was no sooner asked, when we hurled our shoes in the grass; for we were both uncomfortably warm, and giggled with glee at the shoothing coolness of the water. She cautioned me not to walk too far. But children never heed and dare to disobey. I wandered a short distance up the stream. I lost my balance on a slippery moss-covered rock and fell into the water. I still can’t tell exactly how it happened; but as I fell, I gashed my left leg on a jagged rock. The clear water, now grown muddy through disturbance, turned crimson with the rapid flow of my blood. I screamed hysterically while Mary tried in vain to console me. She carried me out of the water, examined the gash and applied a rudely improvised tourniquet, and bandaged it with her handkerchief to the best of her ability. The sight of blood never frightened her. She did not go into hysterics at the sight of it, but she was not ironic or without feeling. “Don’t cry, Janie, dear,” she comforted me. “It will heal, for Mary fixed it.” I leaned on her arm for support the entire way to the farm, where Uncle Damon called Dr. Johns, who administered to the incision. So Cousin Stan helped Mary pick the apples; we had our apple pie; and my foot healed in about a month or so. When Ronnie had the measles, the doctor ordered us to keep away from the sick room;« but Mary would steal in and tell him fantastic tales of fairies and princesses; only to be ordered out indignantly by mother. She liked to console the ill and unhappy in her own gentle way. After Ronnie recovered, we both contacted the measles and were put to bed for a week or so. Mary was strong physically and recovered before I did. While in bed, she would still amuse me with tales and did small favors that remain a cherished part of my childhood. When Aunt Ella passed away from heart ailment, Mary was there. She was thirteen then. She stood by her bed in the stuffy sick room and touched Aunt Ella’s rigid cold hand. “How strange,” she said, “and only a few minutes before she passed away, she held my hand Verhov ay Journal A Happy New Year to everybody—and thanks for those lovely cards from Jolán “Ferret” Lucas of Dearborn, Mich., Jos. Taylor of Buffalo, N. Y., Chas. Smith of Amherst, Ohio and A. Nyers, Pittsburgh, Penna. Did everybody have a good New Year’s Eve? I never dreamt that I was such an excellent warbler. Hope my voice don’t change for the 1945 celebration. Apparently, the membership forgot about our Christmas party; but nevertheless, those who were there really enjoyed themselves. We even played a game. John J. Balazs came down; but he had to leave, and we were really sorry that he couldn’t stay, because we would have celebrated with him. The reason—well, he is a U. S. Army selectee and he’s going Jan. 6th, 1944, to Fort Hayes, Ohio. Yep, Johnny was always a good supporter of the Verhovay. Another good 366th member and in the Armed Forces is Michael Valand, who is located in the British Isle—London, England. Let’s offer a prayer for our boys over there, on these momentous occasions that are to come, Please? The only thing missing at the Christmas Party was a mistletoe. Really, we Clevelanders—are —so bashful. We think that Mr. Joseph Szatay will make a fine President of Branch No. 14; and Frank Szabó an excellent Vice-President; both are aggressive men and things are going to hum from now on. As winter approaches, fire losses soar upward, indicating that faulty heatinginstallations are a prime factor in causing many dangerous fires. In order to avoid trouble with heating equipment, these are recommendations and precautions for everyone who operates a stove or furnace. First, the unit should be cleaned thoroughly every year and kept in good repair. In checking equipment, look for worn, broken or rusted parts and replace them. This check-up should include an inspection of smokepipes which may have become rusty or sagging. Any holes or open joints are dangerous, as sparks may fly out and ignite burnable material. If smokepipes are in poor condition, new ones should be installed and that they be placed at a safe distance from combustibles, or that such materials be protected with sheet asbestos or in hers.” Life and death puzzled her greatly; but she had fear for neither; nor did she evade any obstacle that crossed her path. She carried on right to the end; caring for the sick and wounded without a selfish thought for We have tried to convey a message to the home—that the bowling alleys should be cleaned at least four times a week, not a year. Rita Marie Karnya came to the Christmas party and she fell asleep. She’s five months old. We saw Charles Moses New Year’s Eve at Verhovay Hall celebrating. He’s really a great fellow, and he’s located at Great Lakes, Illinois. We are waiting for our first meeting of the year so that we can give our new President, Joseph Nagy, the works. Yep! he expects it. We heard that Ed Torda, former President, was down for induction, but at this writing we have nothing definite as to how he came out. Agnes Nemeth’s brother, Barney Nemeth, was home over the holidays. He expects to go overseas. A Vote of Thanks was voted Mr. Edward Torda and his wife, Katherine, for the fine work they did in sending out the Christmas packages for our boys and girls in the Armed Forces. They deserve it. Yep! I found out our editor is from Indiana. At least, let me wish Mr. Cabo well. May he return to good health and the Verhovay in the very near future. Mr. Albert Karl, who was elected Manager of Branch No. 14, really deserved this office for he has worked hard in the past and will do so in the future. We hope to have more in the next column. So Adios. — J. J. metal with an air space between it and the material to be protected. Chimneys also should be checked once a year. Clean out the soot and look for cracks and holes through which sparks might escape. Additional precautions are: Place hot ashes in metal containers instead of wood or cardboard cartons; be sure papers and rubbish are at a safe distance from the heating plant; do not permit accumulations. Everyone should recognize the need of special efforts in this wartime winter to conserve fuel and avoid preventable fires. Heating plant fires sweep with incredible speed through the heart of a house, often trapping and bringing swift death in the middle of the night to sleeping occupants. Now is the time to avoid this tragic fate in your home—before it is too lata. herself. No, she was not brave. She was merely being “American” in her own way. I smile sadly, but will not shed tears, for I still hear her clear childish voice of years ago: “Don’t cry, Janie, dear. It will heal for Mary fixed it." Are You Just Waiting? ’Tis a warm, autumn evening; When the moon is in the sky; Tioo lovers stand together, Saying their last good-bye. “Don’t weep,” he softly whispered, “I’ll be back some day.” But she knew it ivould be different, For he was going far away. There are many sweethearts crying, While they say their last good-bye; There are many mothers waiting, Waiting with a tearful eye. They’re waiting for the day to come When there will be no more good-byes; They’re waiting for the tomorrow When there will be no tear-filled eyes. It takes a lot of courage To fight against the foe; It takes the ammunition That costs a lot of dough. Our boys will do the fighting; They suffer with the pains; We supply their ammunition, Their tanks and guns and planes. Dig deep into your pockets And give them all you can; For sacrifice will win the war, With the help of every man. Are you just waiting for that day To come, of no more good-byes? Do all you can to bring that morrow When there will be no tear-filled eyes. Do your share; use your money, To buy all the bonds you can; For sacrifice will win the war, With the help of every man. —EDYTHE ANN OROSZ, Age 17, Painesville, Ohio Death in the Night
