The Walking People (27 page)

That's all the news from here. I'll write again when we're in the new apartment.

Love you, Miss you,
Greta

 

P.S. These few things are from Johanna and me both. Tom, these gloves are not for mending walls! Mammy, I hope you like the dress. I know I complain about the price of things at work but I got these with my discount and were a great bargain.

P.P.S. Why does the thing I said about Lucy Sullivan look awful when it's written down but doesn't sound so bad when we say it out loud?

 

January 13, 1964

Mr. Dermot Ward
c/o Main Post Office
Galway City
Co. Galway
Ireland

 

Da —

If you haven't left Galway already I know you're leaving soon and heading to Munster where there's little chance of a letter finding you. We are in a better situation than when I last wrote and now it's not money I need but a little advice. Johanna was making great wages at
a temporary job we were sure would turn into something permanent. She's not showing yet but mentioned on the job that she was expecting a baby thinking that a little sympathy would go a long way, but it went in the opposite direction and they showed her the door. I thought they only cared about things like that in Ireland. We can get by thanks to a few other things that have gone our way, but that doesn't help Johanna's mood which has been bad for almost three months now. I understand when she's feeling sick, and when she's worried, but it's something else and I don't know what to say to her. Since the ship we have been like brother and sister and that's all I'll say on that subject as Greta is taking down this letter. I've gotten to know a few men at work but I don't like saying much about my situation and don't want to ask about the mood their women were in while expecting as they'll wonder why I'm asking and no one knows a thing about Johanna or if they do they think she's my sister. Greta, who knows her best, doesn't know what to say to her either. Sometimes she's stone quiet, and sometimes she's mad as a March hare. Mam, God rest her, knew about these things and I wonder if she passed much of it on to you.

Please write back. I'm at a new address. Check the front of the envelope.

Your son,
Michael Ward

 

February 2, 1964

Mrs. Lily Cahill and Mr. Tom Cahill
Ballyroan
Conch
Co. Galway
Ireland

 

Mammy and Tom,

We're in the new apartment and all is well. We figured out quickly that some of the people who live here would bang on the door with a different problem every day and have us running up and down the
stairs for every little thing. Most of the people are lovely and have stopped by to welcome us. On our floor there's two older women whose husbands have died and live on their own, and one young couple with two small boys. The young couple is from Hamburg in Germany and their two boys have their accent. The mother of the boys says they'll lose it once they go to school which will be a shame. Whenever I hear young children with accents or speaking another language I think how smart they must be, though of course it's all they know and I might sound smart to them just speaking English though I doubt it.

Mammy, you mentioned in your last that Johanna doesn't write and all I can tell you is that she's busy with her job—she got hired on a permanent basis minding the old woman (hooray!)—and she knows I give you all the news. There is no need to be worried about her. You know Johanna, she's too busy soaking up the sights and sounds. If you remember she was never great at writing the boys either but would add a p.s. to my letters. She sends her love even if I forget to mention it.

About Mrs. O'Connor's niece who would like to visit New York. We'd love to have her stay with us but I'm afraid the next few months wouldn't work. We're all busy with our jobs and would have no time to show the poor girl around. We have to be careful, too, in case the owner wouldn't like us having guests. If she's just wanting to do a little sightseeing, maybe she could hold off for a little while and we'll see where we're at in a few months. Will Mrs. O'Connor be huffy about it do you think?

Tom, I'm sorry to say I can't say what New Yorkers think of the Beach Boys as we don't chat much with too many New Yorkers except the ones we work with and the ones I work with are all women and think the Beach Boys a bit boring. I know you don't like them either. I looked up a picture of Johnny Cash in the record shop and he's a bit rough looking just like you guessed. He has black hair and a longish nose and looks like you might see him footing turf as soon as you'd see him up on a stage.

Wish I had more news but every day is about the same. Send whatever news you have from home.

Love you and Miss you,
Greta

 

February 12, 1964

Michael Ward
222 East 84th Street
Apartment 1A
New York, New York 10028
United States of America

 

Michael,

Bitty is putting this down. Da got your letters but late. He said I can write if I want but hes deciding in his mind if he will or not. Did you steal the bicicle Michael? The
gardai
came and gave us grief and took Nora's Malachy into the station to ask questions and later I put 2 and 2 together that Malachy looks a bit like you with the hair and size of him. We had to stay at camp an extra week and you know how Da hates a delay anyway but even more when its one of us wrongly accused. You took it dint you? It was brand new unless they just said that to make it worse. In the end Da had to pay fifty quid to get Malachy.

It dosnt sound like you got too far away after all did you. Yes, New York City but living with your woman and her sister and a
gasúr
on the way. And you moved how many times since leaving us? Dosnt sound too different from camp. Da is heartsick over it though he wont say it and the purpose of this letter is to say dont write again because it makes him mental for a week and pure useless at the work he has to do and if he makes up his mind to write to you then after that you can send him another letter. Are you coming back to Ireland soon?

The babies are fine, fat, and strong.

Maeve

 

May 12, 1964

Johanna and Greta Cahill
Ward 222 East 84th Street
Apt. 1A
New York, New York 10028
U.S.A.

 

Dear Greta and Johanna,

Mammy is worried sick that she doesn't here from either of you. First Johanna, then Greta. Your last was a letter from Greta on 2 Feb. Did letters since then get lost in the post? Mammy says she's sent three and will hold off on a fourth until she heres from you and you know the price of an airmail stamp. It's just the two of us now and she's gotten so quiet it's like I'm by myself. Remember when Da first died and she wouldn't get dressed all day? It's a bit like that except once in a while she'll snap out of it and give me a great big speech about how it's wonderful you went, and went together, and are doing so well. There's such a thing as getting on in a new place but not forgetting the old place either, isn't there? Remember what it was like here when she didn't here from Jack or Padraic for a while? You being girls makes it worse.

I'm sorry to be so mean but it's only because we miss you and like to here. I go to the dances now and again but in a few years I'll be too old for them. Once Liam McGuinness stops going I'll be the oldest. He's closing in on thirty-seven and still brings the bottle within in his vest. Let's hope it doesn't get to that. There is a card game starting up at your old boss James Breen's inn and maybe I'll start going for the
craic.

If you write don't say a thing about this or else she'll think you were put up to it.

God Bless.
Tom

 

P.S. You'll never guess my good luck but John Gilroy left for Canada a month ago Wednesday and left a Ferguson record player behind for
his father to sell. Who did I run into but John Sr. at a dairy demo and he asked did I want it and wouldn't accept anything for it as he wouldn't know what price to ask and if he sold it he'd have to send the money to John Jr. who should have taken care of his business before he left.

 

June 2, 1964

Greta Cahill
222 East 84th Street
Apartment 1A
New York, NY 10028

 

Dear Greta,

Sorry to be so formal with a letter but I couldn't find your number, and then I remembered that last time Johanna was at the clinic for her checkup she mentioned you never hooked up your phone. I hope all is well in Yorkville.

I'm really writing to tell you that your mother called me this morning and I figured out fast that she knows nothing about Johanna's situation. She was calling from a shop in Conch, and honestly Greta, I could have cried for her because I could hear the worry in her voice, and I know how my own mother used to get when she worried. She has no idea how far Woodside is from the Upper East Side and wondered if she waited in the shop could I run up to get you and bring you back to my place. I told her I'd arrange to have one of you here next Saturday. Greta, please be here or send Johanna, because I don't like the position I'm in. I took the number of the shop and said I'd have you ring around 3:00 Irish time, so be here before 10: 00.

Speaking of Johanna, when I see her at the clinic she is nothing like the girl I met in Ballyroan. I realize she comes here because it's cheap and because it's where she first found out, but there are other places in the city that specialize in pregnant women's moods and bouts of depression and that kind of thing and I know there have been cases in the past where bad feeling gets a whole lot worse after the child is born.
She mentions Los Angeles and Chicago in a dreamy kind of way that makes me wonder if she realizes she's going to be a mother in eight weeks. I don't want to overstep my bounds, but she is very young, and I wonder if she and Michael have discussed all their options. I know she didn't want to hear anything about that other option we discussed back in November, but there are more for after the child is born. A lot of American couples would kill for an Irish baby and Johanna and Michael might even get a say in picking the parents. This has surely occurred to her, but I wonder since you are the one closest to her if you could feel out what she's thinking or if she's thinking at all. I hope your mother doesn't blame me for all of this happening.

Telling your mother would be a way to lighten the load for all of us, and—who knows?—she might have the perfect solution. Have you thought that it might be time to go back home? New York is wonderful, but it's not for everyone. Just make sure one or both of you are here at 10: 00
A.M.
on Saturday.

See you soon,
Shannon

 

June 4, 1964

Shannon O'Clery
39—28 61 st Street
Apt. 3D
Woodside, New York 11377

 

Shannon,

Thanks for your letter about Mother. I have to work all Saturday and Johanna won't go talk to her on the telephone. We fought about it all morning since getting your letter. She barely leaves the apartment except to go visiting with the woman who lives upstairs from us and who Michael says is a big drinker from the looks of the garbage she puts out and also we found her sleeping once in the 3rd floor hallway (she lives on the 2nd floor). Johanna talks to her more than she talks to us lately and I don't know why. Michael worries would Johanna ever
take a drink with the woman, but I think it's just company she's after that is not myself or Michael. I hope, anyhow. I sniff her when she comes home and never smelled anything off her and you told her that time at the clinic how bad that would be for the baby. I don't have hurt feelings for myself because I know how Johanna can be, but I feel sorry for Michael who thinks he's done something wrong when he's been nothing but good-natured throughout all of this. It's Johanna who should be talking to me about the baby, but instead it's Michael I sit down with at the end of each day and the two of us have to guess how she's feeling and how the baby is doing because she doesn't say. Michael and I are the ones who've started collecting clothes and nappies and she doesn't seem the least bit thankful for it. She's long stopped looking for work, though I guess she can't be blamed for that as no one would hire her in her condition. I've taken on as many shifts as I can and if the ones at home could see me when I'm working I think they'd barely recognize me. Sometimes I barely recognize myself when I'm firm with the women who want a discount, or how fast I can hurry up the aisle to check a price. I thought it would be harder doing a job in a place where no one knows me, but it's easier because I can always pretend to know exactly what I'm doing. The ones at home would know the truth straight away.

To Michael Johanna acts like he has nothing to do with the situation she's in and like it's none of his business what happens to her or the child at the end of July. He asked if he could go with her to the clinic and she said no thank you just the same as if he'd invited her to go for a walk. So then I had the idea to go to the public library, the two of us, and look up everything that she was learning from the nurses at the clinic. We looked on our own for a bit with no luck, but then a woman helped us find what we wanted. When we were leaving she wished us all the best and I realized she thought we were thinking about having a baby together. Michael got red in the face but I laughed for the first time since before we got this news.