War Torn Love (24 page)

CHAPTER NINE

          
     
“Concerns of Hitler’s growing power”
             

             
The first week or so following coming back from our what had to be a truly amazing, quite unbelievable honeymoon, my eyes were certainly opened about life. Because of the new experiences between Abram and I.  It was a bit odd atmosphere in the house - what I mean to say, I now felt quite uncomfortable to be able to demonstrating this new exciting affection directed towards my husband, in front of my parents. I was always worried what they were thinking of me if I were to get overly affectionate, like kissing, but more importantly, I wondered what they were thinking if we were to make love.

             
The day we returned home. Not wasting anytime, we got most of my husband’s belonging all moved into my parent’s home - more importantly, into my bedroom, which I now shared with him. No I mean our bedroom, I was forced to rearrange the room to be accommodating, and make room for his things. I could not believe it.  I think how many years I have lived so close proximity to him, watched from my bedroom window, gazing at him at his bedroom window, and now he was here.

             
Some of his things we left at his parents’ home, at least until we were able to move into our own home. We just did not have the room. 

             
What was unusual was Poppa’s attitude towards Abram and
it
had completely changed after we had married. He was no longer concerned how close affectionately I got to my husband. It wasn’t Poppa, or Momma that were treating me badly, no quite the contrary to that, no I would have to say they just so happen were true gems though the whole transition.  I suppose I was the one that was being prudently uptight. With the whole idea of having my husband living with us, I guess I had Poppa morality drilled into me a little too much, for too many years. I guess part of it was I just was not used to having a husband with me, not just yet. I was discovering being married was a lot of work, it involved thinking of someone else, other than just you when making decisions, sharing everything, including my bed, and my body. The intimate closeness, and now the main man in my life was not father, but my husband. And I loved everything about it, I loved having his scent on me. I loved his warmth on a cold night. Waking up and having him at my side was amazing.

             
Being newlyweds,
newlyweds like
to do certain activities, so when it came to each night, when we tried making love to each other, we had to be quite. As well as some mornings, it was odd it was proving we couldn’t get enough of one another. I discovered what a powerful drug being exposed to sex and intimacy could be on me. We had to be as quite as we possibly could as we made love, which was quite easier said than done. When the walls to the house are paper thin, the bed ends up squeaking horribly when performing this activity, whenever we got going, in a wonderful rhythm to the whole thing. And now that I am truly enjoying myself just like Marym said I would, when
we are going at it, it turns out, I’m a very vocal moaner, unable to control it. Sometimes in fact I am quite boisterous. I could not stop myself. I had to try remedying to desperate measures to quail my sounds, using a pillow. But then I need to breathe, so it is kind of a wash. It only remotely worked. A month into our budding marriage, and we had sex daily. I had been told as the marriage goes on through the years that we will be doing it less and less. I just knew my parents could hear the two of us, - how could you not, yet while in the thralls of it, we just couldn’t
stop
ourselves
we just couldn’t stop ourselves. I know this because I had heard my own parents in the act and I, or my sister did not dare say a thing. It was embarrassing the first time we tried having sex in our bed, what a rude surprise when the headboard unexpectedly began to bang against the wall right next door to my parents bedroom. The two of us stopped immediately. Oh my gosh we were so mortified, afraid they had heard us, we hid under the covers and laughed together, deciding it prudent that was enough of that for the night. The next morning we got dressed and then nervously came down stairs together - we did not know what we would be facing as we headed into the kitchen. Funny thing was neither one
of my
parents said a thing about it, although they did do a lot of smiling when they did see us in the mornings.  Poppa looked up from reading the morning newspaper, pushed up his reading glasses, cleared his throat, “So when are you two going to make your mother and I grandparents once more? I do love being a grandparent, just a penny for your thought!”

             
That was my Poppa’s settle way of letting us knowing they had in fact heard us from the night before,
because I had began to notice a particular pattern in the mornings, he tended to only be making these types of statements, when we had been extra thunderous from the night before. Somehow even knowing they could hear us,
it
did not stop us.

             
We tried to get our lives back to a new
normal
that we could be comfortable with. One change for me was, I took on the additional chore of going and attending to the farm animals, and feed or, them twice a day. In the morning before I
went to
work at the store, then after work. I also
increased
my hours, seeking to help-out at the store more than I have in the past, since my darling sister Marym gave birth to the beautiful baby girl, a week ago. I needed to try covering for her as best I could. For the time being, I was to fill her shoes, though she was a much better seamstress then I could have dream of being.

             
Like much of Europe, we were all starting to grow distraught Hitler’s and his growing influence and power, and his power of persuasion on the masses. He had gotten away with a lot with less than the punishment we expected, marching and extending borders, and building up the largest military in all of Europe.  If that was not dangerous enough, no one country seemed inclined to stop him. When they still had the chance to stop his land grabbing before he ramped up his war machine even more, they sat back. I’ve thought about this in all the
intervening
years, but I couldn’t work it out. 
I heard
a lot about it daily. 

             
Poppa and my new father-in-law debated this topic with all the other Jewish men, who would all congregate in the store. The store proved to be a gathering place, even
more as this all had been developing. Though I was generally to be found in the backroom of the store, where we actually made the suits.  I could still hear them all chatting. Especially when it would turn particularly heated; sometimes voices would pour out through the partially open door.

             
Poppa has grown to loathe Adolph Hitler - the danger of this man, and because of his new policies directed against Jewish population. The family’s big contract over in Germany was cancelled
, even
though Poppa had such big plans. This had cost him a lot of money that he had spent ramping up. I could see how this distressed him, the concerned in his face, but he tried his best not to fret the rest of us. When these hot-blooded Jewish men - Poppa’s friends - would get thunderous, Momma did her best to
distract
me.

             
“Sweetie just stop thinking about all of that – they’re all just blowing a bunch of hot air, it’s a bunch of hooey! However, one thing you should as well learn about men, this sort of thing is very therapeutic. Trust me I have been listening to this garbage for years, I do not even hear it anymore. I will tell you having your sister, and you, contact with other females to talk with while working has made it so much easier on me. I actually now look forward coming into work.” 

             
“Thanks Momma!”

             
Then I began talking about certain fundamentals in marriage with Momma. I had been curious about a few issues - I wanted to be sure I was handling things right with
Abram. As I have gotten older, I am finding it much easier to come to talk to her about personal topics - female issues I could never talk to Poppa about. I realized just how much she really knews, and how much more life she had the opportunity of living. I discovered I did not know nearly as much as I had thought - when I shared with her about what I was going through, she too had at some point in her own life experienced the same. I was surprised when I heard this. Momma was such a wonderful listener, and a thoughtfully sympathetic natured woman.
I ended up listening to all these men talk for months, usually on Wednesdays.  Eventually I too stopped listening to their hot air, tuning them out. Sometimes I received a treat when out of the blue, Momma would start singing - she had such a pretty voice. When she was younger, she sang a lot.  When I was little and could not get to sleep, she would
soothe me
with a lullaby.

             
Late September arrived, and lucky for us it was unseasonably warmer than usual. It was harvest time, Abram was in a real pickle, and needed all the assistance he could get to conduct a successful harvest. It was now mid-September and we had to bring in what surely was surely going to be the first of what I hoped to be successful bumper crops. But Abram had overextended himself. See it was not just our own crops that had to be harvested, he also had to harvest the farmer’s crops…first. We had to start before first light; he started at the farmer’s fields, I at our farm. Then the two of us worked every day until long past dark trying to not waste a single minute. My hands not use to this sort of physical demands being put on them. Because of all this manual labor, I had developed several
blisters; I had one on each palm of my hands, and a combined of six of my fingers, that was not to mention the cuts. My muscles ached, but I was not about to complain. It would have help if we had a tractor, but we could not afford such luxury. When it was not looking so good, God bless him, Abram was so liked in the community; we had a few volunteers come help us out for a couple of days. Out of there kindness, they did as The Lord would expect of them - these people were as poor as we were, in turn we donated back ten percent of what they picked back to them, for helping us. To them that was as good as money. We also set aside enough of our crop to feed us - and our entire families including our in-laws, and my sister and her family - through the long cold difficult winter months that lay ahead of us.  I hoped that gathering enough straw put away in the barn would provide for all our animals on our farm, and then what was left, we sold off a at the farmers market in Warsaw to fetch a better price.  We managed to have a $400.00 profit - not including the
seed-
money for next year’s planting. We were sitting pretty well.

             
Once the crops were safely harvested for the year, we could finally take a small breather, in the evening. Abram was freed up with a bit more time on his hands. Other than training for his fights, and a couple hours a day working for the farmer, he was free. So he and
a friend
decided to distill vodka from potatoes he used his father’s recipe for the vodka. It was not long before the first batch was brewed. He was so dedicated - he was willing to do anything, to get us enough money to build our new home. He was a very bright and hard working guy. His mind was always racing.

             
Since the crops were harvested, I returned to work at the store. In my absence, work had piled up. One night after I was working late at the store - later than everyone else.
Which was proving to be every night it would seem?
I had to have a suit done by tomorrow. I came home around nine pm. I had been at the store since seven this morning. So here I was tired, just wanting to get a quick bite, and go to bed, but I unexpectedly found my living room was invaded, full of at least ten men, and as soon as I opened up the front door, I was blasted by an unexpectedly thick cloud of cigar smoke. Men I have known all my life, there was two particular men in the room I had no idea who exactly they were. I do not think that I cared -they too were smoking Poppa’s cigars, and
drinking Abram’s
latest batch of vodka. I
walked through
the front door, saying a few choice words under my breath.