Dear
Hans,
You
don’t know me but I got your name from a list my teacher gave us. He’s making
us have pen pals, so I was wondering if you’d write me now and then. It’s for a
grade so maybe just a couple of letters or so.
My name
is Danny McClain and I live in
Chicago
,
Illinois
in the
United
States
.
Chicago
’s a
real big city. It’s always windy here because we’re right by
Lake
Michigan
which is more like the ocean than a lake. It’s
huge. We have a football team called the Bears and a couple of baseball teams—the
Cubs and the White Sox. I’m a big Cubs fan, and sometimes I go to Wrigley Field
with my brother to watch them play. That’s my favorite thing to do.
I live
on the south side of
Chicago
with
my mom and dad and my big brother Joey. My dad has his own business delivering
movie reels to theaters. Have you ever seen a movie? My mom is real nice and
she cooks really good food. She also sings in the church choir. My brother Joey
is two years older than me. He’s real funny. Everybody loves him.
I don’t
know much about The
Netherlands
. How
come it’s also called
Holland
? And
what’s with all those windmills? Do you have one? What language do you speak? I
sure hope you can read this or my grade is in the toilet.
I hope
you write me back. In
English
.
Danny McClain
Danny smiled,
thinking back on that first letter he’d written. He never expected to hear back
from the Dutch kid named Hans. Then one day, about three or four weeks later,
he got a letter from The Netherlands addressed to him, with a strange stamp and
all. It had surprised him how excited he was to get that first letter. And to
his great relief, it was written in English.
Dear
Danny,
Thank
you very much for your letter. I would be happy to be your pen pal. Our teacher
also submitted our names to an international pen pal club, and I was very
afraid I’d get stuck writing a girl.
I
looked up
America
on a map in our
classroom. The
United States
is
very big compared to my country. I found
Chicago
on
that map and the big lake you mentioned. Do you ice skate on your lake? In
Holland
,
everyone skates in the winter. It’s
my
favorite thing to do. I do not
know much about baseball and football. Maybe you can tell me about them.
I live
in a small town named
Utrecht
(not
far from
The Hague
) with my mother,
father, and sister, Anya. My father is a pastor so we live in the parsonage
beside the church. He grew up in
England
, so we
speak both Dutch and English in our home, and we’re learning German at school.
You
asked why we call our country by two names. There are twelve provinces in our
country.
North Holland
and
South
Holland
are two of them, located on the west coast
where most of our ports are found. Our larger cities are found there as well—
Amsterdam
, The
Hague, and
Rotterdam
. That area is called
Holland
while
the rest of the country is called The
Netherlands
. (“Nether”
means below which makes sense because more than 2/3 of our country is below sea
level.) What’s strange is that most Dutch people keep the distinction, calling
their country The
Netherlands
. It’s
the outsiders and foreigners who lump us all together and call it
Holland
.
Now I
must ask you. Why do some people call your country
America
and others
call it the
United States
?
Holland
is not like the other countries in Europe, so we do not take part in their
wars. It’s a good thing, because there are many struggles in countries near us.
I hope
you will write again.
Hans
Danny leafed
through the many envelopes he kept stored in the old cigar box. To think he’d
dreaded writing that first letter. Now, less than a year later, Hans had practically
become his best friend. Page after page, he’d write his new friend, sharing
everything from the silliest thoughts to his deepest concerns. He always looked
forward to hearing back from Hans. During the months at school, he always checked
to see if a letter had come when he got home. Mom always placed the familiar
envelopes on his pillow. Sometimes he’d get two letters a week, but most of the
time just one.
And now,
here he was—after
midnight
, unable to sleep, sharing this
latest family turmoil with his Dutch friend. He took out a sheet of notebook
paper and started writing.
Dear
Hans,
I wish
you lived just down the street. Even though it’s really late, I’d sneak out and
come knock on your window to tell you what happened. Today, Joey graduated. I’d
never been to a graduation ceremony before. It was boring at times, with so
many students walking across the stage to receive their diplomas. And then at
last, my brother made that walk. He was dressed like the others in a black cap
and gown, but as he approached the principal to receive his diploma, he stuck
his arms out and acted as if he was flying! The gown billowed around him and
everyone laughed. Well, everyone except my dad. Then once he shook the
principal’s hand and took his diploma, he turned to the audience and gave the
grandest bow you’ve ever seen. Everyone loves Joey, so they all applauded and
cheered. It was hilarious!
Unfortunately,
when we sat down for dinner this evening, Dad was really mad about the whole
thing. Then, he didn’t ask—he
told
Joey that he expected him to start working
for him tonight. Mom tried to convince Dad that Joey should get to celebrate
with his friends, but Dad wouldn’t listen. Joey got mad and left the house
which only made Dad madder.
But
that’s not the worst of it. After we all went to bed, Joey packed his bags and
left. He wrote a note saying he’d already enlisted in the Navy, and he was
leaving to report for duty. I couldn’t believe it! Dad’s yelling woke me up,
then Mom came in and told me what had happened. He’s been quiet ever since. For
some reason, that’s even worse—him being quiet like that. I’ve told you before that
my dad can be a real pain. But being so quiet these last few hours? It really
worries me.
I can’t
believe Joey’s gone. But at the same time, I’m real proud of him. I just hope
he writes or calls me. I’m sure gonna miss him.
Your friend,
Danny
2
August 1938
Danny wiped
his brow with his bandana, wishing he was done for the day. He’d already mowed five
lawns and had one more to go before he could head home. Just then, Mrs.
Zankowski stepped out on the back porch and waved at him. She held up a mason
jar filled with lemonade and ice. Danny stuffed the bandana in his pocket and
walked across the fresh-cut grass.
“Awful
hot this afternoon, Danny. I thought you could use something ice cold to drink.”
He took
the glass from her. “Thanks, Mrs. Z. I sure appreciate it.” He took a sip,
trying hard not to gulp it down in one swallow. “That’s real good lemonade.
Thanks.”
She sat
down on her porch swing. “Any news from your brother?”
“Yes,
ma’am. We had a letter just yesterday. Joey’s doing fine. He finished boot
camp. He was kinda disappointed—he was hoping to make it into aviation
training, but he didn’t pass some of the tests. But you know Joey. He’ll make
the best of it. Said they’re sending him to
Norfolk
,
Virginia
for
some kind of training.”
His
neighbor smiled as she fanned herself with a magazine. “Well, Joey never did take
his studies too seriously, but I’m sorry he didn’t get to be a pilot if that’s
what he wanted. Then again, I can’t imagine that brother of yours up there
flying an airplane. Good heavens, what a scary thought!”
Danny laughed
with her as he wiped the sweat off his neck. “I see your point.”
“But good
for him joining up to serve our country. You and your parents must be so proud
of him. That brother of yours about drove me crazy with all his antics. Never
could keep a straight face when he was in my classroom. But he kept things
interesting, that’s for sure.” She shaded her eyes with the magazine and looked
up in the sky. “Lord have mercy, Danny. What I’d give to see him toe the line
for his superiors in the Navy. That would be a sight to behold, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,
ma’am, it would.” He took another drink remembering how much Joey liked Mrs.
Zankowski. She taught history at
Calumet
High
School
.
Everyone loved her classes because she always made history interesting and fun.
Danny hoped he’d be assigned to one of her classes before he graduated.
She
stood up. “Well, you be sure and tell him hello for me next time you write him,
okay? I’m mighty proud of him for following his dream.” She reached into her
apron pocket and handed him two neatly folded dollar bills. “Thank you, Danny.
You always do a real nice job.”
“Thanks.
I’ll see you next week.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, that reminds me—next week
I’ll be mowing on Saturday instead of Friday. I’ve got tickets for the Cubs
game on Friday.”
“Good
for you! Great season so far, isn’t it?”
“We’re
going all the way this year. I can feel it!”
“I hope
you’re right. Well, we’ll see you next Saturday then. Have a good week.”
“You
too, Mrs. Z.”
Danny
finished the backyard, swept the patio and front sidewalks, then headed out for
his next lawn, dragging his mower behind him. School would be starting in a few
weeks and his income would slow way down. He’d already talked to Mr. Chaney
about helping out after school at his grocery store. He liked the old guy and
looked forward to working for him.
As he
mowed the Smithson’s lawn, back and forth across their broad front yard, he
couldn’t help thinking about his dad. Danny had avoided him as much as possible
over the course of the summer. Ever since Joey left, Dad had grown more quiet
with each passing day. He’d grumble and growl if something didn’t go his way,
but mostly he was just quiet.
Too
quiet. It made Danny and his mother
uneasy, though they both welcomed the silent meal times.
After
Joey’s first letter, they learned to keep quiet about the news they’d read.
Danny had tried to share a funny story his brother had written—something about
a prank someone in his unit had played on a bunkmate. Dad had slowly placed his
knife and fork on his plate, then folded his hands. Looking back and forth
between them, he said, “There will be no discussion about Joey at this table.
Is that understood?”
Danny had
stared into his father’s tired, bloodshot eyes, then looked at Mom. Her head
was bowed as she seemed to study her plate, not saying a word. She just sat
there with a bite of meatloaf on her fork. Danny looked back to see Dad’s
reaction.
“I
said, is that understood?”
“Yes,
sir,” Danny croaked. Mom nodded her head.
From
that moment on, they never mentioned Joey again at the dinner table. Instead,
Danny and his mother found stolen moments to talk about Joey’s letters when his
dad was out of the house. Sometimes it meant waiting until he left late at
night on his film routes. Then they’d sit at the kitchen table and read the
letter together, even though they’d both read it separately when it first
arrived. He hated having to hide the fact he was interested in his brother’s
news. But even more troubling was the silence that so often filled their home.
Danny quickly
finished his last lawn for the day, collected his pay from Mr. Smithson, and
hurried home. He stopped first in the garage, grabbing the broom to sweep the
remaining blades of grass off the old mower, then stepped out of his filthy
shoes. He took the back steps two at a time and found his mother snapping beans
on the back porch.
“How
was your afternoon? Get all your yards done?”
He
leaned over, planting a noisy kiss on her cheek. “Sure did. And for a change,
they all paid me today.” He dug the bills out of his pocket and waved them at
her. “I need to make another deposit.”
“Good
for you, son. Why, at the rate you’re going, you’ll own that bank one of these
days.”
“Not
hardly. Hey, did I get any mail today?”
Mom
smiled. “Letter from Hans on your pillow.”
“Anything
from Joey?”
“No,”
she said, her voice dropping a notch, “but we can read yesterday’s letter again
if you’d like. Your father’s leaving early tonight.” She winked at him and
patted her pocket.
“Sounds
good. I’m gonna go wash up then read my letter from Hans.”
“Dinner’s
in about an hour.”
Ten
minutes later, Danny got dressed after his shower and tossed his dirty clothes
in the hamper. He reached for Hans’ letter, then stretched out on his bed to
read it.
Dear
Danny,
It is
hard for me to imagine such temperatures as you have in
Chicago
! Today
it is 19.1° C. here. I believe that is 66.4° F. Much cooler than your 99°!
Today I had to help my sister Anya fix her bicycle. Everyone rides bicycles in The
Netherlands
, as I
told you before. And most everyone takes very good care of their bicycles
because we have to depend on them. But my little Anya (she’s only a year
younger than me but she’s really small for her age) is not so careful. And with
all our rain lately, her bicycle has rusted once again. She’s terribly hard on
things and always frustrated when things go wrong. I told you before what a
tomboy she is, but have I mentioned she’s also bull-headed? Such fights the two
of us have!
Congratulations
on the new job at the grocery store. I would think you would be very busy
working and going to school in the fall. Here, most everything is brought to us
so that we do not often need to go to the market. It’s considered an honor to
supply the local pastor with bread, vegetables, milk, and even meat from the
butcher. But this is also done for many other residents as well.
What
have you heard from Joey? Any news?
Everyone
here seems quite nervous. None of us believed Hitler could take
Austria
, yet
he did. We thought that
England
and
France
would step
up and try to stop him, but they have not. Our country always stays out of war,
but the news we hear is still troubling. It’s quite hard to understand all that
is happening.
I have
enclosed a picture of our family as you requested. This was taken by my cousin
Piet. The windmill behind us is not far from our home. It is called Mollen De
Ster (Star Windmill) and it is my favorite. This picture was taken when we had
a family picnic with Piet and his family. That is Anya standing to my left.
Mother was upset with her for scraping her knee while chasing Piet through a
tulip field.
By the
time you get this letter, perhaps your letter and picture will arrive here. I
wonder if you look as I imagine you to look!
Your friend,
Hans
Danny carefully
unwrapped the tissue paper folded around the photograph. He too had been
curious what his Dutch friend looked like. It was strange to be good friends
with someone he’d never met. Immediately he spotted Hans standing next to his
father. Danny smiled seeing his picture for the first time. Hans had a thick
head of blond hair brushed straight back. His face was oval, his chin squared a
bit. He assumed Hans’ eyes were blue, though he couldn’t be sure in the gray tones
of the photograph. He had a friendly smile, just as he’d expected. Now he had a
face to go with the name.
Hans
looked a good deal like his father, except for the round glasses perched on his
father’s nose and the bushy mustache below it. He too had a friendly smile.
Danny wondered what it was like to hear him preach. Was he soft spoken and
kind, or one of those who shouted his sermons? Then he looked at Hans’ mother,
her face quite beautiful despite the firm set of her lips. Danny recognized
that expression, so similar to his own mother’s when she got upset. And then he
glanced at Anya standing there with her arms folded across her chest and a
pronounced scowl on her face. Sure enough, her pant leg was stained and dirty
at the knee. Two messy pigtails hung down three or four inches below her
shoulders. Danny chuckled, having no trouble imagining the girl’s mischief.
He
studied the windmill in the background, its four outstretched wings lending an
air of majesty to the photograph. Hans had explained the important role of the
windmolen
helping pump water from
Holland
’s precious land to prevent
flooding. The Dutch had a long history battling their below-sea level ground,
and the windmills stood at the forefront of those battles, dating all the way back
to the thirteenth century—a fact Danny had included in his latest report for
Mr. Chesterton’s class.
He
leaned his head back on the pillow, crossing one arm over his head. As he often
did after reading Hans’ letters, he tried to picture himself in their world. He
wondered what it would be like to live in a land dotted with those big
windmills. He wondered what it must look like to see everyone riding bicycles
to and from their destinations. And he wondered what it felt like to have that
Hitler nut just across the border breathing down your neck. Hans said everyone
in The Netherlands was nervous about the Germans.
Danny’s
only worry was if the Cubs would make it to the World Series.
How
different, their worlds.