told Miss Pauline. “Tell her they’re standing right outside with Ann Fay and all three of them are smiling up a rainbow.”
Junior Bledsoe could sure lie when he needed to. But I didn’t fault him for it. I knew he didn’t want my momma to worry.
I said, “Ask her does Bobby hate that iron lung?”
Junior passed the message on to Miss Pauline and waited for her to answer.
“He loves it!” said Junior, and I knew he was lying on my end too. “Your momma said it saved his life and he’s too weak to be jumping around anyhow. He sleeps a lot.”
Pretty soon Miss Pauline hung up the phone and shut the window. She motioned for Junior to come around to the back of the house. When he come back he had a stack of newspapers.
“Miss Pauline sent these,” he said. “They tell all about that emergency hospital. She says if you come every day she’ll give you the paper from the day before. Just get them off the back steps.” Junior held up one paper so as I could see it.
The headline said YANKS PUSH FOE BACK IN FRANCE. I reached for the paper. I could use some good news about the war—something to make me feel like Daddy could come home alive.
And I did want to read all about the polio hospital.
“Well, it’s not as good as talking to Momma,” I said. “But at least it’s something.” Then I seen a smaller headline, lower on the page: Boy, 12, Polio Patient, Dies at Camp Here. My heart sunk to my dusty red toes.
I knew some people died from polio, but seeing it like that right here in my hometown paper and knowing Bobby was in the same hospital put a new fear right through me.
Junior carried most of them papers until Ellie started up whining about being tired. Then he said, “Here, Ann Fay, you take the newspapers and I’ll carry her.” He stooped down and said, “Get on my back, Ellie.” And he carried her piggyback until Ida started asking when it was going to be her turn.
“When we get to that mailbox,” said Junior.
I thought how Miss Pauline was so scared of us and here was Junior letting my little sisters breathe in his hair. Catching polio didn’t seem to bother him a bit.
I hadn’t never really thought of it before, but I figured out right then and there what is the definition of a true friend—someone who knows you might be dangerous to be around and they stick by you anyhow.
9
Hickory Daily Record
July–August 1944
With Momma gone to the hospital, all her jobs fell on me. I figured that included writing to Daddy about Bobby. I didn’t want him worrying about us, but I knew he would want to know something as important as Bobby having polio.
So one day I finally sat down and wrote it straight out for him to see—although I tried to put a good face on it.
Dear Daddy,
We miss you something awful. I don’t know if you heard about the polio epidemic. It got so bad they shut down a camp and turned it into an emergency hospital in Hickory.
Well, everybody says what happened next was a pure miracle. In just three days they had a regular hospital with beds and doctors and nurses. If that hospital needs anything, it just puts out a call. The donations start pouring in like water.
The bad news is, Bobby is there. He collapsed one day while we was working in the garden. He seemed fine one minute, but the next thing I knew, he couldn’t move. Momma is there with him, so me and the girls are taking care of things around the house.
But don’t worry about Bobby. They have polio doctorsfrom all over the country working there—even a doctor from the president’s Warm Springs place. And smart people who study epidemics.
I read in the paper where Life magazine even come and took pictures of the hospital, but I don’t know when it will come out.
Junior looks in on us every day, and of course I’m being the man of the house just like you told me. You would be proud of the garden, even if it does have more weeds than you can shake a stick at.
If Bobby was here he would say, “Good
Junior Bledsoe could sure lie when he needed to. But I didn’t fault him for it. I knew he didn’t want my momma to worry.
I said, “Ask her does Bobby hate that iron lung?”
Junior passed the message on to Miss Pauline and waited for her to answer.
“He loves it!” said Junior, and I knew he was lying on my end too. “Your momma said it saved his life and he’s too weak to be jumping around anyhow. He sleeps a lot.”
Pretty soon Miss Pauline hung up the phone and shut the window. She motioned for Junior to come around to the back of the house. When he come back he had a stack of newspapers.
“Miss Pauline sent these,” he said. “They tell all about that emergency hospital. She says if you come every day she’ll give you the paper from the day before. Just get them off the back steps.” Junior held up one paper so as I could see it.
The headline said YANKS PUSH FOE BACK IN FRANCE. I reached for the paper. I could use some good news about the war—something to make me feel like Daddy could come home alive.
And I did want to read all about the polio hospital.
“Well, it’s not as good as talking to Momma,” I said. “But at least it’s something.” Then I seen a smaller headline, lower on the page: Boy, 12, Polio Patient, Dies at Camp Here. My heart sunk to my dusty red toes.
I knew some people died from polio, but seeing it like that right here in my hometown paper and knowing Bobby was in the same hospital put a new fear right through me.
Junior carried most of them papers until Ellie started up whining about being tired. Then he said, “Here, Ann Fay, you take the newspapers and I’ll carry her.” He stooped down and said, “Get on my back, Ellie.” And he carried her piggyback until Ida started asking when it was going to be her turn.
“When we get to that mailbox,” said Junior.
I thought how Miss Pauline was so scared of us and here was Junior letting my little sisters breathe in his hair. Catching polio didn’t seem to bother him a bit.
I hadn’t never really thought of it before, but I figured out right then and there what is the definition of a true friend—someone who knows you might be dangerous to be around and they stick by you anyhow.
9
Hickory Daily Record
July–August 1944
With Momma gone to the hospital, all her jobs fell on me. I figured that included writing to Daddy about Bobby. I didn’t want him worrying about us, but I knew he would want to know something as important as Bobby having polio.
So one day I finally sat down and wrote it straight out for him to see—although I tried to put a good face on it.
Dear Daddy,
We miss you something awful. I don’t know if you heard about the polio epidemic. It got so bad they shut down a camp and turned it into an emergency hospital in Hickory.
Well, everybody says what happened next was a pure miracle. In just three days they had a regular hospital with beds and doctors and nurses. If that hospital needs anything, it just puts out a call. The donations start pouring in like water.
The bad news is, Bobby is there. He collapsed one day while we was working in the garden. He seemed fine one minute, but the next thing I knew, he couldn’t move. Momma is there with him, so me and the girls are taking care of things around the house.
But don’t worry about Bobby. They have polio doctorsfrom all over the country working there—even a doctor from the president’s Warm Springs place. And smart people who study epidemics.
I read in the paper where Life magazine even come and took pictures of the hospital, but I don’t know when it will come out.
Junior looks in on us every day, and of course I’m being the man of the house just like you told me. You would be proud of the garden, even if it does have more weeds than you can shake a stick at.
If Bobby was here he would say, “Good
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