You Got Yourself a Boy, Part II (Conclusion)

November 1957

Another man wandered up to stand beside Bill as he stared at his son. “That your kid?”

Bill swallowed the lump in his throat. “My first. A boy.” 

He turned to the man. “Isn’t he something?”

The man smiled, showing off a black gap where his two front teeth used to hang out.  “He’s a fat one, that’s for sure.”

Bill stared at the man for a second and wondered if that comment should piss him off.  He turned back to his son. Red hair, miniature Michelin Man arms ending in chubby hands folded against round little pink cheeks. He laughed. “You’re right, he is fat.”

“That’s okay, though, means he’s healthy. Don’t want no skinny babies.” The man nodded his thanks as Bill handed him a cigar.

“Don’t mind if I do. Thanks.” He stuck the cigar in his shirt pocket and pointed at a bassinet kitty corner from Bill’s baby.  “That’un’s mine. Girl number five. Not as fat as your kid, but good and healthy.”

Turning away from the glass he smacked Bill on the shoulder. “You got yourself a boy, lucky you. Congratulations, man.” He ambled off down the hall.

“Yeah, thanks.  You too.” Bill raised his voice so the guy could hear as he walked away.

The man waved as he walked, turned the corner and disappeared.

He stood in front of the glass for a few more minutes, then motioned at the nurse. 

She nodded and placed the baby back in the bassinet. Stripping off her mask and apron, she walked to the inner door. A few minutes later she appeared, white uniform and cap as stiff as ever, beside Bill.

“Can I see my wife now?” He said, still staring at his son. “He’s so tiny.”

“He’s a beautiful little boy,” she said. “Red hair and blue eyes.”

“Thanks.” Bill turned and beamed a smile her way.

“Nice and healthy too.”

“Fat.”

The nurse’s eyes went wide. “No. That’s not what—”

Bill’s smile never wavered. “I know. I’m just kidding.”

She put a hand to her cheek and smiled. “Oh, good. I thought I may have offended you or something.”

“It would take a lot more than that to insult me.” Bill’s lopsided smile faded. “My wife?”

“Oh dear, yes, of course.” Smiling, she turned and started off down the hall in the same direction the gap-toothed father of five girls had gone. “Right this way.” She motioned behind her retreating back. “Follow me.”         

You Got Yourself a Boy, Part I

November 1957

Bill paced around the small, green and white room.  Back and forth, up and down.

Clair glanced up from the Popular Mechanics magazine in which his nose had been buried.  “Bill, you’re going to wear a hole in the carpeting.”

Bill stopped in his tracks and looked up.  His gazed into the distance like a man in a trance. His interlaced fingers whitened as he tightened his hands’ grip on each other. “What could be taking so long?”

“It’s a boy,” a white-clad nurse announced from the door of the waiting room.

Bill turned so fast he nearly lost his balance. The worry lines around his eyes relaxed as they widened and his mouth opened into an O, then stretched into a big smile. “A boy?”

He whirled around to all the people stuffed into the room. His and Lois’s immediate families, and Mark and Anna, all jumped up and stood shoulder-to-shoulder, all grinning like a pack of fools. 

“It’s a boy!” Bill yelled. Everybody surged forward and started talking at once. They pounded on his back and shoulders from every direction.  He laughed and nudged his way through the pack. “Thank you.  Clair, pass out the cigars, would you.” His eyes moistened and his smile beamed like the sun. “I’m going to go meet my boy.”  To the nurse, he said, “How’s my wife?”

“She’s just fine Mr. Schoppe.” The nurse spoke without turning. “Her labor was hard, but she came through like a real trouper. She’s a tough young woman.”

Relieved, Bill laughed. “You don’t even know the half of it.” He stopped and turned. 

A cheer went up. Grinning, he turned back. The nurse was gone.

Poking his head out the doorway, he looked to his left and then to his right. He spotted a white cap over a short bob of brown curls bouncing down the hallway. “There she is,” he muttered, hurrying to catch up.

He followed her through a set of double doors and stopped in front of a wall, the top half of which was glass. Behind the glass two rows of bassinets. Bill’s eyes glistened as he looked at the rows of babies. “Which one is mine?” he said, without turning.

The nurse said, “just one moment.” She walked down the hall and went in through a door.  A few agonizing minutes later she reappeared on the other side of the glass, masked, gloved and wrapped in a surgical gown. She picked her way between the bassinets and stopped at one right in front of where Bill stood with his nose centimeters away from the glass. She caught his eye and hers crinkled above the mask.

Bill pointed. “Is that him?”

She nodded and picked up the squirming bundle. She held him out like a doll on display. 

“Wow,” Bill said. His eyes watered and he dabbed at them with the rolled-up cuff of his denim shirt.

Final Letter, Part III (Postscripts)

August 13, 1962

Fairbanks, Alaska

P.S. Check with the insurance office and get a pink slip to come through Canada. Also, when you get ready to exchange your money don’t exchange it all because in Canada you gain money, exchanging back to ours you lose. Exchange about $100.00 to Canadian and if you need more you can get a little more exchanged. Also, I just found out it might be a good idea to have the car’s insurance policy, registration and maybe your birth certificate too.

You never know what they’ll ask for at the border. If you bring the 25-caliber pistol, you’d better send it to me or hide it real good and tell them at the border you don’t have a hand gun with you. Can you make room for my bow?

Hope this answers all the questions about the trip. By the way Honey, when you get on the Alcan at Dawson Creek the best speed to travel is between 50 -60. Can you pick up a couple of natural rubber inner tubes to carry along? They can be put inside tubeless tires and save a lot of trouble.

Sweetheart, knowing you, you’ll make the trip with flying colors.

Love and kisses,

Your husband,

Bill

P.S. Am sending you my St. Christopher medal to protect you on the way. Also sending my camera so you can take pictures on the way. You should get some good ones.

When you get to Dawson Creek take your time and enjoy the scenery and obey the signs on the Alcan after you leave D. Creek. Believe me, I know they mean what they say.

Love Always,

Bill