Aum Sindach zeowents ons soo een bät em Darp too trafe jintj ons Jungess scheen, seea scheen. Tüs wea aulewäaje besorjcht enn verejcht, enn de schwoare Oabeit vonn'e näachste Wäatj wea noch wiet auf. Wie kaume üt tjeenen Grund toop, bloos so omm een bät too puche enn äwadriewe, enn Bechteriete enn han enn wada, wann'et senne mußt, een bät too rauze. Ooda uck irjendeen Ooltnäsjen den Kopp too veneede. Oh joh, enn dann mußt wie ons noch zimlich foaken äwa de C.C.F'ers jachte enn woo kommunistisch dee Donnasch weare enn aus de Katholitje von St. Pierre aule onse tjristliche Tjinja fuatnehme wudde ooda mau de measchte. Enn donn mußt wie ons noch jachte aus Fraunz App von Lena enn de Vada aun ons eajnen Doft App wertjlich een tjliena Vada aun Syl Apps vonne Toronto Maple Leafs wea ooda noch dijchta Frindschauft aus daut weare, soo's maunche Lied Tüs säde.
Een Sindach em lohten Juli aus aul daut Jeräd een bät nohjejäwt haud, enn wie tjeenen Grund haude noch lenja too bliewe enn noch weenja Grund haude noh Hüs too gohne, kaum mett eemol een ütjeplajta jreena Voltjswoage aunjeduckat and wäa daut uck emma wea, he blost ons eene Woltj Stuff enne Uage enn piept ons de Uahre voll soo's een oola Furd. Donn hild'a stell, muak de Däah op enn donn kaum langsom een ajchta Schlodonz rütjedreit. He wea goot siene sass Schooh lang, druag een Cowboyhamd enn haud uck ajchte Cowboysteewle aun. Aus'a mett eemol doastund, docht een jieda, daut dis Gaust eajentlich bloß een Revolva bruckt, om em High Noon nenntoopausse. Hee wea een stolta Tjeadel, haud uck eenen Cowboyhoot opp: ahm sach'et seea jlei.
"Na, Goondach Jie aulatoop, etj sie Hauns!" säd'a, "enn sie den gaunzen Wajch üt Roosegoad jekohme omm mie jüne Mejalleberstaund too betjitje."
Wie lachte een bätje, soo's Jungess daut dann doohne, wann se von eenem rechtjen Expert een bätje meea vonne Früeswelt weete welle. Donn jintj Hauns äwaroasch, betjt sich enn siene Koah nenn, hold eene tjliene Buddel Tjoaschewhiskey äwadäl, enn nauhm een langen Schluck doarüt.
Een poah meea Jungess weare nü noch toojekohme omm sich een bätje opptoohoole, enn uck een poah Tjinja, boaft enn nieschierich.
Hauns frinteld noch emma aus'a tridj noh siene Koah jintj enn mett eene Jitoa enn een Mülschiera tridjkaum. Daut Harmoschtje stald hee opp een tjlienet Jeschnees omm sien Hauls enn tjlamd daut faust. Hauns tjlimpad een bät enn stemmd siene Jitoa enn, enn donn word'et gaunz stell. Mett eemol schreajch hee "YIPPIY AYE JOH" enn fong aun too sinje enn too späle enn wea enn eenem Nü aul medden em Konzert. Hee pompt mett'em rajchten Foot, enn donn jintj hee sien Harmoschtje too doak aus'a den Refrain von Red River Valley späld. Donn leet Hauns mett dem Volumen noh, muak de Uage too, enn kusst mau jrodentoo sien Harmoschtje enn plock de Saide vonn'e Jitoa soo zoat enn so saunft, enn hee wea väle Miele wiet auf enn siene Jedanke. Joh, Hauns head uck opp mett siene Hack Tackt too hoole; hee hoof aunstaut siene rajchte Tee opp enn leet dee han en häa weppe, soo lieseltjes, aus wann'a enn Tjoatj wea. Dee Tjinja kaume emma noda, enn de Mäatjess kaume uck dichtabie, enn haude aula Stearns enne Uage enn muake daut Mültje soo een bätje op. Donn späld Hauns Beautiful Brown Eyes enn aus hee eene Bleewuagje sach, endad hee de eene Zeil. You are my Sunshine wea sien näjchstet Leed enn doabie word Hauns, Jitoa enn Mülschiera aulatoop eent.
Hauns späld enn sung noch een poah Leeda, enn donn mett eemol säda: "Nü späl etj jünt noch `Muß i' denn' väa enn dann mott etj foahre. Morje mott wiet waste jedrascht woare. Oba etj sie wada tridj eea daut toofrisst." Hauns tjnippst sich aum Hoot, plintjad een bät, enn wajch wear'a.
Wie stunde enn wundade ons, waut pesseat wea. Een poah Minüte tridj weare Hauns siene Leeda soo's een Strom omm en derjch ons jerant, enn nü stund wie doa, enn weare mett eemol wada väl schwanda jeworde, enn de Welt väl ladja. Wie Jungess weare ons eenig, daut nü nuscht nich meea schaufe wudd nohdem Hauns sien Kulla Fiea, sootoosaje, omm ons jeschmäte haud, enn ons nü enn eene stelle Welt tridjleet. De Mäatjess trocke sich uck tridj, mett ähre Uage noch emma aum Horizont. De tjliene Jungess jinje toolatst; see wisste nü, woaromm se jeläwt enn jewacht haude, oba nü wear'et vebie.
Hauns enn etj troffe ons foakna aus wie aulatoop. Mie jintj dis Jung scheen: hee wißt väl meea, enn ahm fluag aules too. Waut'a nich vetalle wull ooda kunn, daut deede siene Leeda, siene Jitoa enn sien Harmoschtje. Uck wea Hauns too Frülied väl natta, joh soo natt, soo's etj daut niemols verhäa jeseehne ooda beläwt haud, büta enne Movies. Mie kaum soo väa, dissem Tjeadel Hauns sull eena noh-ope, dee kunn vleicht sogoa mett een reinet Jewesse een bätje sindje, wiels Gott opp siene Sied wea. Weens so docht etj, wann Hauns uck niemols säd aus'a irjendwoa eene Mejall "jerollt" haud oba etj wißt von de Oat, woo hee vonne Leew späld enn sung enn frinteld enn siene Leppe beletjt, daut Hauns enn siene Lomm opp väle Läwesrivasch jesunge haud.
Loht em August Aunfong de Feftjajoahre reet daut Läwe ons ütenaunda, oba nich eea Hauns mie den latzen Farzh von "From this Valley They say you are Leaving" uzhend fe mie sung enn späld. Den Owend, aus wie auleen weare, tjeem mie daut soo väa aus wann Hauns de Täne reete, oba etj vegaut soone Tjlienijtjeite aus hee too mie opp Plautdietsch säd: "Loht Die daut gootgohne. Enn etj woa de Mäatjess hinja Portage jreese, wann etj morje drasche foah, o.k.?" Donn jintj Hauns langsom auf, späld bieaun lieseltjess Jitoa enn sung stell ver sich han.
Väle Joahre lohta kaum etj vom Läwe enn Leahre tridj enn wull doahan, woa mol Tüs jewast wea. Noanijch trock mie daut dolla han aus noh Fraunz Netjels Hauns. Daut wea aum tiedjen Nohmeddach em Hoafst enn etj fuah jlitj doahan, omm Roosegoad enn Hauns too seehne; emm Stellen räatjend etj daut se beid nich Tüs senne wudde. Unjrem jälen Zockaboom stund Hauns siene tjliene Koah, enn etj odemd opp, enn tjreajch Wind von hinje. Wann bloß de Hauns Tüs senne wudd, dann wudd etj ahm een poah Jeschichte vetalle, daut ahm de Tjwiel toopranne wudd, enn nich bloß von Portage enn Draschabonsche enn jleie enjelsche Mejalles, de aul lange Betjse enn Leppefoaw druage...
Etj puttad aune Däah enn von benne roopt Hauns stell, etj sull nenn kohme. "Komm noh de Hinjastow. Etj sie hiea, Ivan." Joahrelang nich jeseehne, oba he wisst, daut etj daut wea. Hauns wea auleen.
Hauns lach em Bad mett eene Foarmametz mett een aufjeschiedet Schild oppem Kopp. Hauns frindeld soo's verhäa, uck lachd'a wada soo's frähjoah, oba wanna von Hoate lachd, kaum mie daut een bät je-eewd väa. "Mie jeit'et vondoag eenjamohte. Halp mie een bät aules tooptootjriee enn dann goh wie een bät enne Weid enne Sonn romm, joh?"
Wie jinje langsom oppe Netjels Weid enne woame Sonn medden em Oktoba. Etj wißt daut hiea irjendwaut seea, seea schlemm loswea, wiels tjeen Mennist enn siene baste Joahre lach aum Woatjeldach nohmeddach em Bad. Etj wea stomm von de Äwarauschung: waut etj väa haud, wea Hauns vonne Freileins väl wieda ooste aus Kenora, Ontario toovetalle. Enn dann daut Gaunze een bät met Hauns siene Erläwnisse von hinja Portage enne Draschtiet too vejlitje. Oba Hauns wull doavon nuscht weete kaum mie soo väa, enn etj wea enttwei, daut mie daut aulwada nich jejletjt haud, de Jeschicht vom Läwe opptowoame.
We jinje nohm Siede. Hanenwada mußt wie Spannjewäw vom Hoawst ons vom Jesecht stritje. Uck haud Hauns een Schneppelduak enne Haund, woont hee emma verrem Mül hild wanna räd. We kaume aun eenem Klompe Steena hinje enne Weid aun, dijcht bie eene Schopsfenz. Hauns haud sich aul hanjesat; hee tjitjt em Waste nenn enn trock sich daut Schild wieda äwre Uage; de Metzschild wea Hauns sien persönlijchet Jeschichtsbuak.
Etj wea veblefft: Hauns sach'ett meea erjäwe aus oppjereajcht enn etj wea veblefft. Daut wea stell omm ons, enn wiels Hauns soo stell wea, hild etj mie tridj.
Aus etj aul docht, daut dit woll aules senne wudd, hild Hauns sien Schneppelduak ver sien Mül, enn hee fong aun too räde: "Dee Tjräft fong twee Joah tridj aun enn leet donn een poah Mol noh. Nü haft de Krankheit toom latzten Mol nohjelohte enn fangt aun mie von aule Siede tootoosate. Enn nü sie etj aul soo wiet, daut etj mie mett dem Doot bekauntjemoakt hab. Oba etj docht, eea etj storf, haud etj weens vedeent, daut mie eene Frü goot wea." Etj tjreajch soo'n Schock, daut etj bloß Gaunsehüt haud, von bowe bett unje. Etj haud mie soo jefreit mett eenem jescheiden Mensch, dee waut vom Läwe enn vonne Musitj vestunt, mie mol saut too vetalle enn nü saut etj doa mett ladje Henj enn fung tjeene Wead, Hauns too treeste. Etj docht enn docht, daut mie meest schweet, oba tjeen Jedanke kaum mie, nuscht nich. Mie deed daut nü sogoa leet, daut etj en zimlich breedet Schwaut en Dietschlaund jeschnäde haud, enn etj prachad bie aule Mäatjess auf, dee miene Vesprätjunge von Leew enn Trüheit jejleeft haude, enn etj aum nächsten morje oba wiet äwa aule Hundat jewast wea. Toom Jletj fong Hauns wada aun: "De easchte fiewentwintig Joah von mienem Läwe weare bett'em Raund voll Oabeit. Aules waut etj doavon haud wea een oola Voltjswoage, eene Jitoa, omsonst, enn een Mülschiera, woonen etj biem oolen Trajchtmoaka Beand Ditj oppem Ütroop nohm Bejrafnis fe fiewentwintig Cent kofft. Enn daut wea donn uck aules."
Hauns haud daut wada mett sien Schneppelduak drock. "Doa wea niemols jenuag Jeld ooda Tiet fe een Tähnedockta, enn miene Tähne deede mie aul emma weeh, solang etj mie dentje kaun. Nü ess'et too loht dee fixe too lohte, wann mien Oola uck meent, hee wudd daut `seea wellijch' doohne, soo's 'a sajcht. Uck wudd etj soo jearn weens eene tjliene Foat wieda aus Jrienthol enn Roosegoad moake. Weetst noch, woo etj emma em Waste drasche deed? Enn daut ha etj uck väl jedohne, oba bloß enn miene Jedanke enn enn miene Jeschichte. Aules waut etj jemols deed, wea Steena opp onse schattaje Foarm opprieme. Stundelang, joh Sommalang, jiedet Joah mußt etj dreajet Bosch enn dreeje Beem tooplese enn daut aulatoop opp eenem Steen noppfeahre enn aunstetje. Enn donn läd etj emma noch meea aun bett de Steen jläjendig heet wea, enn donn spaund etj ons oolen Barnie aun enn hold twee Tonne mett Wota oppe Steenschlap. De stelpd etj opp den Steen nopp. Daut koldet Wota vefead den rootheeten Steen soo seea, daut'a plautst, enn donn fong de Oabeit oba eascht rechtig aun. Etj mußt mett'em Koohfoot den Stein ütenaunda ducke enn Barnie trock dann een Stetj nohm aundren mett'e Tjäd rüt, enn etj flied dee aulewäje bie de Düsende opp. Tjitj!, doa lidje se äwa onse gaunze Foarm aum Raund enn oppe Rains. Daut wea mien Läwe."
Wada mußt daut Schneppelduak Hauns siene Tähne verre fresche Loft schütze.
Hauns lacht enn etj hopt soo seea aus etj kunn, daut aules wada soo senne wudd aus Joahre tridj enn daut miene groote Hop de Wunde vonne Tiet jeschloage, vedonste wudde.
"Etj wad, Dü jinjst enn rollsd Mejalles enne Wad mett mie?" fruag Hauns. Etj säd nuscht, mien Jeschichte weare vewaltjt.
"Weetst noch Obraum Krohne Neeta, dee oole Mejall von hinjrem Graundridje doa emm Nuade hinjre Bescha?" fruag Hauns. "Afens," säd etj, oba etj haud ahr niemols jetroffe. "Na, etj head saje, see wea nich mätjlich wann'et toom Bielohte kaum. Enn dis Farjoah aus de Tjräft nohleet mie too piesacke, fuah etj mol han en nauhm sogoa eene guanze haulwe Buddel Tjoaschewhiskey mett. Etj gauf ahr dee Buddel, enn see tjitjt mie soo aun aus Frülied doohne, wann se eenem waut ütdriewe welle. `Waut feascht Dü emm Senn?' frajcht se mie. "Dauts soon scheena Dach, etj docht eefach mol aules stohne enn lidje lohte enn häakohme enn seehne aus wie Äwareenet väahaude."
`Na tjitj jünt mol aun,' sajcht se. `Etj weet waut Dü väahast von de Oat woo Dü de Henj enne Fuppe hast. Oba wann Dü jleewst, daut Dü mien Pie-Anna ennstemme woascht, best Dü oppem Holtwajch. Enn etj woa Die uck saje, woaromm. Etj weet waut daut bediet, wann Jungess soone spetzte Näse habe soo's Dü, wiels dann piepe se aul oppem latzten Loch. Enn wann etj Die bielohte wudd, dann wurscht Dü soo schratjlich loosjuche enn bloß noch eenen foahre lohte enn dann kolt senne.
"Etj vesocht ahr bietoobrinje, daut etj een ajchta Tjeadel wea, wiels daut sie etj je uck. Oba see säd bloß: `Dü best noch emma een haulwa Rußlenda and etj kaun mie noch een bät dentje aus Diene Ellre von Rußlaund kaume enn ons behaundelde aus wann wie Dratj weare, wann uck de Netjels enn de Woatjentiens too dee Tiet nich jenuag haude, omm'en Hund von hinjrem kolden Owe too locke. Jie meende jünt aula noch eene Striep, sogoa, oba nü daut Dü Stangefeeba hast, saul etj Die auftjeele. Hah! Enn sogoa wann etj Die bielohte wudd, weet etj noch aus etj Die mol pische sach aus Dü jrotzt üte korte Betjze rütjewosse weascht, enn aul donn säd etj too mie, nü tjitjt jünt bloß mol den Kolbassa aun wann'a tohm ess. Wann dee Tjneppel eascht mol wild woare sull, wudd Fraunz Netjel's Hauns eene jeweenelje Frü oppriete soo's wann eena een Schlachtmassa enn eene Arbüs nennstuak. Enn doawäjen saj etj Die: Nä. Enn doabie blift daut.'
"Donn hold Neeta de Buddel, woone etj mettjebrocht haud, üt eene Fupp enn äah Schalduak, enn nauhm eenen seea stiewen Schluck enn dann noch eenen enn donn dreid se de too enn schoof mie de tridj. `Doa hast diene Buddel, dee bie mie nich aunkaum. Nü kaust foahre enn mett Miss Dainty Füst eenen Date moake. Oba nü mott etj ütmeste.'
Hauns enn etj stunde opp enn jinje langsom tridj. Bie ahm aunjekohme, streept hee sich siene Schooh auf, hee haud sich dee nich mol toojebunge. Siene Metz hild hee opp aus hee noh hinje jintj enn donn lintjsch enn siene Stow nennwankt. Hauns leet sich enn sien Bad nennfaule, enn dreid sich wajch mett sien Schneppelduak wada verrem Mül. Donn nauhm siene lintje Haund daut Schneppelduak enn läd daut äwa sien Jesejcht, enn mett de Rajchte socht hee miene Haund, omm Audee too saje.
"Etj wull blooss eenmol weete, woo daut jeiht, wann eena eene Fru goot ess. Blooss eenmol. Eea etj stoaw."
Hanging around town on Sunday evenings was the highlight of the week. Chores were done and the hard labour of the coming week seemed far down the road of time. We got together for no real reason - we just wanted to engage in some braggadocio, one-up-man-ships and the occasional fight. Oh yes, and to argue about the CCF'ers and how Communistic they were and whether the Catholics from St. Pierre would kidnap all our Christian children in time or just some of them. As always, we argued about whether Frank Epp from Lena and the cousin to our own David Epp was really a second cousin to Syl Apps of the Toronto Maple Leafs or even more closely related, as some people said.
One Sunday in late July, just when the usual session of jawing was wearing thin and no one had any good reason to stay and even less to go home, a VW beetle, faded green in colour, came our way and whoever it was blew a cloud of dust and a horn of antique vintage while approaching. Then it stopped and lazily but with casual authority, a genuine yokel corkscrewed his way out of the tiny car. He was at least six feet tall and wore a cowboy shirt and real western boots. Once he was all there it seemed that all he needed to complete the picture was a six-shooter since he bore the stance of a fellow out of High Noon, cowboy hat and all. He was proud of himself and he knew he spelled presence.
"Hello, all of you, I'm Hauns!" he said, "and I come all the way from Rosengard to inspect the female population around here." We giggled a bit as boys do wanting to hear more from this newly arrived authority on women. He slouched back into his car and fetched a cherry whiskey mickey, taking a long schluck from it.
A few more fellows decided to come and linger, as well as a few kids, barefoot and curious. Even a few girls had emerged, keeping a safe distance but shyly curious and eager.
Still smiling, Hauns again went to his car, now producing a guitar and a mouth organ which he fastened around his neck on a little stand. Hauns strummed a bit, tuning his guitar. Then he stopped and silence surrounded him. Suddenly he yelled "YIPPEE AYE YOH" and started playing and singing arriving in mid concert in an instant. He pumped his right boot and then went for his mouth organ for the refrain of Red River Valley. Next Hauns turned down the volume and slowly closed his eyes, kissing the very keys of his mouth organ while it seemed he was strumming away in thought many miles away; then he stopped stomping but raised his right pointed boot toe instead and moved it in beat from side to side, almost reverently. The kids moved within inches of this troubadour and the girls, much moved, came closer and paid open-mouthed attention. Now Hauns played Beautiful Brown Eyes and when he noticed a blue-eyed girl he altered the line just for her. Then You are my Sunshine was next on the agenda with guitar, Hauns and mouth organ becoming one.
After a generous medley, Hauns informed his audience that he was going to play one more tune before packing up and "heading west." He played and sang some version of Muß i' denn, then he winked, promised to be back before the "summer is out", tipped his brown hat and was gone.
We stood around wondering what had happened. Short minutes ago a stream of wonder had flowed all around and through us buoying everyone up and now we were back again on heavy feet on barren ground, weighing much more with the silence driving me crazy. We boys seemed to agree that nothing much was going to work after Hauns had come, roped his Ring of Fire around us, and then left, so we went home to a quiet world. The girls, also, retreated into the world of everyday, while scanning an invisible horizon. The last to leave were the little boys who had seen what they had unknowingly lived for, and now it was over.
Hauns and I met more often than all of us together. I sought out the easy grace of a knowing fellow who could tell life's stories in song and let the guitar and his mouth organ fill in the gaps and refrains. Then there was his gentle manner with women which no one, and certainly not I, had ever experienced before unless we went to the movies. Hauns struck me as a guy to emulate; he was even capable of sinning, perhaps, without a guilty conscience; indeed he obviously had God on His side. At least so I concluded, because Hauns never came right out and said whether he had courted one or the other but I knew all this from the way he played and sang about love and winked and smiled and licked his lips as he embarked on his craft of song to dozens of tunes on the rivers of life.
Late in August in the mid-fifties life pulled us apart but not before Hauns played the last verse "From this Valley They say You are Leaving" just for me. That evening, alone with him, I noticed Hauns being mindful of his teeth as though they were hurting him but I forgot about such trivialities when he said, in Low German, "Let yourself enjoy life. I'll say hello to all those girls behind Portage, when I go back for threshing time tomorrow, o. k.?" Then Hauns walked to his Beetle, strumming his guitar and singing softly.
Many years later when I returned from life and learning to what had once been home, there was no one I wanted more to meet again than Fraunz Nickel's Hauns. It was early afternoon one fall day that year and I drove right over to his place, just to see Rosengard and Hauns again, half expecting to find neither at home. Under the yellowing maple tree stood Hauns's green Beetle of former times and I was reassured. If only Hauns would be there, too, did I ever have a story or two to tell him this time and not only about Portage and threshing gangs and fast-talking English girls who wore pants and jeans and lipstick...
I knocked and from inside Hauns quietly called to come in. "Come to the back room. I'm here, Ivan." Somehow he knew it was me after years of absence. He was alone.
Hauns lay in bed with a farmer's cap with a much worn bill on his head. His smile was still there and the easy laugh, but his life-affirming chuckle seemed a bit rehearsed. "I'm having a fairly good day, so please help me a bit to get things together and we can take a walk, okay?" he suggested.
We walked the Nickel pasture, slowly, in the lazy warmth of a mid-October afternoon. I knew something was terribly wrong for no Mennonite lay in bed in the prime of his life during working hours. Finding Hauns in bed had shocked me into silence; what I had had in mind was telling Hauns about the girls much farther east than Kenora, Ontario. And then to compare records with his catch west of Portage during threshing time. But Hauns would have none of that, I sensed, and I was disappointed that resuming the spinning of the yarn of previous times had failed, yet again.
We walked towards the south pausing occasionally to brush cobwebs of the fall from our faces. Also, Hauns had a handkerchief in his hand which he held before his mouth when he spoke. We reached a pile of rocks at the edge of the pasture, enclosed by a sheep wire. Hauns sat down, looking into the west and pulling down the worn bill of a cap that was his personal history over his eyes.
Hauns looked more resigned than troubled, more accepting than agitated and I was puzzled. The silence was of Hauns's making and I held my peace.
Just when I thought that this would probably be all, Hauns placed his handkerchief before his mouth and started talking, "The cancer started two years ago and the remission is over for the last time. And by now I don't really mind dying but I thought I at least deserved the love of just one woman before it's over." I was shocked into goose bumps. I had so much looked forward to exchanging confidentialities and now I was busy rummaging around in the vocabulary of consolation and finding nothing that sounded good or remotely fitting the occasion. I even apologized, very secretly, for the swath I had cut among the German girls who had believed my tales of love and fidelity and were discarded the morning after and whom I had intended to import to local life via stories today. Fortunately Hauns continued, "The first twenty-five years of life were filled to the brim with work. All I got out of it was a car, a guitar, free, and a Hohner mouth scraper for 25 cents at Old Chiropractor Bachelor Bernd Dyck's estate auction. That was all."
Hauns again busied himself with his handkerchief. "There was never enough money or time for a tooth doctor and my teeth have hurt me all my knowing life. Now it's too late to get them fixed even though my old man says he'll pay for them, even `gladly' he says. Also, I would so much like to take one trip beyond Grunthal and Rosengard. Remember, all the threshing I did out west? Well, I sure did but only in my stories. All I ever did was clear stones on our shitty farm. For hours and days all and every summer I gathered dried bush and logs and piled them on a stone and made a huge fire. This I let burn for as long as it took and then when the stone was piping hot I hitched up old Barnie to a stone boat and we dragged two barrels of water which I dumped on the red hot rock. The shock of the water split the boulders and then the real work started. I used a crowbar to break up the rock and then Barnie pulled out piece after piece by chain. Tomorrow it all started again from the start. Look at the jagged pieces, thousands of them piled up all around the farm. That was my life."
Again the handkerchief had to protect Hauns's rotten teeth from the air.
Hauns chuckled and I hoped with utmost desperation that everything would be as years before and that my fervent hope would evaporate the wounds of time.
"So I bet you went and competed with my record with the girls?" asked Hauns. I said nothing, my agenda had wilted.
"You remember Abram Krahn's Nettie, the spinster from behind the gravel ridge north behind the bushes?" asked Hauns. "Barely," I answered, having never met her. "Well, she wasn't exactly choosy when it came to a little bucking around, so I heard say. So I drove over to her place at the height of my remission this spring and even took along a whole little bottle of cherry whiskey. I gave it to her and she looks me over like women do when they want to ruin your carefully laid plans. `What's on your mind?' she says. "It's such a beautiful day that I decided to take it off and visit you and see if our plans are the same."
`Look here', she says, `I know what your plans are from the way you have your hands in your pockets. But if you think you are going to tune my piano, you are mistaken. And I will tell you why. I know what it means when menfolk get such pointed noses like you have because then they are close to piping on the last hole. And if I would let you loose on me, guys like you would either scream yourself hoarse from excitement or simply let one final one fly and croak.'
"I tried to convince her that I was genuine stuff, which I believe I am. She said, `You are of the Russländer stripe and I can almost remember when your folks came from Russia and treated my family like slaves even though you Nickels and Warkentines had not enough to entice a dog from behind a cold stove at the time. You all thought a great deal of yourselves, a whole pailful, even, but now that you have rod fever you want me to cool it down. Hah! And so the answer to you is no. And that's that.'
"Then Nettie took the bottle I had brought along from a pocket in her apron and twisted it open and took a very sturdy schluck, then another one and then she put the cap on it and shoved it at me with nothing more than, `There you have your bottle which didn't work with me. Now you can go and settle for a date with Miss Dainty Fist while I manure out the hen house.'"
Hauns and I got up and walked slowly back to the house. He slid out of his shoes which he hadn't even tied. He kept his cap on as he walked along the corridor and then turned left to his room. Hauns half dropped into bed and turned his head away with his handkerchief back at his mouth. Then he replaced his right hand with his left to hold the hanky over his face so that his right could look for mine to say good-bye.
"I just wanted to know what it was like to make love with a woman. Just once. Before I die."