My Great-grandfather Turns Twelve Today
(c) 2003 Bill Dodds
Chapter 12
"What is it, Peter?" Aunt Mary asked and
she sounded worried.
"Mr. Braxton told me this was coming," Uncle Peter
said. "He warned me several months ago."
"What was coming?" Aunt Mary asked.
"First, let me make sure I know what I'm talking
about," he said. He tore open the envelope and quickly read the one-page
letter that was inside. "Uh huh," he said.
"Uh huh, what, Pa?" the oldest boy, Sean, asked.
"Mr. Braxton has sold some of his bank notes to someone
else."
"What?" Pat asked.
"A bank makes loans," Uncle Peter said, "so
people can have money for things like land or a house."
"Did the bank loan us money for our land and our
house?" Charlie asked.
"That's right," Uncle Peter said. "That's
called a mortgage. And every month we make a mortgage payment. We pay off a
little bit of the loan until we've paid off everything. And the bank charges
interest on the loan. We pay back more than we borrowed because we're using the
bank's money. That's how it makes money."
"So what did Mr. Braxton do?" Sean asked.
"When a bank needs more money, for whatever reason,
sometimes it takes some of those loans and sells them to someone else. Then
people like us make our mortgage payment to that someone else."
"Oh, Peter," Aunt Mary said, "not...?"
Uncle Peter laughed. "Who else?" he said.
"Who?" a bunch of the kids asked.
"Mr. Meyer's bank now holds the deed to the farm,"
Uncle Peter said. "We'll be making monthly payments to him."
"Julius Meyer?" asked Brigid, the oldest girl.
"The one who used to be Mama's boy fr..." She clapped her hand over
her mouth.
"Julius T. Meyer," Uncle Peter said. "One and
the same. The very fellow who had such a crush on your mother when she was just
a lass."
"Mr. Meyer was your beau?" Sissie asked.
"Her what?" I whispered to Charlie.
"Boy friend," he whispered back.
"He was not my beau," Aunt Mary said. "He was
simply a gentleman caller. On occasion we attended the same dances."
"And did you dance with him, Mama?" Sissie asked.
"Did she!" Uncle Peter said. "Well, I'll just
say she did. He was quite a dashing fellow, you know. Son of a banker. Finest
clothes. A matched team and brand new buggy."
"So why didn't you marry him, Mama?" Sissie asked
and Aunt Mary blushed.
"She met a farmer," Uncle Peter said. "Son of
a farmer. Old clothes. One mule and a used plow."
"Who was that?" Sissie asked.
"Papa," Brigid said. "She met Papa."
"I fell in love with a farmer," Aunt Mary said.
"A big, strong, handsome man who worked so hard and was so kind and gentle
and sweet and I love him still."
"I hope she means me," Uncle Peter said and
everyone laughed. "And I hope that beautiful woman made bread pudding for
dessert because this happens to be the handsome farmer's son's birthday."
"That's me," Charlie said. "And it's Michael's
birthday, too."
"Is that right, Michael?" Aunt Mary asked.
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
"He's 12 just like I am," Charlie said.
"Well, now," Aunt Mary said, "isn't that
grand?"
We finished dinner and then Aunt Mary left the room and came
back with a large cooking dish and set it on the table. It was filled with some
kind of chunky glop.
"No cake and candles, huh?" I asked and everyone
looked at me.
"Cake and candles?" they asked.
"You know," I said. "Make a wish and blow out
the candles."
"Blow out what candles?" Pat asked.
"You put little candles in a cake," I said.
"Then you light them and make a wish and blow them out. And sing 'Happy
Birthday.'"
"Sing what?" Aunt Mary asked.
"Everyone does," I said. "Everyone in..."
Charlie gave me a hard kick under the table. He was barefoot but it still hurt.
"Vaudeville," he said. "Everyone in
vaudeville."
"Sing it," Pat said.
"No," I said, "I couldn't..."
"I never heard of anybody in vaudeville who didn't love
to sing," Uncle Peter said. "Go ahead, Michael. We'd enjoy hearing
it."
So I sang it. Then we all sang it. Then we had the bread
pudding. It was okay. It had a lot of sugar in it.
"Pa?" Sean asked while we were finishing up with
our dessert. "What does the letter from the banker mean, exactly?"
"It means," Uncle Peter said, "now we owe the
money to Mr. Meyer. We'll make the monthly mortgage payments to him."
"But..." Aunt Mary began to say something and then
she stopped. She looked worried. No, more than worried. She looked scared.
"But," Uncle Peter said, seeming to read her mind,
"we were behind in our payments to Mr. Braxton. He let us fall behind so we
could buy seed and other necessities this spring. And when the crop comes in
this fall, we would have paid him back."
"Do you think Julius will...?" she asked.
"Let us stay behind in our payments all summer?" he
asked. "No, I think he'll demand all the back money we owe."
"How much exactly?" Aunt Mary asked.
"One hundred and fifty dollars," Uncle Peter said
and I laughed. Was that all? Everyone looked at me.
"That's not a lot, is it?" I asked.
"Maybe not if you're in vaudeville," Pat said,
"but a lot for most folks. A job in town pays three dollars."
"An hour?" I asked.
"A day," Charlie said.
"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry, Uncle Peter. I
didn't know."
"That's all right, son," Uncle Peter said.
"According to Mr. Braxton's letter, the money isn't due until a week from
Monday."
"A week from Monday!" Aunt Mary exclaimed.
"And if we don't pay it by then," he said, "we
lose the farm."
Go to Chapter 13.
