Where Did Howdy Go?

AuthorHouse

Chapter One

When I reflect on it now, I can see that the occasional lapses of memory Howdy began experiencing in 1979 were the start of a devastating sequence of events. We had no way of knowing then that it would be the beginning of a terrible nightmare.

Before Howdy's 69th birthday, on March 3, 1979, he seemed to be more and more forgetful. I found myself saying to him all too often, "Boy, you can sure tell you're going to be 69 on your birthday. It's a good thing your head's attached, or you'd forget that, too." He'd look at me with those big, sad-looking, brown eyes, and then we'd both laugh.

A few weeks after Howdy's birthday that year, we went to see my sister, Mary Jane, and her family in Aliquippa, Pennsylvania. During our visit, Mary Jane pointed out how my teasing seemed to hurt Howdy's feelings.

"You ought to stop making those comments about Howdy's forgetfulness," she said. "I think it's really bothering him. Even though you're laughing when you say it, he gets a hurt look on his face."

Occasionally, we need someone to tell us when we're doing something wrong. That was certainly one of those times. Thereafter, I became more aware of Howdy's feelings, and I tried hard not to offend him anymore. But as time went on, I caught myself saying things that upset him, and I found myself saying, "I'm sorry," more and more often. Eventually, the apologies came so frequently that the tears inevitably came, too. It was like someone opening up the floodgates. Sometimes I'd cry on and off for days and days. The pain, borne out of a sense of guilt and frustration, became overwhelming. Many times, I thought my heart would literally break.

I cried more, over a ten-year period, than most people cry in a lifetime. I sometimes wondered where all the tears came from, and why my eyes didn't shrivel up. I also wondered what kept me from just totally breaking down. I cried just as much at the end, as I did in the beginning. It was a good thing Howdy never lost the ability to express his feelings through facial expressions, and with his eyes. By understanding his bewilderment, yet seeing that loving tenderness in those eyes, I managed to keep going through the darkest days.

From the onset of Howdy's forgetfulness in 1979, until May of 1983, we lived a relatively normal life, without any major incidents. As each year passed, Howdy developed an increasing dislike for the cold winters of the North. Finally, he convinced me we should head for the warmth of the South, and we moved from Ohio to Dade City, Florida, in March of 1981. The decision to go wasn't an easy one, however, as our son, John, and his family, lived in Ohio. I knew we wouldn't see our grandchildren very often, but I was convinced moving would be the best thing for Howdy.

We lived in Florida year-round until 1986. That year we bought a house trailer back in Ohio. For the next few years, we lived six months of the year in our home in Florida, and six months in our home in Ohio. We migrated with the seasons - just like the birds.

Howdy slept a great deal of the time during those long, twenty-one hour, drives between Ohio and Florida. That gave me many hours to reflect on happier times, and I often thought of how Howdy and I met. Looking back, it seemed as if our meeting had been scripted by fate.

Chapter Two

In 1941, I moved with my family from our hometown of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to Detroit, Michigan. Mary Jane and I found jobs working in factories that made components for military aircraft. We lived with our mother and my son, John, in a small, cramped apartment. I was a riveter and Mary Jane was a welder. We worked long, hard hours with few breaks, but were grateful to have jobs after the lean years of the Depression. Even though we made pretty good money, we hated living in Detroit and longed for the familiar, hilly terrain of home. So, one day early in 1944, we quit our jobs, packed up, and headed home to Pittsburgh.

Our first priority, of course, was finding jobs. Since neither Mary Jane, nor I, drove, or owned a car, we considered ourselves extremely lucky when we both found work at a bakery located just a short streetcar ride from home.

We worked the night shift with a terrific group of girls and a few men. We had a wonderful foreman named Howard. Everyone called him Howdy, and all the girls adored him because he was always smiling, or singing. It didn't take very long for me to understand why the girls were so crazy about Howdy. Not only was he very good-natured, but he also had a heart of gold. I'd never encountered such a caring, sensitive man before. Almost from the beginning, like the other girls, I had a crush on Howdy, and soon I found myself falling in love with him. Of course, I was sure he didn't know I existed.

I worked at the bakery for just a few months when a man working on the oven went into the service, and they needed to train someone to take over his job. I was surprised to find out I'd been selected, and when I learned Howdy would be teaching me how to operate the oven, I was thrilled.

The very first night of my training, Howdy carefully explained the mechanical operation of the oven, the safety precautions, and how to handle the various items that would be baked in the oven. At first, the prospect of being responsible for running such a huge and important piece of equipment was a bit overwhelming. The oven itself was as large as a small room, and if something went wrong with it, a major portion of the bakery operation would be shut down. As you might imagine, I was very intimidated, but Howdy was so patient and encouraging that my mind was soon at ease.

When Howdy finished going over all my responsibilities and answering my questions at the front of the oven, he took me to the back to show me how it fired up. He also showed me how the chain drive worked to move large trays weighing several hundred pounds each. I must have been feeling more comfortable because, as Howdy continued his instruction, I found myself looking at him out of the corner of my eye. Little did I know at the time, but Howdy was doing the same.

Not long after that, we discovered just how strongly we were attracted to each other, and eventually, we began seeing each other. From the very beginning of our relationship, Howdy was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Working at the bakery was more like a family get-together than a job, because we were all so compatible and enjoyed working together. Someone always seemed to be singing, and we laughed a lot. Most of the girls were Italian and wonderful cooks, so occasionally, we'd bring in the makings for an Italian dinner. What wonderful times we had, and we were eating like royalty! We didn't have to worry about the dough for bread or pasta - it was right there at our fingertips.

During those weeks and months, I discovered, for the first time in my life, how it felt to really be in love. And I was as sure of Howdy's love for me as I was of my love for him. The day of our marriage was the happiest day of my life.

Things were great until 1949. We'd moved to Cleveland and our lives seemed ideal. But that year, Howdy suffered a ruptured ulcer and it almost perforated the wall of his stomach. Complicating matters was the fact that I was pregnant at the same time.

For almost two years before his ulcer ruptured, Howdy would occasionally complain about a recurring pain between his shoulder blades in his back. Gradually, the pain became more and more severe. One night, when he came home from work in the middle of the night, he had to crawl up the stairs because the pain was so intense. That's when I insisted on Howdy going to the doctor's the next day. By then, he was so critically ill the doctor insisted on putting him in Doctor's Hospital immediately.

I'd never been around anyone who had an operation before. It was an agonizing ordeal for me as well as Howdy. I waited for nine, excruciating hours, as Howdy lay near death on the operating table. Finally, I was told I could visit him in his room. Nothing could've prepared me for the shock of what I saw. He had a tongue depressor in his mouth, a hose going up his nose, IV's in both arms, a catheter in his penis, and to make things even worse, the next day they put a tube up his rectum - for gas. I still have horrible memories of that gut-wrenching experience. He also had tubes running from his stomach to a tank containing the most terrible looking stuff I ever saw. I was pregnant, so the sight of the liquids in that jar nauseated me, and I wanted to throw up - but I didn't. His private nurse was also pregnant. I never understood how she could deal with all that in her condition.

We lived on one side of town and Doctor's Hospital was located on the opposite side. It took three busses to get to the hospital from our house. I'd go in the morning, then return home when our son, John, got home from school, and both of us would make the trip back. We did that every day until Howdy was allowed to go home. It was exhausting for both John, and me, so we were relieved when it was finally over. But John had an even greater reason for never wanting to see that hospital again, because he had an extremely traumatic experience while Howdy was a patient there.

At that time, children weren't allowed to visit the patients, so I'd leave John in the lobby of the hospital while I went upstairs to visit Howdy. One evening, while I was sitting with Howdy, one of the nurses came down the hall calling for "Mrs. Becker." Since my name was Weidman then, I didn't make the connection immediately. But it finally occurred to me she was looking for me.

When I asked her why she was looking for Mrs. Becker, she said I was needed downstairs in the Emergency Room because a dog had bitten my son. At first, I thought she was joking, but from the urgency in her voice, I could tell she wasn't.

When we arrived in the emergency room, John was crying uncontrollably. It took quite a while for me to settle him down enough for him to tell us what happened. Once he stopped sobbing, he explained how he followed my instructions and stayed in the lobby of the hospital. But shortly after I went upstairs, a woman came rushing into the lobby with a small dog. Since she couldn't take the dog into the hospital with her, she dumped it in John's lap and told him to watch it until she came back. John said that he sat as rigid as a stone for what seemed like hours. I knew that was probably true because John had been bitten by dogs twice before, and he was very nervous around them.

After a long wait, John decided I was late, so he placed the dog on the floor while he went to look for a clock. When he went back and tried to pick the dog up again, it bit him. John began screaming hysterically, and caused quite a stir throughout the hospital. The nurse said she was surprised we didn't hear him screaming up on the fourth floor.

The hospital staff had to call the police, because the law stipulated that dogs guilty of biting someone had to be quarantined for a period of time, so they could be tested for rabies. When the woman who owned the dog found out it would be quarantined, she became very upset. She begged me not to allow them to take her dog away, but according to the police, there was nothing I could do about it. So, the woman became hysterical, and it was quite a scene! I couldn't get over the fact she had the nerve to be mad at us because her dog had to be quarantined. Needless to say, John never watched anyone's dog again after that.

Howdy's recovery went very well. He ate baby food for several weeks, then junior food, before he went back to a normal diet. Once he returned to eating regular food, he never had any more problems.

In July, we had a beautiful baby girl. She had dark hair, a nice round head, and the smoothest skin you could imagine. Of course, we were prejudiced. We named her Barbara Lynn, and Howdy was planning on calling her "Babs." The day after she was born, however, she started turning yellow. By the next day, she was even more yellow, and we were terribly worried. On the third day, the doctor told us there was an RH factor making our baby jaundiced. Because my blood was negative, and Howdy's was positive, the two blood types just didn't go together. The hospital staff seemed to be running around like crazy in a frantic effort to save our baby. Finally, the doctor asked us if we had someone who could donate blood. Howdy asked at the bakery and a young fellow volunteered to donate his.

Unfortunately, by that time, it was hopeless. Barbara Lynn's veins were so small the donated blood went straight into her tissues instead of her veins. When the doctor came into my room and asked me if I wanted her baptized I knew my worst fears were realized. It was the fourth day of her life, and the worst day of ours. As the minutes slowly ticked away, she gradually turned a very deep shade of orange. Within a few hours, she was gone.

"Barbara Lynn Weidman," lived such a short life. To have experienced the joy of carrying her for nine months, and to have dreamed the dreams that mothers do, only to lose her, was devastating. What a terrible tragedy. I'm convinced the doctor should have known by the blood tests we had an RH problem, and should've been prepared for it. I'd never seen Howdy cry before, and he cried helplessly - we all did. We not only felt our own loss, but we also felt sorry for the man who donated the blood, because he thought it was his blood that caused her death. He was deaf, and Howdy couldn't sign, so Howdy had a very difficult time convincing him it wasn't his fault.

Howdy and I never tried to have any more children after that. It was just the three of us from then on, Howdy, John, and me.

That was the first time in my life I was mad at God. It was hard for me to understand why he'd take our precious little girl away from us. I never dreamed that later in my life I'd be mad at God again for allowing the man I loved to suffer and die so terribly. Fortunately, in time, I got over those feelings and regained my faith.

Of course, from that point on, we knew John would be our only child, and Howdy and I certainly thanked God for giving him to us. Howdy accepted my son as his own, and they got along well. When John graduated from high school in 1960, Howdy decided he should go to college. Howdy never had the opportunity to attend college, so he wanted John to have that chance. I wanted him to go into the service, because I felt the discipline and responsibility he'd learn there would make him a better person. But Howdy was adamant, and I allowed him to make the final decision.

Chapter Three

Howdy and I both worked. He continued to work as a baker, and I was a cashier in a supermarket. Howdy worked weird hours. Since his specialty was baking bread, and bread was the first thing to be finished in the morning, he generally went in to start work around 4:00 P.M. With him working nights and me working days, we didn't get to spend much time together. When we did get together, we were so glad to see each other that it seemed as if we never had time to argue about anything. When he came home at 3:00 in the morning, I'd be up waiting for him, with a good, hot meal ready as soon as he walked in the door. After cleaning up, we'd go to bed. I had to get up again at 6:00 to go to work, so he'd be gone when I came home - certainly no time for arguing.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Where Did Howdy Go?by Ruth C. Weidman John E. Becker Copyright © 2010 by Ruth C. Weidman & John E. Becker. Excerpted by permission.
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