“Oh?”
“There’s an article on the movie they went to see today, The Mark of Zorro. They say it’s breaking box office records all across America.”
“No surprise there. Like Grandma said, Douglas Fairbanks is. . . .” She didn’t finish it.
“Don’t give me that. You thought I was handsome enough back when we were courting.”
Edie’s eyes were twinkling. “Yes, but that was before you grew shorter.”
“It’s not called growing shorter; it’s called settling.”
She hooted. “So what else does it say about the movie?”
He lifted the paper again. “Oh, this is interesting. It says that Hollywood insiders are now predicting that we will see the end of silent movies by the end of the decade.”
“Really? Is that even possible?”
“That’s what it says. Instead of showing dialogue cards on screen, they’re developing what they call a synchronized sound track, so the audience will actually hear the actors speaking.”
“Now that would be worth a drive to Blanding.”
He glanced through the rest of that paper, set it aside, and picked up another. He browsed through it lazily, stopping only occasionally to read more than a few lines. That changed when he got to the second section. He settled down and read for two or three minutes. When he finished he looked over to Edie. “This is interesting. It’s an editorial called ‘A New Decade—a New Age.’ And his point is interesting. He says that the last decade was dominated by tragedy and horror.”
“Like the war, you mean?”
“Yes. And listen to this. The total number of military deaths from the war was eleven million, and seven million civilians died from disease, starvation, or from the war itself.”
Edie stopped, her needles poised in mid-air. “Eighteen million!”
“Yes, and another twenty million were wounded, and many of those lost limbs, their eyesight, or were otherwise permanently disabled. There are only about a hundred and six million people in America right now, so that’s like having almost one out of every two citizens killed or maimed. I knew it was bad, but I had no idea it was that extensive.”
Edie’s knitting was forgotten for the moment. “And that doesn’t count the Spanish flu epidemic. How many died in that around the world?”
“Yeah, he mentions that, too. They estimate about fifty million deaths. Unbelievable. His point is that a majority of people across the world experienced tragedy, loss, or death in the last ten years. So it was a pretty dark time for the world.”
“I know I’ll never forget those days with the flu. Remember how we all had to wear masks? And church and school were canceled. And we weren’t hit nearly as hard as other places.”
“Right, but the author doesn’t really dwell on all that. He just uses it to make a point, which is—well, let me read it to you. ‘We have started a new decade, and gratefully, change is in the air. People are tired of dwelling on the dark days of the past, and hope and optimism about the future are on the rise. America’s cultural makeup is changing. Our social standards are changing. Our ways of doing things are changing. For example, we recently reached the point that fifty-one percent of our population now lives in cities and larger towns, and more than half of our citizens are under the age of twenty-five. Our population is not only growing younger and more vibrant, but we are increasingly leaving a rural life style and embracing an urban one.
“‘One sign of the sweeping changes descending upon us is that we have passed two new amendments to the Constitution in the last year, both of which are harbingers of a brighter day. Liquor is now illegal in America, and they’re predicting that Tennessee will ratify the Nineteenth Amendment this summer and give women all across America the right to vote.’”
“Ha!” Edie snapped. “Someone should write and tell him that Utah and some of our neighboring states did that decades ago. But I am glad that it’s now federal law. I think we’ll see that have a profound effect on our society.”
“I agree, but we may get more than we bargained for from it. Listen to this next part. ‘We are already starting to see the effects of increased women’s rights in such things as the number of women who are now driving automobiles’”—he shot her a pointed look—“‘and who are finding employment outside of the home, and we see ladies’ clothing styles changing dramatically. While many people see this as an alarming trend, I, for one, applaud it. The colors are brighter, the fabrics softer and more elegant, skirt lengths have now risen to knee-height, especially in the larger cities, and bare shoulders are now becoming a common sight. I find this trend most appealing.’”
“Appealing!” Edie exploded. “More like appalling. Some of the new styles are downright shocking, and yet Tina sees these kinds of dresses in the catalogs and begs me to let her order one. Even Rena bought a dress when they were over in Grand Junction two weeks ago, and the hem of her skirt only comes to mid-calf. And she sees nothing wrong with that.”
Actually, when Mitch had seen his daughter’s new dress, he had found it to be quite attractive and had complimented her on it, but he thought it wiser not to mention that at the moment.
“Sorry,” Edie said. “Keep going.”
“Okay. I thought this part was interesting. ‘We are changing for the better in many other ways. For example, health care and new medicines are being discovered every day, and the life expectancy in the United States is now 53.6 years for men and 54.6 for women, as compared to 49 years for women in 1900, and 47 years for men.’” He looked up. “That’s pretty impressive.”
Edie chuckled appreciatively. “I attribute a good part of that to the Band-Aid. To me, that’s one of the best things to come along in years.”
“Well, he says that this is just the beginning. He predicts that by the end of the decade, about fifty percent of all families in America will own their own automobile; that iceboxes will be a thing of the past as electric refrigerators are mass produced. Even rural homes will have electricity, a telephone, a radio. And airplanes are not only carrying mail back and forth between cities, but they’re starting to carry people, too. Can you believe that? Imagine what it would mean if we could fly to Europe instead of taking a ship.”
Edie shuddered. “Don’t even say that. It gives me chills just to think about being that high in the air. You’ll be lucky to ever get me to drive a car.”
He smiled in amusement. “Oh, I think that will come. Maybe we’ll get Tina to teach you.”
“Stop it,” she cried. “Stop making me feel my age. And, while we’re talking about that, I’m not sure it’s wise you letting Tina drive the pickup truck.”
“It’s only around the ranch.”
“She’s already begging you to let her drive into town and back.”
“Ain’t gonna happen. Not until she’s sixteen at least.”
Edie was studying him thoughtfully as he spoke. “Do you think it was this way with Adam and Eve?”
“Whoa!” he cried. “Where did that come from?”
“Well, do you?”
“What do you mean by ‘this way’?”
“This perpetual tug of war between parent and child, between the old generation and the new, between wanting things to stay as they are and demanding that they change.”
Mitch was tempted to make some flippant rejoinder, but it was an intriguing question.
“Well?” she said.
“I’d say yes, at least to some degree. And this may sound a bit far-fetched, but I think some of that is part of God’s plan.”
“Really?” Edie was genuinely surprised.
“Yes. Think about it. If it were left up to us, we’d sit in our rocking chairs and be satisfied with a warm lap blanket and cup of hot chocolate. If it was up to the young, they’d throw out everything old and charge at life like an angry rhino. They are drawn to anything new and exciti
ng and challenging.”
“Hmm.”
Mitch studied Edie for a moment. “And weren’t we the same way? What if somebody came to us now and said, ‘We’re starting this new settlement up near the Blue Mountains called Monticello. We’d like you to go and be one of them.’”
Edie groaned aloud. “Oh, dear, it makes me tired just thinking back on all that we did.”
“Me too. We knew before we ever left that it wasn’t going to be easy, that we would have hostile Indians and lawless, drunken cowboys, and drought and floods . . . but we came anyway. And now we wouldn’t trade that experience for anything, right?”
Edie nodded and then rolled up her knitting, put it back in the basket, and came over and sat beside him. She snuggled in against him and put her head on his shoulder. “What will life be like for our kids, Mitch? Will they be strong enough? Life is pretty soft for them compared to what it was for us.”
“True, and I want to say, ‘Of course they will be strong.’ But who knows? I do know this. They’re good kids.”
“Yes, they are. But things are changing so quickly now.”
He reached out and took her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers. Then he leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Well, I am sure of one thing.”
“What?”
“If you’re not driving into town on your own before Tina is, I’m going to take away your rocking chair, Miss Zimmer. You have my word on that.”
April 3, 1920, 5:35 p.m.—EDW Ranch
“Mom, come quick.”
Edie, who was in the kitchen with Grandma Westland rolling out pie dough, didn’t look up. “I’m busy, Tina. What is it?”
“The Lewis Brothers bus just stopped in town. Two or three people got off. One of them is coming up the road toward our house.”
“Who is it?”
“You’re not going to believe this.”
“Just tell me,” she called.
“It’s Frank.”
Edie’s head snapped up, as did Gwen’s. “Our Frank? Your brother Frank?” Edie asked.
“Well, if it isn’t,” Tina drawled, “he’s got an identical twin.” And with that, she shot out the door, leaped off the porch, and took off running.
5:37 p.m.
“Tina,” Frank said with some exasperation, “I did not flunk out of school.”
“Then why are you here? You had to have left yesterday to get here, and yesterday was a school day.”
Gwen spoke softly. “Tina, let your brother speak, please.”
For all her teasing, Tina stood right beside Frank, her arm through his, her head against his shoulder, a huge grin plastered on her face. Though there was almost five years’ difference in their ages, and though they had fought constantly for years, and though they were strikingly different in physical appearance—Frank had carrot-red hair and enough freckles to populate the Milky Way—these two were very close.
“General conference is this weekend,” Frank was saying to his mother. “The university canceled classes for yesterday, Monday, and Tuesday. So I took the train down to Thompson Springs yesterday, then caught the bus.”
“I’m so glad you did,” Edie exclaimed. “This is a wonderful surprise.”
Tina gave him a dubious look. “But you don’t attend the university.”
“No, little sister, I don’t attend Brigham Young University, but I do attend Brigham Young High School, which is operated by the university, and which keeps the same schedule as the university.” Then to his mother, he went on. “I’ll catch the bus back to Thompson on Tuesday morning and be back in Provo by Tuesday night.”
Edie spoke up. “All right, everyone. Let’s give Frank a chance to take his bag to his room and wash up. I need to finish my pie crusts and get the apples cooking. Abby, you and Benji set the table. And get the card table from the hall closet and set that, too.” She turned to her oldest son. “MJ, will you call Rena and Rowland and tell them Frank’s here and see if they could come down for supper?”
“Sure. Do you want me to invite them to stay overnight?”
“Yes, of course. In fact, invite them to stay until Monday. Rowland probably can’t be away from the ranch that long, but Rena and the kids could.”
“You’re making apple pie?” Frank cried. “Yum! That means I can only have three helpings of mashed potatoes and gravy.”
Tina looked up at the sky, clasped her hands together in an attitude of prayer, and said with some fervency, “Lord, bless us to get our food before Frank, or there won’t be any left.”
“Christina Rae!” Edie cried. “That is not funny.”
“I know,” she said with only a trace of contrition, “but it’s true.”
6:45 p.m.
The moment Benji finished blessing the food, and even as the bowls of mashed potatoes, steamed carrots, brown gravy, and a large platter of seared T-bone steaks started around the table, Rena turned to her younger brother. “So, Frank, since you are not one of the world’s more stellar letter writers, catch us up. Tell us about high school. Do you still like it? How are your teachers? What is your favorite class?”
Frank held up one hand to hold off her queries while he ladled gravy over a mountain of potatoes and then selected the largest steak on the platter. “Actually, I really like it, even better now that I know what to expect. For the most part, the teachers are really good—with the exception of my English teacher. She’s brand new, like only a couple years older than me, and I know more than she does.”
“The boy says ever so humbly,” MJ said dryly.
Frank ignored the gibe. “But my favorite class is science. I love that class, and Mr. Kittle is my favorite teacher.”
“What kind of science?” Mitch asked as he speared a steak and put it on his plate.
“Well, supposedly all kinds. We studied geology and biology before Christmas. Then we did a unit on chemistry. But right now we’re studying physics, especially about electricity and radio and that kind of stuff.”
“What’s radio?” Benji asked, hanging on to every word Frank was saying.
Frank laid down his fork. “It’s a miracle, Benji. Did you know that right now, right here in this very room, there is music playing in the air all around us?”
Benji’s eyes widened. “Nuh-uh,” he said.
“He’s teasing you, Benji,” Tina said.
“Am not,” Frank retorted.
“I know that big ships have radios,” Tina countered, “but that’s out on the ocean. There are no radios here.”
“Doesn’t matter if there are radios here or not. There are radio waves in the air all around us, and those radio waves carry music and conversations with them. And with a radio you can hear them.”
Rowland Redd, Rena’s husband, was clearly skeptical. “We’re a hundred miles from the end of nowhere out here, Frank. I think you’re wrong.”
Frank pushed back from the table. “Wait. I’ll show you.” And he took off for the bedroom.
“Frank,” Edie cried after him, “it can wait. Your dinner will get cold.”
But a moment later he was back with some kind of contraption in his hand. Everyone turned and craned their necks to see. What he held in his hand was a flat piece of wood about nine inches by six inches and about an inch thick. On the wooden base there was a coil of bright copper wire. Next to it was a small metal part with a black knob on it, and in one corner, there was tin sheeting that encased what looked like a small, dirty piece of glass. All of these parts were connected with thin lengths of copper wire. In Frank’s other hand, he held something round made of black plastic with a bunch of holes in one side. A longer piece of wire dangled from it.
With a grand flourish, he set the items on the table beside his mother’s plate. “This, my friends,” he said in an official voice, “is what is known as a crystal radio. I made this my
self earlier this week in class.”
The younger children’s eyes grew as big as saucers. Edie watched him with warm affection and relished what he was about to do, which was to prove them all wrong. She could see it in his eyes. This was Frank. Fascinated with facts. Enchanted with any kind of learning, his mind racing at a hundred miles per hour, his thoughts bouncing off one another like billiard balls on a pool table.
Rena and Rowland got up and came around the table so they could see better, as did their two children. Frank reached down and touched the piece of “glass” with his fingertip. “This is known as a Galena crystal. It’s a rock crystal, just like we sometimes find in the mountains. But certain crystals have the ability to pick up radio signals from the air.”
“You get music from a rock?” June cried. “Now I know you are pulling our legs.”
Frank ignored that. “And guess what else? It works without electricity. You don’t have to plug it into the wall or anything.”
“Okay,” Grandma Westland said, “I’m with June. What’s the joke?”
Grinning, Frank went right on. “Grandma, this coil of wire is my antenna. Because the signals carrying the sounds are very weak, it takes a long antenna to pick them up. And this,” he held up the black plastic circular object with the wire attached to it, “is an earpiece. It helps magnify the sounds.”
Bending over, he attached that wire to the antenna in another place and put it up to his hear. “Okay, everyone. Quiet, please.”
There was instant silence as everyone leaned in. Frank bent down and began turning the black knob very slowly. “Ah!” he said after a moment, and he moved the knob back a smidgen. “There’s a man talking to someone. But let’s keep going.” More adjustments, and then a slow smile stole across his face. He extended the black piece to Gwen. “Here you go, Grandma. Put this up to your ear.”
Still clearly skeptical, Gwen pushed her hair back and pressed it against her right ear. She listened intently, and then her eyes flew open and she gasped. “Oh my word!”
“What, Grandma?” Tina cried. “What is it?”
Without a word, Gwen handed the earpiece to Edie. Her experience was the same. A moment of concentration, then amazement. She looked up at her son. “I can’t believe it.” Then she handed it to Mitch. “It really is music.”