Good-Bye, Pittsburgh

Lou Reed Mary

Description

In the years following Americas victory over Germany and Japan, the heady exhilaration of winning the war begins to fade in post-war Pittsburgh. The spewing filth of the steel mills and the stinging aftermath of the war take their toll on the Donatti family. Better jobs await them in California, and the family plans to head west.Ten-year-old Marianne isnt happy about leaving her home, and she likes it even less when she and her family move into her grandmothers house for six months before heading to California. From the start, Marianne dislikes the new street and the mean kids on it. But at her new school, she finds a kindred spirit with the neighborhood whipping boy, Hurkey Polowski, and the two develop a deep friendship. Even so, Marianne feels torn between acceptance by the other kids and loyalty to Hurkey. She finds solace with Hurkeys mother, Sophie, who is struggling with her husbands change of character since his return from the war. When tragedy strikes, however, Marianne and Sophie will need each other more than ever before.A window into post-war America, Good-Bye, Pittsburgh is a moving tale of friendship, loyalty, and shattered dreams.

Informations

• Publié par: Inspiring Voices
• Date de parution: 01 mars 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781462405244
• Langue: English

Extrait

Good-Bye, Pittsburgh
Mary Lou Reed


 
 
 
Copyright © 2013 Mary Lou Reed.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
Inspiring Voices books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:
 
Inspiring Voices
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.inspiringvoices.com
1-[phone]
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Original cover artwork by Mary Lou Reed
 
ISBN: 978-1-4624-0523-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4624-0524-4 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013901860
 
Inspiring Voices rev. date: 02/28/2013
Contents
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
 
 
 
 
Dedication: To Corky, Kim, David and Kelly
Acknowledgements
T here are people in my life who will always be a part of me—my forever love, Corky, our three children, Kim, David and Kelly and our eight grandchildren: Christopher, Reed, Sarah, Mitchell, Eric, Alec, Frankie and Sammy. This novel is to remind them that the past and present are forever intertwined.
Many thanks to my friends at Guideposts for their support and encouragement and especially to my writing group, the Marbleshapers: Peggy Frezon, Julie Garmon, Susan Karas, Catherine Madera, Wanda Rosseland, BJ Taylor, Stephanie Thompson, and Shawnelle Eliason. Their words of encouragement and inspiration have kept me glued to my writing chair. A special thanks to those who saw my novel in its infancy stages and gave their critiques: Alexes Razevitch, Alfred Martino, Cathy Bruhn, Janet Reiner, Diane Woods and Deborah Moore. To all, I will be forever grateful.
Prologue
M aria nne Donatti skipped her way up Murtland Avenue to ward the little grocery store around the corner, a dime clutched tightly in her hand. Just a loaf of bread, her mother said. And don’t dawdle, she said. But all Marianne kept thinking about was the bomb that had been dropped on a city in Japan that morning. That must’ve been some bomb. It killed everybody. She stopped skipping and her steps slowed. It was just like everyone in Pittsburgh could be dead. Her parents, her brother and sister, her grandparents—all dead. The thoughts whirled in her head. Some little girl in Hiroshima was probably going to the market to get some milk, or probably tea, or some strange food for her mother, too. And then, she was dead. Marianne thought she should be glad the Japanese were bombed, but she wasn’t glad at all. She didn’t want to think about it anymore and ran the rest of the way to the market.
Earlier that day, Marianne’s father shouted from the living room that President Truman was saying something important on the radio. They gathered around and listened as the president explained that a bomb—an atomic bomb—had been dropped on Hiroshima, Japan. It had to be done to end the war. Although Marianne didn’t understand what the bombing really meant—she had heard about countless other bombings—she knew this one was different by the way her parents reacted. Her mother and father reached out for each other, arms entwined, and just stood there, staring at the radio as the president spoke. When it was over, her mother turned from the radio and bowed her head. Two days later, another bomb was dropped on Nagasaki.
Every day that passed after the bombings found people see-sawing between the hope that the war was over, and the fear that Japan would never give up. People talked of nothing else. Even the kids in the street talked about how much damage twenty thousand tons of TNT could do. They ate dinner and talked; went to work and talked; played and talked and everybody was only a few yards away from a radio.
A few days later Marianne joined her friends, Judy and Iris, on the corner curb. It was late afternoon and already enticing aromas were drifting out of the houses. She couldn’t remember a time when the neighborhood wasn’t bustling with people and cars. Now it was eerily quiet.
“Come on, let’s jump rope,” Marianne said.
“It’s too hot,” Iris whined.
Marianne and Judy got up from the curb. “It’s never too hot. You don’t want to play because you can’t do Double Dutch.”
Marianne was in the middle of her turn when Kenny Monahan almost ran them over with his bike. “Hey!” Judy screamed at him. Watch where you’re going, you idiot.”
“If I’m an idiot, you’re a moron,” he shot back.
“Oh, yeah?” Marianne shouted. “Well, an idiot is dumber than a moron.”
Kenny stuck his tongue out and pedaled away.
Judy took the rope end. “Come on, Iris, it’s your turn.” They each took turns singing some of their favorite rhymes, finishing with:
 
Whistle while you work ,
Hitler is a jerk ,
Mussolini hurt his weenie ,
Now it doesn’t work .
They stopped turning the rope after Iris finished, all of them realizing that the words no longer held any meaning. They had jumped to the familiar words and tune for as long as they could remember and now, the words meant nothing. Both Hitler and Mussolini were dead.
Kenny came barreling down the street toward them and at the last minute veered away, slamming on his brakes.
“Creep!” Iris hollered.
He crossed the street and got off the bike, taking a bottle of pop out of the bike’s handle basket. He also removed some empty tin cans from the basket, stacking them neatly on the curb.
Sitting down, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and slowly drank his Orange Crush, glancing at the girls now and then, when he thought they weren’t looking.
Although Marianne pretended to concentrate hard on jumping rope, she stole glances to see what Kenny was doing. They continued to jump:
 
In comes the doctor,
      In comes the nurse,
In comes the lady with the alligator       purse…
 
Out of the corner of her eye, Marianne noticed that Kenny was tying the tin cans to the back of his bike with some cord. She stopped jumping and stood with her hands on her hips, the same way she had seen her mother do. She thought it looked ever so grown up. “What are you supposed to be doing?” she yelled. Mimicking their friend, Judy and Iris joined in.
But the boy continued trailing the cans to the end of his bike in a straight line. Finally, he stopped and raised his head. “I’m celebrating the end of World War II.”
The young girls started to laugh. “It’s not over yet, you dummy,” shouted Judy.
“It’s gonna be,” he said, “before the day’s over.”
Iris laughed. “And how do you know? Did the president tell you?” The girls began to jump up and down with glee.
He yelled out, “You better get ready!”
Then, he went too far. “Within the hour,” he said. “You watch.” And with that, he got on his bike and rode up towards Hamilton Avenue.
Marianne looked after him. “He’s so silly,” she said, watching as he disappeared around the corner. They continued jumping, this time jumping Double Dutch with the second rope.
 
Spanish dancer, Spanish dancer, do the splits ,
Spanish dancer, Spanish dancer, dance like this .
 
They had been playing no more than fifteen minutes when fat Mrs. Levi ran onto her front porch and leaned over the railing, ringing a cowbell and screaming at the top of her lungs. The more she screamed, the more she leaned. Marianne was afraid she was going to topple over the rail. Almost at the same time, Marianne’s grandmother came rushing onto her front porch, followed by her uncles, aunts and parents.
The young girls looked on in surprise as people spilled out of the houses and into the street. Marianne’s mother bounded down the steps, laughing and crying at the same time. Dark lines of mascara streaked her cheeks, as she sniffled and hugged her. “Honey, the war is over!” she shouted. “The president just announced it over the radio.”
People ran up and down the street ringing a bell or banging pots and pans together. Many of them began decorating their cars with toilet paper before getting in and roaring off, their horns blaring, the paper flapping wildly as they screeched around the corner and out of sight. Some jumped up and down, as if they didn’t know what else to do. Many hugged and kissed anyone they saw.
Marianne had never before seen grown-ups act this way. She and her friends watched the commotion with their mouths open. Suddenly, she wanted to be a part of it. She motioned