Chapter Five - Love on the Telephone 

Fiedelbaum was to arrive by 9:15 am, after breakfast. Two-Ton had been pacing for the last half hour looking at his watch and checking the grandfather clock to see if there was any discrepancy. “For once, it would be good to see Fiedelbaum on time. He’s got nothing in this game. This phone call could change my whole life,” Two-Ton said to no one in particular.

“Get out of my kitchen; you’re getting on my nerves.” Two-Ton’s mother shooed them outside with her apron. The boys retreated to the porch steps.

Two-Ton and Poobah greeted Fiedelbaum as he meandered into the yard. “What took you so long?” Two-Ton was miffed.

Fiedelbaum smiled. “There was a nip of frost in the air, and it coated each blade of grass with crystals. Each house had frost on the roof. There was much to see. When God creates, you must ‘smell the flowers,’ as the saying goes.”

“Right now, I’m more interested in initiating a lifetime of smelling the fragrance of a woman’s perfume,” Two-Ton blurted.

“Ahh, another one of God’s creations,” Fiedelbaum mused.

“Enough of the small talk. We’re going to be late.” Two-Ton ran to the shed behind which he stored the two fourteen-foot wooden ladders he had built for this occasion. Balancing one ladder on his shoulder, he made a beeline across the yard to the driveway. “You scrawny jokers can take the other one.”

Poobah and Fiedelbaum scrambled to the shed to pick up the last ladder. Each picked up one end of the ladder, but they both stood on the same side. The ladder was heavy and bumped into their legs with each step. It took them a while to figure out the task was easier when they walked on opposite sides of the ladder. Poobah and Fiedelbaum had to change hands several times because their arms hurt. Meanwhile, Two-Ton was racing a block ahead.

“What’s with these ladders?” moaned Poobah as they changed sides once again.

“We need them to climb the telephone pole,” Fiedelbaum replied.

“So, then what?” yelled Poobah trying to project his voice over fourteen feet to Fiedelbaum, whose ears were facing in the wrong direction.

“Two-Ton wants to talk to his girlfriend Mary, who lives a couple of blocks away,” Fiedelbaum yelled back.

“Why doesn’t he call her from home, or go visit her at her place?” Poobah said as they crossed the first street and made their way onto the railway allowance.

“Two-Ton wants her to remember him forever by doing a memorable and moronic thing,” came Fiedelbaum’s voice between grunts. It was time to change arms again.

Poobah couldn’t argue with Two-Ton’s reasoning. People had long memories with regards to stupidity. It’s like the Nickel boy falling into the outhouse pit. Stupid things are the stuff of legends. Two-Ton would be either be the butt of jokes in the Waldheim community for years to come or be known as a hopeless romantic. Either way, Poobah thought, somebody should call a prayer meeting!

“Why is Two-Ton in such a hurry?” Poobah asked.

“The love-sick boy told Mary to be on the line at ten o’clock at her sister’s place,” the panting Fiedelbaum answered. “Mary’s parents don’t have a phone.”

By the time the scrawny boys had crossed the railway tracks and made their way to the street on the other side, Two-Ton was waiting beside a telephone pole. “What do you think, Fiedelbaum?” Two-Ton asked. “Is this a good pole?”

“It looks like the telephone line leads to Mary’s sister’s place,” Fiedelbaum answered.

“I want my ladder to face south. I need to see the house,” Two-Ton said. Together they lifted his ladder on the north side of the pole and the skinny boys’ ladder up on the south side.

Before they climbed into position, Two-Ton gave Poobah a set of earphones. “Here, you can use my second set, which I use when I walk around my room,” he said. “The wires are longer.”

Poobah followed Two-Ton up the ladder. He wanted to be on the north side to see if he could get a glimpse of this girl, who smote Two-Ton with love. Poobah realized he had been in Waldheim too long, as his thought language was becoming Biblical. Who uses the word ‘smote’ any more?

Fiedelbaum and Two-Ton clamped their earphones to the telephone line. “Give me your earphone,” Two-Ton said. As he clipped Poobah’s earphone to the telephone line, he chastised Poobah to “Listen and learn. I’ll teach you the fine points of wooing a woman.” The boys placed one earphone in their ear and held the other as a microphone.

There was a telephone conversation in progress on the party line.

“I’ve got arthritis from top to bottom,” one elderly female voice complained. “Every joint complains. Winter must be just around the corner.”

“You should go to Feyerabend’s store, they sell liniment,” replied the other half of the conversation.

“I only go to Feyerabend’s for the chocolate covered ice cream,” the first voice said. “I get my liniment from the Watkins man. He makes home visits.”

Two-Ton started to laugh as his imagination went where it shouldn’t have gone.

“Cover your microphones,” ordered Fiedelbaum. “They’ll hear us!”

The three boys buried the microphone in their fists. But it was too late, their presence on the line had been discovered.

“Excuse me, the line is busy,” said the second voice sternly.

Two-Ton chuckled again. “Hey Fiedelbaum, make a few liniment home visits to get these women off the line. Pretend you are the Watkins man.”

“Madame,” Fiedelbaum began another one of his impromptu skits with arm and hand gestures. “Arthritis, you say. May I present to you one of our best liniments. It works marvelously on man and beast. Is your good husband home? We could do some testing of this fine product on him, and you could tell us if we are treating man or beast and if it would work for you.”

The boys’ laughter forced them to grip their ladders tightly to keep from falling. The microphones picked up the loud laughter and sent it up and down the telephone line.

“You boys are rude,” scolded the arthritic woman.

Two-Ton was already distracted, seeing Mary leave her house and run towards her sister’s next door. Her hair bounced with each step and blew in the breeze. Two-Ton was in awe. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Two-Ton sighed. The declaration of love sent its desire down the party line.

“Tighten your fist, Two-Ton” Fiedelbaum said in a hoarse whisper.

It was too late. The old women were reminded of days long past and replayed old daydreams. “Who do you think he is talking about, you or me?” one old voice said.

“Does the Watkins man make telephone calls?” asked the other.

“Mary’s too far away to tell,” Poobah said. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Man, I wish these old people would get off the line,” Two-Ton said. “This was supposed to be perfect. It’s two minutes to ten.”

“How could you expect it to be perfect?” Fiedelbaum asked. “You are standing on a ladder leaning against a telephone pole with two friends tapped into an occupied telephone party line wanting to speak to a girlfriend who doesn’t have a phone. What could go wrong?”

A click sounded! Two-Ton took a deep breath and whispered in awe, “She’s on the line.”

“Hello?” Mary tentatively greeted whoever was on the line.

“Hello,” said an elderly voice.

“Who is that?” asked the other party-line voice.

“Is that you, Mary?” asked Poobah.

“Shut up!” said Two-Ton.

“Who me?” Mary asked.

“No, I was talking to Poobah.” Two-Ton quickly changed his tone and began the sweet talk. “Hi, Mary.”

“She must be the Giesbrecht girl.” The party line was now totally engaged.

“Is it you, Norman?” Mary asked.

“Oh, he must be Peter’s son,” the elders on the party line determined.

“This would make more sense if I could be part of the conversation,” Fiedelbaum said. “Hi, Mary. How are things going?”

“Stop interrupting!” Two-Ton was getting annoyed. “I arranged the call. I don’t know why the rest of you are here. That includes the elderly.” His voice moderated, “Where was I, Mary?”

“I think we were still at hello,” Mary replied.

“Hello,” came the party line reply.

“Hello, Mary,” chorused Poobah and Fiedelbaum.

“Yeah, we’re definitely at hello,” Mary said. “Who’s on the line with you, Norman?”

“Frau Friesen und Frau Letkeman,” the party line identified themselves.

“Poobah and Fiedelbaum.”

“Hello, boys,” Mary said. “Hello, Mrs. Friesen and Mrs. Giesbrecht. How are you today?”

“My arthritis is acting up something fierce,” said Mrs. Friesen.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” said Mary.

“What I like is the depth of this discussion,” Fiedelbaum teased. “We’re getting to the nitty-gritty.”

“What does nitty-gritty mean?” the party line responded.

“It means the important part,” Mary shouted over the line.

“Nayo,” came the response.

“How are you?” Two-Ton asked.

“Pretty good,” Mary said.

“Mostly pretty, I bet.” Two-Ton desperately tried to get control of the conversation.

“Bravo,” shouted Fiedelbaum. “Your pickup line was smooth as peanut butter.”

Poobah laughed.

“Oh my… That was a good line,” cooed the party line.

“How can you tell I’m pretty? I’m inside the house,” Mary said.

 “I saw you run to your sister’s place,” Two-Ton replied.

“Where are you anyway?” Mary asked. “How could you see me?”

“We’re on the telephone pole north of your sister’s house,” Two-Ton said.

“Two-Ton has placed you so high on the pedestal, he had to climb a telephone pole to gaze into your eyes,” Fiedelbaum said. “Check it out.”

“I’m going to the window now,” Mary said. She dropped the receiver and rushed to the window. The boys could hear a couple of other telephone receivers drop. There, a half block down the street, stood three boys precariously positioned on two ladders, waving wildly at her. She returned the wave and rushed back to the phone.

“I didn’t know they could climb a pole and talk on the line,” reported the party line. “Amazing.”

“What did she say?” asked Poobah.

“I said you boys are amazing,” the party line cooed.

“We’ll give the Watkins man a call,” Fiedelbaum said. “We’ll send him your way with some liniment.”

“That would be wonderful, cause I’m a hurtin’ woman,” said the old voice.

Mary, in her soft voice, said, “Norman, you planned this all for me?”

“Would the boys on this line get off immediately! I mean, NOW!” A loud, intimidating voice came across the telephone line, causing their ears to ring.

“Who’s yelling?” Poobah asked meekly.

“The telephone operator,” Fiedelbaum said. “Get down. You don’t mess with Mrs. Wall.”

“Aules haft en Enj, bloss ne Worscht nijch. Dee haft twee Enja.” A chorus of laughs cascaded down the party line at their Low German joke.

Two-Ton frantically tried to loosen the clamps of their microphones from the telephone line. The three scrambled down from their perch, hastily took down their ladders, placed them on their shoulders, and began the trek home.

Two-Ton heard his name called from behind. Two-Ton turned, his ladder collided with the other, sending his two friends to the ground. “Watch what you’re doing!” yelled Fiedelbaum.

Mary was standing in her sister’s front yard. “You know you guys are crazy, don’t you?” she yelled.

“We belong to the Morons’ club. We do crazy.” Two-Ton waved, turned for home, his swinging ladder forcing his accomplices back to the ground.

“You’re going to kill us,” Fiedelbaum complained. “What did the party liners say in Low German before we got off the line.” Fiedelbaum only spoke English because his father came from the United States.

Two-Ton, the only one to understand Low German, said, “Everything has an end except a sausage. It has two ends.”

“Well, I think this has got to be a one time ending,” Fiedelbaum said. “There is no way you are going to get a second chance with this one.”

“You told me to listen and learn, this morning,” Poobah said. “I think I learned a great deal from you today.”

“What did you learn?” Fiedelbaum encouraged.

“I will never climb up a telephone pole to clip onto a party line to talk to a girlfriend who doesn’t have access to her phone. Also, ‘woo’ sounds much like a train whistle. ‘Woo, Woo.’ You’re quite the traveling man, Two-Ton. Have ladder will travel.”

“If I was to evaluate this effort,” Fiedelbaum added, “I think it was a pathetic attempt to impress a girl much younger than you. Don’t you think you are robbing the cradle?”

“It sounded like you made a good impression on the party-line ladies,” laughed Poobah. “Perhaps they are available. Perhaps you should get some tips from the Watkins man.”

“Get lost,” Two-Ton said as he stepped up his pace to distance himself from his tormentors.

“You know what would be fun,” Fiedelbaum said, “is to set up a telephone line, one for our exclusive use. It would be only for club members. We wouldn’t have to climb poles or wait for our sister to get off the line. We could answer the phone in our rooms. Wouldn’t it be great? We could call it the Morons’ Club Telephone Company. We’ll have to wait until spring. It’s getting too cold to string the wire.”