Tuesday, June 30, 1914
Dear Diary, it is still raining a little bit and it’s cold outside. I don’t mind, really, because when it is hot outside, it is boiling hot in our flat.
I can’t sleep because I keep on thinking that I need to get a job. I told Stefan about what happened at the clothing factory and he told me that it is the law that children can’t work until they’re fourteen. I told him he was wrong because there are definitely girls younger than me working there.
He said that they must have brought a note from their parents.
This doesn’t help me, though, because my parents don’t want me to work and they would not lie about my age. Besides, neither of them could write the letter in English.
Speaking about Stefan, his flat is one half of a large room. There’s a cloth hung from a clothesline separating it from the other half of the room. I could hear someone snoring over there. Stefan said that his parents rent out the other side to a night shift worker. When his older brothers lived at home, they kept the whole flat, but it is too expensive for just the three of them. (So I guess I didn’t do anything bad by being in Stefan’s flat because we weren’t really alone, right?) His parents are hoping to save enough money to bring Stefan’s uncle and aunt over. One ticket is fifteen dollars and
Before bed
Sorry about that, Dear Diary. Baba let out a huge shriek and scared me. She was rolling out the pyrohy dough when a big black mouse ran up her skirt and onto the table. This is the first time I have seen one in broad daylight. You would never know Baba has a bad knee by the way she chased that poor thing around the room.
Baba and I cleaned the flat from top to bottom but we couldn’t find the mouse. It is near dark now. Mykola is asleep but I keep thinking I can see mouse eyes.
Oy, I almost forgot to tell you about the thing Stefan does to save money for his family. He walks along the railway track and picks up coal for the stove. I must try this.
July 1914
Wednesday, July 1, 1914
Today is Dominion Day, which means it is Canada’s namesday. I only know that because there’s a sale at the store and they are calling it a Dominion Day sale. It doesn’t seem to be a holiday and there are no parades.
When Tato came home from the chytalnya tonight, I finally got up the nerve to ask him if he would sign a letter stating that I was old enough to work. He didn’t say anything for a minute or so. Then he gathered me onto his knee like he used to when I was little. He buried his face in my hair and it almost sounded like he was crying. “My dear Anya,” he said. “Try to be a child for just a little bit longer.”
Friday, July 3, 1914, lunchtime
I helped Stefan with the papers again this morning and then we went up to the roof to read one of the unsold copies. Reading the paper is hard, but it is a good way to practise my English. Sometimes I read it out loud and Stefan corrects me. I was so surprised to see a story about “Ruthenians,” which is another word for our people, like “Galicians” and “Bukovinians.” This story said that the government was upset because of all the “Ruthenians” who can’t find a job. Some cities have even been setting up soup kitchens. That’s sort of like the milk depot, only with soup. It sounds nice, but it isn’t. The story says that people who go to the soup kitchens will be “deported,” which means sent back to the old country.
What if this happened to us? We are pennies away from disaster. I pray that Mama and Tato can keep their jobs. If we were deported, that would be the end of us! We have nothing left in Horoshova. We sold it all. Oy. I am so worried.
Tuesday, July 7, 1914, bedtime
I haven’t seen Stefan for a few days but he came to our flat today to show me another article in the newspaper. He knows that I like to read stories that mention our people. This article said, “Ruthenian vote may sway election in Manitoba.”
!?!?!?
Stefan explained to me that there are thousands of Ukrainian men in Manitoba who can vote. Isn’t that wonderful? It does get me worried, though. If they sway the vote the wrong way, will other voters get angry with them?
Friday, July 10, 1914
A letter came all the way from Horoshova just for me. It is from my dear Halyna. I have pasted it into my diary.
May 25, 1914
Dearest Anya,
I miss you so much. I hope you find the time to write to me soon.
Horoshova seems empty without you. I think of you living in that beautiful big house with lots of food to eat and plenty of money. I am happy for you, but I have a confession too. I am jealous.
When I get very sad, I take out Volodymyr’s tsymbaly and play a simple tune. It makes me cry but then somehow I feel better. How I wish I could come to Canada and be with you.
It is not good here. The lord has increased our taxes yet again and Father does not have the money to pay. Do you remember Pan Smitiuch, our teacher? He has joined the Austrian army. There is no one to teach the older students now, although I have been asked to work with the younger ones. I am not educated like Pan Smitiuch, but I do the best I can. As the days go on, it seems like Horoshova is turning into a village of women. The men who don’t die in the coal mines either flee to Canada or join the army. How I wish everyone would leave Horoshova alone.
I don’t want to make you feel bad, so I will tell you of happier things. The flowers are blooming and our cow Chorna gave birth to a beautiful pink-nosed calf. I am calling her Kvitka because she reminds me of the flowers. I planted fresh flowers at Volodymyr’s grave and also for your dido. I have decided to adopt these graves and treat them like family, since we were almost family in life.
I hope that you can write to me soon. I think of you every day and send you my love.
Your best friend forever,
Halyna
Dear Diary, I hope I haven’t ruined your pages with my tears. I was so happy to get a letter from Halyna, but now I am not so sure. I am so worried about her and also worried for everyone in Horoshova. It sounds like she didn’t get my letter yet. She must think that I have abandoned her. Oy, I am so sad.
I hope my letter gets to her soon. I told her all the horrible details about our trip on the ship and where we live. I even told her about our stinky outhouses and how much I miss Horoshova. Maybe when she reads it she won’t be as sad. She shouldn’t be jealous either.
Wednesday, July 15, 1914
Dear Diary, today is Volodymyr’s namesday. At breakfast, Baba put out an extra plate and then we all held hands and sang “Vichnaya Pamyat.” I could feel my throat choking up with sadness as I sang, but I didn’t want to cry because I know that would make Mama cry too. We are trying to remember all the joy that Volodymyr brought into our lives. Tato says there is no point in dwelling on the sadness. One thing that I will always be grateful for is that my dear brother taught me how to read and write, and Halyna too. It is such a comfort to me to be able to keep in contact with her. Just think, if Volodymyr had not taught me how to write, Tato would never have given me you, Dear Diary.