American Girl (Montana)

Lena McDowell drew in her breath and straightened her mini skirt before tugging on the door. She had a tough assignment for the school paper but volunteered for it. In ten days, her hometown was hosting a pioneer day. Her great-grandmother was the oldest living resident in the state of Montana. Although the old woman had a frail mind, she recalled the old days as though they were yesterday. Lena offered to interview her.
Lena entered the nursing home. A receptionist wearing a nurse's uniform smiled welcomingly. Still, the teen girl hesitated. She loved writing stories for the school newspaper but dreaded interviewing. Unlike her twin sister, she was less outgoing. Lorna should have offered to do the interview instead, but she was at the mall with her friends—probably in the video arcade.
"Good morning," the receptionist greeted in a sugary voice. "How may I help you today?"
"I'm here to see Lena Mowbray," the young newspaper reporter stated. "I'm her great-granddaughter."
"Oh, yes." The receptionist rifled through a clipboard filled with paperwork. "You phoned earlier. Mrs. Mowbray is in the garden room. It's along the corridor and to your left."
"Thank you." Lena reached into her handbag to pull out a pad and pencil. Taking a deep breath, she hurried in the indicated direction. As she moved away, she thought she heard the nurse whisper, 'Good luck.'
French doors led into the garden room. Lena's hand hesitated above the door handle. Inside, an old woman sat hunched in a wheelchair. She faced the doorway. Lena noticed her ankle-length dress and the ivory shawl draped over her shoulders. Her white hair scarcely covered her head, and her eyes seemed unclear. A long time had passed since the girl had seen her elderly relative.
Lena had never visited the old lady alone. Usually, the family came during the Sunday visiting hours. During those times, she and Lorna stayed in the background while their parents spoke in quiet tones with the oldest member of their family. Over time, their visits grew further apart. Lorna usually ducked out with excuses about other arrangements.
Depressing the handle, Lena pushed open the door and entered. Her great-grandmother looked at her expectantly, then cast her eyes downward. The teenage girl stood awkwardly in front of her. She didn't know how to begin or what to say.
"Who are you?" the old woman asked, her voice old and unused.
"I'm Lena…Lena McDowell, Granny," she introduced nervously. "I'm your great-granddaughter…Lucy's daughter."
"Lucy who?" The rheumy eyes looked at her suspiciously.
"Lucy McDowell." Lena hesitated, trying to find a way to explain. "Lucy McDowell, who was Lucy Mowbray before she married my father, Frank McDowell."
"Lucy? Lucy?" the great-grandmother mused. Her forehead wrinkles grew deeper. An intermittent time passed. Lena waited patiently. "Lucille. My Ezekiel's Lucille."
"Yes, that's right, Granny. Grandpa Zeke's daughter, Lucille." Lena's voice rose with excitement. "Everyone calls her Lucy."
Lena squatted in front of the wheelchair. Her mini skirt rose slightly, catching the old woman's attention.
"What's that you're wearing, child?" The eyes grew skeptical again. "You should cover yourself up. No one should go around like that, exposing yourself."
"It's 1977, Granny. All the girls dress like this," Lena protested, yanking her skirt further down her thighs.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" the great-grandmother grumbled. "Who did you say you were?"
"I'm Lena." Her voice sounded meek, withdrawn.
"I'm Lena." The old lady proudly straightened her shoulders. "You're not Lena."
"I am so Lena." She rose sharply, standing tall above the hunched woman. Lena instantly felt sorry she had raised her voice. It was unfair to her confused elderly relative. "Mama named me after you. I have a twin sister named Lorna. Don't you remember?"
The old woman seemed to shrink in her wheelchair. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. Lena stood above her, feeling awkward and ashamed. She could leave. Her great-grandmother would return to her aged dream and never remember her visit. Yet, how could she admit defeat? How could she walk away from the interview she promised her school?
Lena squatted again. Grasping the wheelchair's arm, she drew the elderly woman's attention again. She had to remember her great-grandmother was 109 years old. She had lived a long and exciting life. It was that life Lena wanted to talk about.
"I want to talk to you about the old days," the young reporter whispered. "I want to know about your life."
The great-grandmother came alive. Her eyes grew clear, and a smile peeked among her facial wrinkles. Lena pulled a chair closer and sat, eagerly opening her writing pad. The room faced an extensive garden. French doors opened onto a patio, emitting sunlight that brightened the area. It felt calm and relaxing.
"My life began in Wisconsin," Granny stated, her voice clear and crisp. "My sister, Darla, was a happy girl. I remember her smile and her laugh. We walked to school in the mornings and hurried home at night before the sun sank. Bears were in the woods, so we had to rush home before they came out.
"A family built a house close to ours. Pa didn't like neighbors. He packed up our wagon and moved us to Iowa." The old woman shrank back again. She uttered Iowa twice. A tear tracked along her cheek. Lena watched it drop from her chin. "I don't want to talk about Iowa. Darla is still there. We left her in the churchyard. She was so happy, and then suddenly she complained about a headache. Pa helped her to bed, but she never woke up again. I…Iowa. I wish we never went to Iowa."
The alert grandmother disappeared. She slumped in her wheelchair, her eyes muddy again. Lena leaned back, closing her pad. She started to drop it into her handbag when her companion spoke again.
"Beth and Thom were born in Iowa," Granny suddenly stated. "We had to stay. We were poor. Pa worked in the general store, and Ma took in laundry and sewing. I helped her, but I longed for fresh air and sunshine. After Darla died, we seemed to lapse into a dream. The days dragged past while we worked to stay alive.
"Beth brought us a little joy. My little sister couldn't replace Darla, but she gave us something to hang on to. Thom, too." The old woman sat straighter. Her eyes brightened. Lena noticed how blue and sparkly they grew. "Finally, Pa decided we would move to South Dakota. He filed on a 40-acre homestead claim, sight unseen. We went to school, and I became a teacher at seventeen."
Lena leaned forward to capture her great-grandmother's words. Her skirt inched up her thighs again. Hard, sharp eyes riveted on her. Feeling embarrassed, Lena tugged on her clothing.
"We didn't go outdoors naked in my day," Granny remarked firmly. "Our dresses reached out ankles, and our sleeves came to our wrists. We wore petticoats and bloomers, hoop skirts and bustles." Her eyes grew far away, and then she grinned. "I bet you never wore a corset, child."
"A corset?" Lena struggled to recall what that was.
Her great-grandmother cackled at Lena's concentrated expression.
"A confounded contraption if I ever knew one, girl." She laughed again in private amusement. "Whalebone and string. Gosh nab it. How I tried to get out of wearing that blame thing! Ma wouldn't hear of it. When I had that thing on, my Zeke could span my waist with his hands. After my son was born, I wouldn't put the damn thing on again. I'm running ahead of myself, girl.
"I taught the Carter school after I got my teacher's certificate. It was my first and only school, thank heaven. I dreaded teaching and dreaded living with strangers." The faraway look reappeared. "That's where I met Ezekiel Mowbray. Nate Gilbert was seeing me home from school on the weekends. I expect he was my beau for a little while. Zeke was one of my students. It was love at first sight."
Lena sighed, thinking about her first love: Chance Makepeace. She mooned over him through seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth grade. Then he asked Lorna to the homecoming dance. She could always trust her twin sister to ruin things for her. Lorna knew she loved Chance and horned in on him anyway. The old hurt rose in her mind, blocking out the story she came to write.
"Aren't you listening, girl?" Her granny's knobby hand clutched her naked knee. Lena jumped in her skin.
"Yes, um, I'm sorry." Lena flipped a page in her notebook and began writing again. It took her a moment to catch up on her great-grandmother's life story. "You taught school."
"I got married. Pay attention."
"You married Ezekiel Mowbray." Lena wrote it down. "That's Grandpa Zeke's father."
"Now you're catching on."
"I guess I am." Lena chuckled, enjoying herself. Suddenly, Granny was laughing too. They exchanged a glance and, in that moment, bonded. For the first time, Lena realized her old relative was a person, too, not just a lump of flesh slumping in a wheelchair. She felt alive and real. "Tell me more, Granny, please."
"Zeke offered to take a claim near the school, but I refused. I didn't particularly like the school or the Carters. I wouldn't live near them." A mischievous grin crossed the elderly face. "We decided to move to Montana on the spur of the moment. After we married, we packed up our covered wagon and hit the trail. My son—your Grandpa Zeke—was born in just nine months. Ma and Pa followed us after a year or two. We may have started in Wisconsin, but our roots are in Montana."
Lena sat back in her chair and closed her book. She thought of how different things were in the past. Her great-grandmother struggled in a new land. In the old days, they built up the country from scratch and survived on a daily basis. Lena wished she could convey what she had learned to Lorna. Their lives were easy compared to Granny's life.
Closing her eyes, Lena pictured her twin sister leaning against a pinball machine in the mall. Chance Makepeace was banging the flippers, urging the ball through its course. Afterward, they would have pizza and Coca-Cola with the gang. Maybe they would go to the movies and watch Star Wars again. Lena could have gone with them. Instead, she spent her Saturday afternoon in the nursing home.
"What year did you say this was?" Granny asked, her voice growing distant again.
"1977," Lena answered, shouldering her bag and rising.
"1977. My," the old woman sighed. "I have walked this earth a long, long time."
"Yes, you certainly have," Lena agreed. She squatted again and grasped the frail old arm. "You're a living time capsule, and I'm glad." Leaning forward, she kissed the wrinkled cheek.
Lena stood in the corridor, looking into the garden room. The old woman sat slumped in her wheelchair. Her old-fashioned dress hung to her ankles, and an ivory shawl covered her shoulders. Lena imagined she was back in the old days when Montana was young and open to settlers. Tears stood in the girl's eyes—tears of love and heartfelt emotion. She was glad she volunteered for the interview.
Shouldering her bag, Lena walked sedately along the corridor. Outside, she stood on the veranda steps and breathed deeply. She would carry her name proudly for the rest of her days, knowing she shared it with a strong and hearty Montana woman—the oldest living pioneer in the state.