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There were seven of the Blithe Boys as everyone called them, even though their last name was West. The whole West family was infamous to the people of Blithe given the fact that Mr. West's great grandfather founded it. Blithe was a small quaint town holding about a hundred in southwestern Illinois. It was a modest place with only necessary buildings and structures like a school, bank, post office, grocery store, doctor's office, (the firemen and authorities were volunteered citizens on hand) and a few others. Main Street ran through it and was the only way in or out of Blithe. It was also the only paved road at the time.
Just before summer set in, my parents and I made our way to that small town, which was about five miles in all directions from greater civilization. The year was 1960, and mother had petitioned the idea of getting away from the stifling city of Chicago. Father agreed and we left. Being fifteen then and set in my ways and friends I had to be dragged, kicking and crying into that cramped old car. Few words were spoken on the long drive until we pulled up to the large two story farm house just off of Main Street. It was on the  outskirts of town and the only things I saw surrounding the used-to-be-gleaming-white paint-chipped house was wheat rolling into the scattered trees a half a mile or so at the back. I could tell this place must still be celebrating the end of the war; it was nothing like the progressive city I left behind.

    Ten minutes into our unpacking a plump older woman came tottering up the dirt driveway which was slightly sloped and hardly graveled. Her hair was dark and piled onto her head. The knee-length full petticoated pink dress she wore flounced up and down as she walked. Her lipstick was thick and sickeningly bright. She carried a plate of something that I could not make out from my concealed position behind the stacked boxes and trunk of the car. My mother came out to greet her but the woman spoke first, "Well hello!”
 "Hi," said my mother slightly unsure of the woman's cheeriness.
"Oh we are all so glad you're here so I brought you a shrimp mold to welcome you and your family." She had some kind of accent that I couldn't place but I knew it wasn't too foreign. Mother still hinted at bewilderment as she took the strange jiggling plate, "Thank you very much Ms...?"
 "Oh my goodness! How could I? Honeychurch, Betty Honeychurch. But call me Betty, please!"
It seemed like every word she said was practically screamed at mother, who seemed slightly flustered now by the firm handshake she received from Mrs. Honeychurch. Just then my father came out of the house toward the awkward scene taking place. Another stiff handshake and father introduced mother and he, "Hello Mrs. Honeychurch I think I heard?". Betty nodded and smiled in a strange way at him. "I'm Allen Anderson, and of course my wife Janet. It's so nice to meet you, it's more than we expected."
 "You can definitely expect a lot more than wherever you both have lived. This town is the swellest of them all and that's a promise!" She winked at the last word and then burst into loud laughter.
 Both of my parents looked uneasy now as they tried to laugh along. I stood stalk still and prayed I wouldn't somehow be dragged into this awful welcome. I was truly frightened to meet Mrs. Honeychurch, who then asked, "So is it just you two cuties?"
"No, no," replied my father, "we have a daughter in tow, probably putting her things in her new room. She's fifteen, and we have another daughter who's eighteen. We probably won't see much of her since she's back in Chicago, starting college."
 "I can tell it's tearing you up inside Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, I bet it's terrible. But I wouldn't know George never wanted children," she openly reminisced, "Although, the more I meet the less sad I feel about it." She again sprang into laughter at her own dumb attempt of a joke, "Oh but anyways you all have some wonderful neighbors. George and I are, of course, towards town," she turned and pointed left, "And the West family just across the road and a tad right. I'm sure Mrs. West will be over soon. Her boys are coming home in a week so she's quite busy, but I'm sure she'll have time to meet you all. Well, I am so sorry darlings but I have to go and finish the laundry and whatnot. I'll leave you to your new home and boxes." She laughed more, waved, and tottered back down the dirt path.
"Well, that was...," my father stumbled for the most polite words to say but mother found one, "interesting."
They both stood there silently for a moment and watched Mrs. Honeychurch waddle down the road in her pink high heels until she was out of sight.
 I let out a small sigh because I was saved the horror of meeting that queer woman. If everyone in this town was like that I would be on a one-way back to Chicago by morning. Maybe I was placing too high of a standard on these new people but I would be damned if the rest of my normal adolescence was ruined in Nowhereville. Thank Jesus I wasn't forced to attend the last week of school for the Blithe children. Apparently the school is a one-room and that was enough to make me protest the thought of going for a meager five days.
    Mother turned on her heel and proceeded into the house with the Plate of Mystery. My father walked over to where I stood like a statue. I quickly grabbed a box marked photos to look busy. All he could do was give a wry smile and, "I noticed you suddenly disappeared Anne. You should have met our new neighbor. She's very promising."
I was slightly comforted again by his use of my nickname, (as if Andy wasn't short enough, then why did they even bother with Adrianne?) I smirked but I could see the same feeling I had about Mrs. Honeychurch in his eyes. It was humourous yet worry-some at the same time, I only wonder what mother thought of the encounter.
Father took a box of our silver wares into the open door of the house and I followed with the photo box. This was the first time I had even walked into the looming old house. The floors were all wooden and creaky as I stepped through the entryway that led immediately into the spacious living room. I could only assume it was since there was a huge fireplace on the back wall and to the right was the also spacious kitchen. All I could smell was the scent of musty wood throughout.
    Overall the rooms were much bigger and old-fashioned than the apartment in the city. There was a black wood or coal burning stove in the kitchen, the room which almost took over the size of the sitting room. For a moment I wondered if there was electricity available for the television or if there was even a phone or running water. This house held no reminders of Chicago and that thought turned me stiff.
Apparently some thing had been dropped on the floor and I tripped all the way down. The smash of my arm and face to the floor shook me up. The fall knocked the box to the wood with me and scattered photos all around. No one was around to see. I picked myself up to the sitting position and looked about me at the mess of memories, rubbing my check. Baby pictures, school pictures, friends, family, and even my sister Jean's graduation pictures lay on the cold hard floor. Everything we'd left behind. As if we had been banned or segregated from the joys of the lively city. Suddenly, uncontrollably, the tears ran down my face. I even let out a yelp for the old comforts. Faster and faster they came, making my black shirt wet and snot dripped down from my pink nose. Finally my mother appeared, dropping down to a knee to get me to my feet, all the while hushing me quietly. She held my head close against her chest until I finished. Her hand came down and sopped some of the tears off my cheek. There was, for once, an unspoken understanding between us.
"I know we've asked a lot from you Anne but you are going to make it through this too. I promise. Just do this for your father and I. It's new for us too," mother said softly. Her red blouse was stained darker with my tears. Yet there was not a single wrinkle in her clean and pressed outfit, even if we had been sitting in the hot car for nine hours.  
We began to pick up the photos and pile them back into the box. Mother shoved it against the wall and put another box marked linens on top of it.
She then looked at me and said, "Now go pick out which room you want upstairs. I think your father's already found ours but there are three others to choose from."
I nodded, grabbed a box I recognized as one of mine, and walked to the back left of the living room to the stairs. It sounded like they would fall through into the cellar as I stepped up each stair.
At the top was a short walkway where I had to go around back like a U-turn and then a right and I was faced with a long hallway. It was dark except for the small window at the very end. Father had picked the roomed on the first left, (probably for safety reasons, Tas if we were living in a place anything like the city). Their door was the only one open with a box or two on the large bed. I found it strange there was even a bed since usually people take them with them before they sell their house. We planned on sleeping on the floor until we bought our beds, since we didn't have room for them in the car. In fact, we were pretty much empty of large furniture of any sort. Father already had things like a dining table and chairs and beds on order from the Sears catalog. I guess he'd have to call about the bed situation in the morning.
I continued on to the bedroom across from them and opened the door. This room was smaller but had the best view and features. It was positioned at the center of the house and had a tall window that was almost the size of a door which led out to an onning. Kind of like a covered porch for the second story with white columns and a posted railing that ran the length of it. The porch went along the whole second story front. This was the first exciting discovery since we got here, until father came up the stairs and poked in my claimed room. "Hey I was thinking, you could probably take to the sleeping porch out back for the rest of summer. It would be so much cooler than up here." He must have noticed my slight frown that I tried to conceal, "I know I know this one is neater than down there but just think of the privacy from you-know-who."
I smiled, "Alright, you bought me with that one." I realized how easily I could betray mother especially after the heart-to-heart we had just had. But I knew that it was only a matter of time until she's be suffocating me again, trying to "make me a good lady and wife". I hated sewing and cooking and doing laundry, and mother had warned me this was my last summer of freedom. I would cherish it too as far away from her if I could help it.
 I dropped off the box in my pseudo-room and went to discover the other rooms. They ended up looking just like mine and my parents, only even smaller. In the window of the room that looked like mine I saw two more strangers bustling up the drive to where my parents were, taking mother's antique bureau off the top of the car. The newly arrived man and woman came to their aid before a word of introduction was exchanged. There wasn't a chance in the world I would go down and endure the scene of ill repute that had occurred not even thirty minutes before.
Instead I went back to the room I had picked and fell backwards onto the twin bed mattress. Dust flew up. I watched it settle, hearing the faint voices down below. When I stretched around I felt the sharp prickles of the feather down mattress. Questions like How long has this house been empty? and What about spooks? went through my thoughts. Then the house gave a little creak, almost as if it was sighing. I sat up quickly hating myself for scaring me too easily. Now I would eagerly accept the comforts of the sleeping porch since the sounds of the desolate nighttime might drown out the eerie house noises. I laid back down cautiously and slowly nodded off.
After a while the voices outside died off and I looked through the window to confirm. The sun was starting to set. It was probably dinner time. I slid off the bed, still in a daze. The house was silent. Trying to be as quiet as I could, I slinked down the stairs. I didn't want to rouse anyone if they were napping also. When I got to the kitchen I realized no one was even home. I went to the locked front door but I noticed the note posted to it before I could open the white door.
    Went to Mr. and Mrs. West's house across road for dinner. We'll bring back something or there's shrimp Jell-O mold in the fridge. -Dad
 A simple cartoon face with a squiggle line for a mouth graced the end of the last sentence. I laughed to myself and decided to inspect this hanus new dish in the refrigerator.
It stunk up the whole ice-box with a fishy odor. I covered my nose and became curious enough to jab the pink item with my finger. It shook in a violent way. I rubbed my contaminated finger on my trousers and shut the otherwise empty refrigerator door. I'd pretty much lost my appetite after that so I decided to explore the house's surroundings.
There was a door at the back wall between the stairs and the big fireplace. It led to the screened in porch which was spacious enough to be a parlor. There were odd articles laying on the floor next to the boxes. Old LIFE and Time magazines along with typewriter paper and yellowed newspapers littered the wood floor. None of the mess was ours I could tell. I picked up a newspaper with the faint date that said Septe b r, 4  928. There were letters and numbers missing but I was sure the year had said 1928. The paper was over thirty years old! I was shocked at how it hadn't decayed wholly yet. Who was the previous owner of the house? Questions like that ran through my head with no answers. I wasn't sure there ever would be. It looked as if there had been an economic downturn and a war since someone was even living here, but who could tell? I moved on to pick up a few sheets of used typing paper. The sheets were crumpled and water-stained, the ink was faded. One read:
    "There upon the thick grass played the strong coney,
    His legs opened and pressed off the ground, sweet dew flying behind,
    In the air a visible change occurred that was hard to mark,
    Steps away the smaller leveret switched its nose, oblivious,
    The buck touched the ground and jumped again, knowing its aim,
    Upon her he landed, taking no chances but understanding its purpose,
    Nothing forsaken, everything changed."
An odd poem I was sure I knew the content matter. Beautiful writing, but it made me uncomfortable reading it, even to my self.
 Just then, what I assumed was the front door, opened. I quickly threw down the rest of the meaningless papers and folded the poem up. I pulled open the door and walked back into the main house after stuffing the folded paper in my pant pocket. "Hello? Oh, there you are Andy," came my father's smooth voice, "We brought back some chicken, carrots, and mashed potatoes. It's still warm too. Here."
He handed me the cooling plate with plastic wrap. I gave a simple thank you and then searched for the box labeled silverware for a fork. My parents and I sat on the front porch to watch the sun set while I ate. Mother chimed in about the new neighbors they had eaten dinner with, "They were so swell weren't they honey?" My father looked at her, "Yes, yes, the Wests are certainly good and respectable company for us, dear,"  "This town seems like it will be just what we need, safe, friendly, and of coarse, pleasant." She sounded like someone out of a movie, yet I was at ease now with both of their approvals about our new homestead. The real test tomorrow though would be going into town.
 After a few more casual statements were said, my mother sprang up and almost screamed, "Allen! Get up, we have to find the candles and the flashlights since the lights are all burnt out!" I hadn’t even finished my dinner, but I abandoned the plate as the three of us flew inside to the boxes. The screen door slammed behind me. It was a race for daylight time now. We delved into every single brown cardboard piece for our only source of light. Finally, before the last rays of the sun went beneath the horizon father found the vital supplies in the last box. Along the search we took out the necessary items for going to bed tonight in comfort. Since my cot hadn't been set up on the back porch I slept upstairs in the bedroom I had already tried out. There wasn't much to see in the dim light or do so I went to bed early.