Philadelphia 1918

Saturday, September 28, 1918

Today, we went to the big parade! I got to sit on Father’s shoulders for a while to wave at men with instruments and dancing ladies. Father put me down after a few minutes and told me I’m too big to sit on his shoulders anymore. My brother tried to climb up a lamp post to see the parade over all the other people, but Mother made him climb down.

When the soldiers walked by, everyone gave them a salute. When the big tanks rolled by, my little sister tried to run out into the street after them. Mother stopped her before she got lost in the crowd. My sister cried the whole time after that, but I could barely hear her over all the shouting and music.

Father bought some papers from the government. He promised they will turn into money later. Mother pointed out the older school girls in their white dresses and told me I would get to march in the parade like that one day.

Monday, September 30, 1918

The teacher let us play outside today because the weather was so nice. We were all talking about the parade, but Dr. Botkin’s son said we were stupid for going because of the flu. That made one of my friends cry, so the teacher made him go inside and leave us alone.

My brother and I played cards this evening. I had never won before, but I won twice. He let me gloat for a while, and he didn’t even try to stop me. He looked sad and tired, so I spent the rest of the evening telling him stories about princes and dragons and bugs to cheer him up. He fell asleep after a while. I couldn’t wake him up, so I covered him in his favorite blanket and left him on the couch.

Tuesday, October 1, 1918

They came for my brother.  

I woke up when the men in masks knocked on the door. Father helped them carry my brother and put him in a wagon, wrapped in his blanket. I couldn’t see his face. When I asked where he was going, Father just yelled until I stopped asking. Mother locked herself in her room, and I could hear her praying and coughing through the walls.

Father didn’t let me go to school. I sat by the window with my sister waiting for the men to bring my brother back, but I only saw more men taking more people with blankets out of our neighbors’ homes.

When the hospital wagon rolled by in the afternoon, Father asked if they would take Mother with them. The driver said there was no room at the hospital and kept the horses moving.

In the evening, I could hear horses and wagons on the street and our neighbors’ shouting and crying, but Father just shook his head when I asked what was happening. He said I should say my prayers, but we haven’t been to church for so long, I don’t remember them.

My sister has been so quiet since my brother left. She didn’t want to eat today. I miss my brother, too, but I still ate supper. Tonight, I’m snuggling up with my sister in her bed. Maybe she’ll feel better tomorrow. She’s so warm.

Thursday, October 3, 1918

They came for Mother.

She hadn’t left her room since my brother left, and Father wouldn’t let me inside to see her. I had to do all the cooking and cleaning, but I wasn’t very good at it. I could barely reach the stove, and I burned myself twice. Father shouted at me to be quiet when I cried, but he stopped when blood started pouring out of his nose.

When the men took Mother away this morning, Father locked himself in the room where she had been. He never answered when I asked questions through the door.

One of the good Sisters from St. Agatha’s knocked, and she asked if we needed anything when I answered. I asked her if she could help me remember my prayers so I could say them and make Father happy. The Sister only stayed for a few minutes, then she went to visit my neighbors.

I watched through the window for most of the day. Down the street, I could see my schoolmate’s house. Her mother had been standing in the yard earlier, but I could see her lying down next to the street. She wasn’t moving.

My sister laid in bed all day coughing. She didn’t even cry when I told her that Mother had gone. But I did.

Sunday, October 6, 1918

They came for my sister.

I knew they were coming because she has been still for two days. The bed we shared was cold, and she didn’t respond when I tried to snuggle up next to her. I have been sleeping on the kitchen floor now. Lying next to her and not hearing her breathing was too hard.

Father watched them take her away, but he didn’t look at me at all before he went back into the room and locked the door. I could hear him coughing and speaking quietly. He was talking to Mother as though she were in the room with him.

I spent the day at the window, watching the men take more people away. The road was blocked on one end by big wooden boxes. There were shapes covered in blankets next to them. I saw a hand sticking out of a blanket, and I made myself look away. My schoolmate’s mother is still lying by the street. No one has given her a blanket.

I’ll stay by the window to sleep because I don’t want to go back into my room. There are too many flies, and I miss my sister.

Friday, October 11, 1918

They came for Father.

He had been coughing since my sister left, but finally he stopped. I don’t remember exactly when. It was a few days ago. Someone must have complained about the smell, but I hadn’t noticed. The house smelled like the street outside, and I was accustomed to it by now.

I thought they’d take me, too, but the men who took Father left me alone. One looked at me with kindness and offered a short prayer, then he closed the door behind him.

There is nothing left to cook, not since the day before yesterday. The food I left at Father’s door is covered with bugs. At first, I was hungry, but I’m not anymore.

Saturday, October 12, 1918

I’m alone now. When I cough, there’s blood. Everything hurts.

They’ll come for me next.