Pondo and Sylvia

Pondo and Sylvia

By Kathleen Brosius

           He was a tall man, handsome and rugged. His black hair fell over his ears and his blue eyes sparkled, especially when he gazed upon his beloved Sylvia. Pondo, as he was called, was an old rogue to some. Careless in dress, stubborn to conform to the changing demands of society, he spent most of his time on the river bottoms. He was a commercial fisherman. He bought a plot of land with a gunnysack full of moldy muskrat pelts and $30. Called Mini Park, it was a place for commercial fishermen to store their gear, mend their nets and box traps and get out of a brewing storm. 

           Not far inland, lay the small town of New Albin, nestled close to the bluffs of Northeastern Iowa. The sleepy little town was content to watch the world pass by without too much involvement. But on Saturday nights the lights stayed on, the two taverns rocked, and the boys from the river came to town. They had worked hard during the week and loved to show off the bundle of money that their work rewarded them. They demanded the attention of the town's available girls. Some frequented the bars. A few refused to have anything to do with such places.

           Sylvia was one such girl. Raised in a strict Methodist family, her father protected her from the scoundrels who "mocked the perfection that man was intended to be." Sylvia dutifully studied hard in school. She had worked herself through two years of college and earned a teaching degree. She felt prepared to enter her adult life, a professional, full of energy with the desire to teach the children of the world. Her blond hair was combed neatly away from her face, waves gently kept stray curls in place as it was caught in a bun at the nape of her neck. The style of the 1930's, she looked a picture of profession and content.

           A rainy summer Saturday evening, Sylvia joined her friends at a local restaurant. They were sipping sodas at a table close to a window overlooking Main Street. The girls watched and giggled as several strapping young men stumbled and roared with laughter as they painfully removed themselves from a rusty old pickup.

           The rain slid down the smooth glass in sheets, disfiguring the scene across the street. "Oh, I know who they are, they are the Crowley boys and the May brothers. They come into town every Saturday night. I think they spend the week down on the Islands. They live in some old shacks down there." Aileen was stretching toward the window to see more. “I adore those brothers of mine, but they can worry a girl." Aileen was the younger sister of Ronald and Leon.

           Mae strained her eyes trying to see more clearly. She whispered, "What I wouldn't give to see where they live. Look at that Jeep or whatever it is. I think it’s Pondo's. Aileen, have you ever been down to his place? Oh, there's Joe Crowley and he's comin' this way.” Jumping up and grabbing her purse, she added, “He'll maybe come lookin' for me." she dashed toward the ladies' room to check her hair and makeup. Mae was the prettiest of the four at the table. Her dark hair was cut short and curled naturally around her face. Her blue eyes sparkled, and her full red lips curled up at the thought of Joe courting her.

           Sylvia reached to tuck a loose curl back into place. As she watched the boys stumble across the road, she recognized Pondo. A soft blush began to creep up her slender neck, as she recalled their encounter, a year ago. She remembered the evening that Pondo walked her home. It had been a rainy night, as this night was. He wore the same yellow slicker.

           She had prepared to leave for school in Nebraska. She had been sitting in this very cafe when he caught her eye as he passed. She had smiled and a moment later he was at her side. He bought her a soda, and they chatted and enjoyed their friends’ company until it was time to leave.   Pondo offered to walk her home. The rain had stopped, and they took their time, pausing at the Methodist church steps. Bashful, hesitant, but eager to pursue their relationship, they lingered as the sun dropped behind the hill that loomed over New Albin.

           "Will you be coming home for Christmas Sylvia?" 

           "I don't know," she replied. "Tickets are expensive and I have to save for tuition and books." Pausing, she continued, "I'll try to come home. It's nice to visit with someone who knows who Kipling is. You've read so many books. I love to talk about the world outside New Albin and you know so much. More than I. You should be going to school, not me."

           "No thanks," was his response. "I like to read, I like to learn about the world and what's in all those books, but no thanks to teachers telling me what to do, and tests to take, and especially to having to sit in stuffy school rooms all day. I prefer to be outside. On the river. In my boat."           

            Having just gotten closer to him, she now was leaving the next morning. She had to go. She would not let anything stop her from finishing college. She eased herself off the wide cement step. Pondo, pulled her close. "Pondo, I have to go now," she whispered. "I 've enjoyed the walk and our visit, but please, don't make me wish that I were staying. I can't. I’m leaving for Lincoln in the morning. She pushed away. "I'm sorry, but I can't feel this way. Not yet." She turned and began walking away.

           "Sylvia, wait. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have done that. Let me walk you the rest of the way. I won't stand in your way. I just want to know how you feel. We've known each other for a long time, since we were in Junior High. I've been watching you, waiting for a sign that you are interested. Well, I got that sign tonight. I don't want our relationship to be put on hold. I'll write. I'll come see you. I want you...Sylvie."

           She turned and saw his blue eyes shining in the twilight. His dark hair tangled from the wind and rain. She never expected someone like Pondo to notice her. Yet here they were. They had just shared an intimate moment. She was afraid of what she felt. Confused, she stepped toward him. Stopping, she reached for his hand. "Pondo...Ronald..., I do care. I would like to keep in touch with you. And I will miss you." She looked into his eyes a long moment, then both allowed a smile to form on their lips.

           Turning again toward home. They walked saying nothing.

They exchanged a few letters and phone calls. Pondo traveled to visit Sylvia. She made it home for Christmas and their relationship continued to blossom. Pondo built his commercial fishing business with his brothers. Sylvia graduated and began teaching at a country school in Allamakee County. Their relationship grew and they found themselves deeply in love.

They married in 1938 in Dubuque, IA. Her sister Goldie and her husband Dutch witnessed the ceremony.

           He took her hand as their daughter focused the camera. Fifty years had passed. This was their Golden Wedding anniversary. A special cake was waiting on the table. A few greeting cards were scattered around a vase full of spring flowers. A pretty frame held a photograph. Pondo held her close, Sylvia’s arm circled his waist. They were young and beautiful. Sylvia picked the picture up and studied the two people looking back at them. “That was a long time ago.”

           Pondo smiled and slipped his arm around her. I love you Sylvie. I always have, I always will.

She lay her head on his shoulder and nodded. “Me too.”