Sophie Ruskay

“ Friends came to spend a social evening, but invariably brought with them their musical instruments—bass fiddle, cello, violin, clarinet—and stacked them on a bed or on chairs. Everyone cheerfully pushed the parlor furniture about, carried the music stands from the closet under the hall stairs, switched lamps from there to here for better lighting. There was talk, gossip of the great ones, a little politics and world affairs, but mostly music.
Judy went to her room shortly after the first pleasant greetings were over. ”

“ It’s warm! It’s like swimming in a bathtub.” Judy grimaced with keen disappointment. Her eyes were burning and her nose was itching. “And it’s full of chlorine,” she added indignantly.
“You’ll get used to the chlorine and the temperature is divine. We ordinary folks love it. Come on, you polar bear, I’ll race you to the end of the pool.”
They enjoyed the swimming, but Judy soon tired. “I can’t understand it, Lynne,” she said, breathing like a whale, “I usually can swim a half-hour without feeling it. ”

“ Judy shook her head. “You see, darling as he is, he doesn’t take me seriously either.”
Karl laughed. “I like that grandfather of yours. He just wants you to make up your own mind. You still have lots of time to decide. But it’s a long, hard road. A true artist lives only for his art.”
“That’s just the trouble with it. There’s so much I want to see and do, not just be a person dedicated to art! Take my mother and father. They live for their art!” Judy grimaced, “Some day when father’s old, forty-five or fifty, perhaps he’ll get recognition! Everyone says Mother has a wonderful voice. ”

“ Fran told the crestfallen Judy, who had envisaged a gilded palace.
Seated at a longish wooden table, each studied the oversized menu card. Next to such tempting items as sizzled hamburgers with Western trimmings, steak hunter style, and the like were pictures of once famous mines and in fine print, the history of Leadville. Judy, her appetite for the printed word unimpaired, read avidly while munching her food.
“The population of Leadville, once sixty-five thousand, has dwindled to five. Look, here’s a picture of Matchless that Horace Tabor gave to Baby Doe!” ”

“ They stood on the porch a moment. The sky was heavy with stars brightened by the crescent moon. It was so wonderful to be together away from the prying eyes of others. They walked arm in arm down the silent street, absorbed in their thoughts.
Judy wondered about her mother; her recent turnabout, her surrender. We love each other. Why do we hurt each other so often? She glanced at Karl. His face was serious. Had it anything to do with the news he wished to tell her?
When they reached the Chairlift, Karl’s face brightened. “Let’s sit here. This is where we ate our first sandwich together.” ”

“ Karl was deep in thought, analyzing, as was his nature, all that Judy so impetuously revealed. “I don’t think you really understand your mother, Judy,” he said. “She possesses that inner fire that drives her on. She’s probably far happier than you think. I’m willing to say, without knowing her, that excepting her family, singing is the biggest thing in her life.” Judy seemed unimpressed. “What are your parents’ names?” he asked.
“Lurie. My father’s John and my mother, Minna.”
“Your father is John Lurie? I’ve heard him play. The students worship him. He’s a wonderful violist! ”

“ Her father’s eyes shone with the adulation he felt for this great artist. “He’s to be the soloist at several of the Festival concerts. You’ll be with us, Judy—something you’ll remember all your life!”
Nor was her mother to be outdone. “Judy, you’ll never know how wonderful the clarinet can be until you hear Reginald Kell! When he plays, his tone more nearly resembles the human voice than anything in the world—so delicate, so pure! He’s the greatest, the most celebrated clarinetist!”
They tried to interest her in Darius Milhaud, the greatest living composer of modern music. ”

“ I’m sorry, Karl,” Judy’s voice trembled.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about any more. What happened to my father was the fate of six million others! Just because they were Jews and other brave ones who dared to risk their own lives to help them!”
He turned to Judy as if to brush away these thoughts. “Even my mother could not dwell on her miseries. When Uncle Yahn asked us to come to America, we were glad. I was even happy.”
72
He got up, then sat down again. “I never talk about that which has happened. One cannot forget. The present is to be lived—the future lies before us. ”

“ Lynne said dryly, “but never mind. Have it your own way.”
They walked on to examine the few remaining houses. Except for the ruins of a fence and an upside-down hut that was probably once an outhouse, nothing remained to indicate that people once lived there.
“Ashcroft is sure a ghost town,” they both agreed.
They started to trudge back. They had gone further than they expected and found the walking hard and tiring. When they stopped once or twice to rest, they thought they heard the unmistakable chop chop of an ax. ”

“ They knew how much the moonlight could ease it for those who, guided only by lantern, must make the steep, hazardous climb to reach them!
In one of the quiet lulls between sleep and wakefulness, Judy, no longer able to bear the increasing pangs of hunger as well as the weight of silence said, “I know a poem. It’s called ‘The Trail’ and it’s symbolic too. My grandfather wrote it for my grandmother.”
“Good,” Marian drawled from under her heap of jackets. “We’re the helpless victims. We’ll listen.” ”

“ Lurie carried the inert and almost helpless Minna to her bed. She was suffering now from a chill and Judy, without having to be told, fetched the hot water bottle and extra blankets.
She returned to the parlor and stared at the empty chairs, the shining music stands, the blaze of lights. She began pacing the tiny room. All these weeks she hadn’t given a thought to her mother, thought only of Karl. She murmured an inarticulate prayer—“Oh, God, don’t take away her voice. She’ll die if she can’t sing.” Her mother’s words spoken weeks ago beat upon Judy’s memory. ”

“ Small tensions exist everywhere. Parents are only human.”
“I don’t exaggerate, Karl. Believe me, there’s always something to argue about! If it isn’t clothes, and their taste is awful, then it’s money! You’re either a spendthrift or a miser. If you happen to hate math, they think you should make a special effort and deliver A grades. Your reading is either childish or far beyond your years. They disapprove of your best friend and look aghast when at the age of fourteen you wish to go to a party to which boys are invited!” Judy shook her head solemnly. ”

“ Judy said haltingly. “He has his own student ticket, but I asked him to have dinner with us so that we could all—”
“Karl?” her father asked. “You know him, Minna?”
Mrs. Lurie shook her head. “And why to dinner?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.
“You remember, Mother. He’s the music student I told you about. Studies the violin. He lives with his uncle who owns the Swiss Shop. I tried to tell you—” Judy said, almost in tears.
“That’s all right. Only I wish you wouldn’t be so impulsive. However, since you’ve asked him,” her mother added with a smile, “there’s nothing more to be said.” ”

“ Judy stood in the circle and except for a hollow “Hello, Marian,” had been too numb to say anything. Her heart was sore with all her useless, foolish planning. As her grandmother remarked when an irrepressible neighbor invaded her privacy with stupid visits and more stupid conversation, “This neighborhood was always so lovely. Now she has to move next door. There’s always a fly in the ointment!”
Mr. Lurie was laughing at something Marian was saying. He turned to Fran, “Maybe you’re right about the stylish outfit, but why didn’t you tell Marian to wear heavy shoes?” ”

“ You’ll never be anything! You’re finished!”
“Augusta,” Tabor spoke with sorrowful dignity. “I have made you rich. I’ve given you mines. You want more money, very well! Only I will have Baby Doe....” And he clasped the silent clinging figure closer to him.
Augusta rose to her full height, like an angry prophetess of old. “She’s after your money, your fortune. And when that is gone, she’ll leave you! Some day when you are ragged and poverty-stricken, you will wake up. Wake up!”
Judy felt someone shaking her arm. “Wake up!” ”

“ Again she thought of what her grandmother had said. “Your father and mother will be busy all day with rehearsals, teaching, concerts, parties night and day. Why not spend the summer with us as you’ve done for years? You love the sea, racing the dog on the beach. I need you in the garden and your cousins will be back again for a visit. The youngsters on the block want you to teach them to swim—fifty cents a lesson.”
Why, then, Judy wondered, had she given up so quickly a summer where she had been so happy in the past? Of course going to Aspen meant a trip to the West, to Colorado, the Rockies. ”

“ Lurie continued, letting his arms drop beside him, “you get an incomparable view from Pike’s Peak driving up in a car or bus. No, it isn’t the view alone.”
“It’s like a dare or a challenge, isn’t it?” Fran said. “You set out to do what you know is hard and tough. Maybe reach a peak no one ever saw before. You don’t go out for the pleasure of the kill as a hunter does. You’re making a new trail of following someone else’s who had dared before you. And when you’ve done it, boy, you feel good!”
“That’s about it, Fran. You’ve conquered one of the difficulties Nature constantly presents. ”

“ She worked hard to get everything done and yet find time for her arduous profession. She had set herself the task of singing in opera, a dream possible of realization here at Aspen, but she doggedly pursued her domestic tasks. For breakfast she whipped up some wonderful pancakes and for sheer quantity consumption, Judy held the family record. Lunch was tuna fish, an egg, or a salad, usually prepared by Judy for herself. Dinners meant hamburgers or chops broiled over their outside grille, with soup and vegetables frozen or out of a can, milk, and fresh fruit. ”

“ Tempers cannot remain at fever pitch all day. Judy was sorry, ashamed of her outburst. If her mother had only understood how much Karl meant to her! To forbid a last walk together—she would appeal to her father. No, that was useless. She knew her parents always supported each other—family discipline! ”

“ For the first time Judy was critical of her new, much-prized friend. Idealists didn’t worry about money. “Is that all that matters? Money?”
“Yes, money is important,” Karl said emphatically. “My mother works at a music shop. She spends two hours and more each day traveling on the subway. When she gets home at night, tired as she is, there’s dinner to prepare, things to do in the house, people to see—a few friends. Concerts, of course. Someone I should hear—always my interests guide her. So it’s up to me to do well in my studies, in my music, and earn a little money to justify her sacrifice. ”

“ Mrs. Lurie added, following her own train of thought, “please don’t wear that skirt again until I’ve taken inches off the hem. It’s bad enough without trailing your ankles.”
Mrs. Lurie gave a noncommittal grunt as she packed bathing suits and caps into a zippered bag. Judy put on the shorts and blouse without any audible objection and stood near the mirror.
“In this sort of thing you’ll have to admit, Mother, everyone looks alike. But a skirt like my plaid gives one a certain air—personality!” ”

“ She was grateful that nature had provided her with hair that fell in soft, natural waves. Mrs. Lurie was far from vain, but she was pleased at her image reflected in the mirror.
Another trip to the sidewalk and still no sign of Judy! Mrs. Lurie re-entered the house, laid out Judy’s shorts and sleeveless blouse. This was a slight risk she felt impelled to take. Her daughter had for years made a fetish of selecting her own things and rebelled at any infringement of her rights. Mrs. Lurie had encouraged her to do this. But time and again she wished Judy’s taste wasn’t so lurid. ”

“ We see each other nearly every day—if not at his Uncle Yahn’s Swiss Shop, then he drops in here. We never finish all we have to say. I know his character, his thoughts, his dreams. I weep for all his father has been through. Remember the prophets of the Old Testament you used to read to me? I listened with only half an ear. But Karl knows a lot of Jewish history and I’m learning fast. When Grandma hears of this phenomenon, she will be glad that all her efforts to fill the huge gap in my ignorance has at last born fruit. ”