The Mystery at Sag Bridge

Chapter 18

I walked out the door and up to the end of the block to catch the electric streetcar. It came every half hour, only a short wait. Mam had put me in a mood to spend the waiting time dwelling on troubles.

Mam surely had a great many irritating ways about her, like talking as if she just come over from Ireland, which she does all the time. She was born right here in Sag Bridge and never stepped foot in the Auld Country in her life. Still, she talks like Ireland is the whole world. I don't understand it. The Irish are so looked down on; why ever would she want to be always reminding everyone she's Irish? Most Irish hide where they're from so they can get on in the world and not be stuck to swinging a shovel in the quarry, like my Packey.

My Packey's a fine man and I love him like nobody's business, but he's been known to protest that being Irish, 'tis assumed shoveling or swinging a pickaxe are the only things he can do. He must take the same jobs other Micks do and would never be thought suited for a more skilled position. Well, the Irish are politicians of course...but then that's another thing entirely, and not for the likes of my Packey. He's a natural leader, but he doesn't have a political bone in his body. Nor do I for that matter.

I wished we had our own place, but we're happy enough living with Sally and Mick on Pa's farm, at least until after this little one is born. The newspapers say the hard times are supposed to be over, but that's not true for us yet. Since Pa died we can't hardly get all the work done. With Uncle Denny working on the railroad, and my babe due soon, and Packey's no farmer-it's more than Mick and Sally can do. The money I made working at Field's would have helped, but with the babe and all I just can't be traveling to Chicago every day.

When I lived downtown I got away from this dreary place. I wished I was still working in Marshall Field's grand store. Although his partner thought him a fool, Mr. Field knew there was no future in Sag Bridge and he was smart to leave this town behind. I couldn't help but wish it had worked out as well for me. I miss buying grand clothes and hearing grand music at the Chicago Symphony and all the exciting things they don't have here.

And oh, how glorious the Fair was! I know I'll never see the likes of it again all my born days, the crowds and the exhibits and all. Sparkling White City, white buildings and white lights shimmering; over 100,000 bulbs it is told! It cost dear to go, it did, but as soon as the dates were set I started to put a bit away for the day and sure didn't I save enough for Packey and me, and I'll never regret that, I won't, although some thought it a foolish waste.

An age of technology, they called it. I can hardly wait for the future, when things like a kinetoscope will be in every town, and make pictures move on a screen, pictures that can go over and over again, all the day long, not only when the actors or singers are ready.

One of the new inventions will make jobs for women to get into business. A Remington typewriter it was called, the same company that makes guns. A man let me try it, pushing buttons he called keys, to make words on paper, and I know I can learn to work it and someday I will sit at a desk and make words flow like magic without ever touching the paper.

There was even an Irish village, a reconstructed village made to look just like a real one in Ireland, with a huge Irish castle, and you could see the whole fair if you climbed to the top. Every visitor got a piece of genuine sod from Ireland. I gave mine to Mam.