DIY History | Transcribe | Campus Culture | ""Leno and Maria: A Success Story"" by Vincent P. Cano - 1985

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""Leno and Maria: A Success Story"" by Vincent P. Cano - 1985

Page 31

three-thirty. Do not forget to wait."

  As she nodded in agreement, she opened and slammed the car door behind her and walked toward the hospital's entrance. The wind blew against her such that it flapped the hem of her gray tweed coat revealing a hint of a pink uniform underneath. She has spent hours taking a piece of pink fabric and cutting it into a fine pink uniform that the hospital required their housekeepers to wear. Unable to read the fine printed instructions of the dress patterns, she would eye a store bought dress of hers and cut here and there until a dress finally took shape. She opened the heavy glass door to step inside and turned around to motion me on my way. As I slowly pulled away, I could see her disappear down a corridor that led her to her duties of the day. 

The perfume of her hand lotion still remained in the car as I approached the center of town heading south on Dubuque Street. The streets were still deserted of people and the timing of the stop lights allowed me to pass through the center of town with no need to stop. Approaching Court Street, I turned right on to it and slowly descended the slippery street. One more stop, a left turn on to Capital Street, and a short coast brought me to the front of my home once again. 

A figure of a man dressed snugly in overalls and a flannel hood emerged from the steps leading from the basement door with a black lunch pail swinging from his gloved right hand. The man smartly walked by the length of the front car window, turned right, and headed south. I got out of the car and stepped on to a freshly shoveled sidewalk in time to see him fade into the distance. 

The sound of a train whistle screamed in the direction to where my father headed to report for work as a section laborer on the Rock Island Railroad. Approaching the front porch, I noticed his footprint in the snow next to the snow shovel leaning against the side of the house. Once inside, I layed my coat across on of the kitchen chairs. The kitchen clock hanging over the kitchen sink read five-thirty,

31.

Saving...

three-thirty. Do not forget to wait." As she nodded in agreement, she opened and slammed the car door behind her and walked toward the hospital's entrance. The wind blew against her such that it flapped the hem of her gray tweed coat revealing a hint of a pink uniform underneath. She has spent hours taking a piece of pink fabric and cutting it into a fine pink uniform that the hospital required their housekeepers to wear. Unable to read the fine printed instructions of the dress patterns, she would eye a store bought dress of hers and cut here and there until a dress finally took shape. She opened the heavy glass door to step inside and turned around to motion me on my way. As I slowly pulled away, I could see her disappear down a corridor that led her to her duties of the day. The perfume of her hand lotion still remained in the car as I approached the center of town heading south on Dubuque Street. The streets were still deserted of people and the timing of the stop lights allowed me to pass through the center of town with no need to stop. Approaching Court Street, I turned right on to it and slowly descended the slippery street. One more stop, a left turn on to Capital Street, and a short coast brought me to the front of my home once again. A figure of a man dressed snugly in overalls and a flannel hood emerged from the steps leading from the basement door with a black lunch pail swinging from his gloved right hand. The man smartly walked by the length of the front car window, turned right, and headed south. I got out of the car and stepped on to a freshly shoveled sidewalk in time to see him fade into the distance. The sound of a train whistle screamed in the direction to where my father headed to report for work as a section laborer on the Rock Island Railroad. Approaching the front porch, I noticed his footprint in the snow next to the snow shovel leaning against the side of the house. Once inside, I layed my coat across on of the kitchen chairs. The kitchen clock hanging over the kitchen sink read five-thirty, 31.