why Muriel gets herself so involved

in politics. I don’t know why she’d want

to vote. When I look at all the things women

have to think about already—cooking, mending,

laundry, gardening, babies, keeping house—I don’t

know when we’d find time to decide who’d be the best

man (or maybe woman!) for president, and for all the rest

of the government. Voting and expressing myself won’t

change anything. Will it keep the army from sending

Ollie overseas? Will it bring Frank back home any

sooner? And what if I’m wrong? I simply can’t

be as sure of myself as Muriel, so resolved,

so certain of what’s right and good.

A Long, Low Moooooooo / Ollie

A Long, Low Moooooooo

Ollie

Guess they got my letter. It’s great,

getting this package from home the day before

we leave. New socks (clean and dry!); oatmeal cookies;

long letter from Ma, Pa, and Muriel; one from Emma; and

a picture from Grace—I think it’s Rosie and her new calf. She

drew a big smile on Rosie’s spotted cow-face—I could swear I

heard a long, low moooooooo when I unfolded the paper, and it

occurred to me: if I tuck it into a pocket of my knapsack, with a

few of Muriel’s macaroons, it will be like a window to home. I

may run into Frank over there—he’d love to see these things.

Strong as all this hard training has made me, I still feel like

me—and I’m afraid that’s not saying much. The sun is

setting on our last day in America. Am I up to the

test I’m about to face? I don’t know.

Like a Rain-Soaked Wool Jacket / August 1917

Like a Rain-Soaked Wool Jacket

August 1917

“Kaiser Wilson” / Muriel

“Kaiser Wilson”

Muriel

I’m not sure we should let Muriel read it,

Mama says to Papa as I walk in the door.

After milking Rosie, feeding the chickens,

and helping Grace find a dozen eggs,

then bandaging a cut she got on her knee

when she fell off her swing onto a piece

of broken glass—suddenly, now, I’m a child?

What is it they’re not sure I should read? Papa

answers me before I ask: It’s a hard letter

we’ve received from Aunt Vera, Muriel. She

was injured as she held a banner in front

of the White House. Mama purses her lips.

If you’re going to tell her, tell her what

the banner said. I already know. I saw it

in the newspaper, although I didn’t know

Aunt Vera had been holding it.

The paper called it the “Kaiser Wilson

banner,” accusing President Wilson of being

like the Germans we’re fighting in the war.

HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN YOUR SYMPATHY

WITH THE POOR GERMANS BECAUSE THEY

WERE NOT SELF-GOVERNED? the banner asks,

then declares, for the president to read