Uni's Street Corner

Dr.Siluk's second Prose Short Story, ever written by the Author, 1984)

 

It was a chilly morning in early winter 1933, and as usual, Uni and Grandpa Walter readied themselves for their journey to Uni’s snowbound street corner in downtown Minneapolis, where Uni would sell her pencils. Uni who lived with Grandpa Walter—now aging with arthritis and light symptoms of forgetfulness—was always pleased to have her Grandfather accompany her each morning, although he could only walk her part of the way. And when evening came Grandpa Walter would be waiting—promptly at five—right where he left Uni that morning to walk her back home. And although Uni was blind from birth, with her cane and keen senses she never lost her way.

       This morning as they were walking Uni made a request. She asked her Grandfather to keep her company that day, saying (with her broken English):

       “I vant all my friends to see my very special Grand-Papa.”

       Grandpa Walter hesitated with an answer, remembering Uni had asked so many times before: could he turn her down again?

       Walter walked silently, rubbing his arms for warmth from the brisk winter wind and shifting cold snow. He waved to Ernie the milkman and Tony the mailman on his horse drawn sleigh, and Orve (a rag collector during the summer months and part-time janitor during the winter ones) walking towards downtown on the opposite side of the street. Walter thought, mumbling out loud: ‘Orve is on his way to pick up some sausage at the meat market, he does every Thursday.’

       Uni, with a somber voice, requested again: “Grand- Pa Pa Vaulter, vil you stay vith me today?”

       Grandpa Water wanted to say no, but just couldn’t. “Yes, Uni,” he replied, “if it pleases you I will.”

       With a cry of delight Uni quickly hugged her Grandfather.

       “But” said Grandpa Walter, “I will have to finish some chores at the house first. I will meet you at noon.”

       “Dat’s fine Grand-Pa Pa,” chuckle Uni with pleasure.

       As Uni stood on her street corner that morning awaiting for noon to arrive (pencils in one hand, a tin bucket half filled with pencils in the other, thus, allowing folks to drop coins into the bucket while taking a pencil), she talked to a few regular customers that stopped on by: and upon their departure, asked them for the time. But to her disbelief, it was only 8:20 a.m. ‘Gosh,’ she thought: ‘when you’re waiting for something special to happen, as having your Grandpa to keep you company for the day, time sure goes slow.’

       As Grandpa Walter readied himself for his journey to Uni’s street corner, he thought about how his son had stayed in Oslo, Norway after being stationed there in the American Army during World War I: and married Anna, Uni’s mother (a Norwegian citizen). It was just four years that December when he had traveled to Oslo to attend their funeral: a fatal train accident had taken their lives, whereupon, he decided—during his stay—to take Uni back with him to America.

       He thought—putting on his jacket—how retiring from the South Saint Paul stockyards two-years earlier gave him time to enjoy life, and his granddaughter: and how his small pension and two-bedroom house (paid for) on Glenwood Avenue made him feel secure, and his golden years brighter.
       Uni, awaiting Grandpa Walter, asked everyone she knew—or thought she knew—to be sure to stop by and get introduced to her grandfather who would be with her that afternoon. Most of Uni’s friends replied with a warm yes. A few strangers, who were mistaken for acquaintances, were promptly apologized to and they went on their way.

       There’s the judge, thought Uni. He’s on his way for lunch like always at 11:15 sharp. Uni knew it was him because he would always tap her bucket before dropping in a dime and taking a pencil from her right hand. Before he got too far, Uni cried: “Mr. Holms! Mr. Holms!”

       “Yes, Uni?” replied the Judge.

       “My grandfather is going to be vith me today; maybe you’d like to meet him?”

       “Well Uni, if he’s here on my way back I’d be delighted to. Bye for now!” replied the judge.

       “Boo!” said Grandpa Walter behind Uni in a soft way as to not scare her.

       “I knew it vas you Grandpa,” replied Uni with delight.

       “Well—how is my special and only granddaughter today?”

       “Oh fine,” said Uni nervously. “I’ve been telling my friend’s dat you are going to be vith me today.”

       “Yah!” said Walter unexpectedly, “Do you think that was wise?”

       “Oh! But vhy not Grandpa? I vant them all to meet you,” answered Uni.

       With a smile Grandpa Walter replied: “And I’m very please you do; and so they shall.”

       About twenty minutes elapsed. “Well,” said Grandpa Walter, “where are all these fine friends of yours?”

       “They’re out to lunch Grandpa,” answered Uni.

       Then just that moment appeared Mr. Holms the judge: thereafter, Viola and Mr. Solman; then came Ted the barber, and Mrs. Branch the seamstress, one right after the other. Uni introduced all of them to her Grandfather but something was wrong, very wrong. They all seemed somewhat uncomfortable, unfriendly—not like they usually were. And surprisingly to Uni none purchased any pencils as they normally would before leaving.

       On the way home that evening, Uni—bewildered because of her friends’ attitudes—questioned Grandpa Walter saying: “I just don’t understand. All my regular customers came by and they were so unfriendly. I just don’t understand.”

       As they walked further up Glenwood Avenue, Grandpa Walter hesitant replied: “Uni, I know why.”

       “Oh tell me Grandpa, did I do something wrong?”

       “No Granddaughter, you did nothing wrong. It’s simply because—because your skin is a different color than mine.”

       Uni stopped walking, stared in the direction of her grandfather, hesitated a moment, and said: “Oh Yaw?” She took Grandpa Walter’s hand in her’s. “I never noticed. In my world Grandpa, everything is dark. Is there a difference?”

       Grandpa Walter answered: “I guess it depends what world you wish to live in. I myself prefer yours.”

       With this Grandpa Walter squeezed Uni’s hand. Uni hugged Grandpa Walter burying her face into his coat. “I love you Grand-Pa Pa.”

Note (Background): In 1984, the author switched from poetry to see if he could write short stories. He had written five short poetic short stories between 1981, and 1984, but never a short prose story. He wrote in 1984, two short prose stories the first being, “The Little Russian Twins,” which was selected to be published in a book by “The Little Peoples Press.” The one not selected, the second story, was “Uni’s street Corner.” Both these stories were put into a ten-page chapbook of 100-copies, of which only a few are left. “Uni’s Street Corner,” was never seen by the public other than within the 100-chapbooks, this is the first time ever the author has allowed it to be reprinted. The Chapbook carried the name “Two Modern Short Stories of Immigrant Life,”© 1984