Ima’s
brother Mike’s war wound was not serious, but in the summer of 1918 she may have
lost someone very dear to her in World War I. The evidence thus far is merely
circumstantial, but it is tantalizing, and if it is true, tragic. An old photo,
undated, shows Ima and a young man on an outing in Germany’s scenic Harz Mountains.
(We know that because “Harz Mts” is scrawled in Ima’s hand across the back of
the snapshot.) The couple are smiling. The sun is shining. They are both
wearing broad-brimmed hats (hers topped with flowers) and both carry walking-sticks,
as if they are out on a ramble.
Who
was this young man to Ima? Was he the same young man whose likeness she
sketched in her notebook on another occasion? A pencil drawing in Ima’s skilled
hand shows a handsome face in profile. He could well be the one in the
photograph. In this sketch he wears a cap, not a hat. Another half-finished
sketch shows Ima’s attempt to capture him in full face. She apparently gave up
and handed the pencil to another, less talented hand--no doubt, her companion’s.
We can almost hear her saying, “Now you draw me.” The result is a
rough picture of Ima, seated, holding a walking-stick. Beside her is a picnic
basket. The drawings are on the pages of a small bound journal that Ima kept in
Germany in 1907-1908.
Why, oh why, didn’t
she write down this young man’s name?
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