Start Again

Chapter 1

Early spring 1953
Granville, Mississippi

Maggie Blankenship stared at the unfamiliar name and jumble of numbers on the slip of paper her mama handed to her. “What is this?”

After getting off the big yellow school bus that had no air conditioning, Maggie was hot and sweaty from the stuffy ride. March had brought unseasonal warm weather, and after trudging up their long, slightly uphill, gravel driveway, she wanted to rush directly to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of Coke to help her cool off. But now, her mama had stopped her as soon as she entered the living room and given her this strange piece of paper.

Gladys Blankenship was an attractive lady, still trim in her forties, but an overbearing person who expected everyone to follow her every whim. She had piercing pale blue eyes that could bore a hole in anybody or anything. Today, she wore one of her better dresses, and had curled her hair.

In answer to Maggie’s question, her mama answered, “I visited your Aunt Mary today. Your Uncle Richard has a friend whose son is in the Army in Korea who wants somebody to write to him while he’s over there so far away from home.”

Her mama turned toward the kitchen and walked away. Maggie looked at the paper again. Did her mama expect her to write a letter to a complete stranger?

“Maggie, don’t just stand there like you got no sense. You should write to the poor boy, seeing how he’s fighting for his country in a foreign land. He’s probably in need of a friend about now.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll write him.” Of course she’d write the boy a letter. She didn’t entertain any other option. Maggie was an obedient only child who’d never sassed her parents and always did what they said without question.

Maggie walked across the living room’s glossy hardwood floor on the way to her bedroom. There, she dumped her schoolbooks onto one of the twin beds and laid the paper with the soldier’s name and address on the top of her dressing table. She removed her school clothes and changed into blue jeans and a sleeveless white blouse that buttoned up the front.

Finally, she plopped onto the bed and pushed her books around to find her Trig textbook. After flipping to the correct page, she opened her three-ring binder and started her homework. She loved any math course and was good at them all.

After doing most of her homework, she glanced at the clock radio on her bedside table and hurried to the kitchen to set the table for supper. Her mama always had supper ready when her daddy arrived home from work, and it was almost that time.

“How was Aunt Mary?” Maggie asked her mama while putting out the silverware.

“She was fine. We had lunch together at your Uncle Richard’s café before I came home. Did you have a good day at school?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you sit with Jane on the school bus?”

“Yes, Mama, I did.” Her mama knew they always sat together.

Her mama put the fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, fried okra, and sliced tomatoes on the table. Just as she took the cornbread out of the oven, Maggie’s daddy arrived home from his job at a plastics plant in Jackson, Mississippi.

Last year, they’d moved from the city to a small community named Granville, located in the county outside of Jackson. Maggie had transferred to the county high school there to begin the second semester of her senior year. She recalled the first morning she’d stepped onto the county school bus and offered the driver a dime, the same as she’d paid the city bus driver before they moved. He’d waved away her offer without smiling, saying the ride was free.

“Hey, ladies,” her daddy greeted them as he went first to his wife and kissed her cheek. Next, he hugged Maggie. “How’s my little girl?”

David Blankenship was Maggie’s hero. She guessed he’d wanted a boy when her mama had Maggie because he took her with him everywhere—fishing, hunting with a single-shot rifle, and ballgames, to name a few. She was proud to be seen with her daddy, for he was a tall, slender, handsome man with graying hair who could eat anything he wanted and never gain weight. He’d never said a harsh word to his daughter.

“I’m fine, Daddy. But I keep telling you I’m not a little girl any longer.”

“You’ll always be my little girl no matter how old you get or wherever you are. And don’t you ever forget that.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

After finishing supper, Maggie’s mama joined her husband in the living room to watch the CBS evening news on their new black and white television. Maggie stayed in the kitchen to clear the table and wash the dishes. Mama nagged Daddy to buy her one of those new-fangled dishwashers. But whenever she asked him, he told her she already had a dishwasher—Maggie. Maggie didn’t mind doing the dishes; it was better than sitting with adults in the living room. Being left alone in the kitchen, she could let her thoughts wander wherever they wanted to go without having to explain anything to anybody.

Maggie had always longed for a sister or brother to share things with—even silly things she wouldn’t want to talk about with her parents. But there was no way around it. She would never have anybody besides her parents. Well, she had made a few friends at school, mainly Jane.

And she’d had a few dates since she’d been at her new school. Especially now since Randy had been asking her out. He was a year behind her since he’d had to repeat a grade, but he’d been taking her to the softball games at school. It didn’t cost anything to watch the games; he didn’t seem to have much money, so that worked out fine. And he always managed to get the family car most weekends. But now she had to write a letter to the soldier in Korea. Yes, she had to; her mama would pester her until she did. What did you write to someone you didn’t know or hadn’t ever seen? She’d just have to figure that out on her own and do it over the weekend.

Early on Saturday afternoon, after she’d eaten dinner with her parents, Maggie went to her bedroom to finish her weekend homework. As she walked past her dressing table, she reached for the slip of paper with the soldier’s name on it. Might as well add that task to her afternoon. Propped against some pillows against her bed’s headboard, Maggie first dug into her homework. However, the slip of paper she’d laid aside kept claiming her attention.

She leafed through her notebook to a clean page and poised her pen above it. Glancing over to the slip of paper, she began the letter. Dear Thomas. Oh, my, should she say dear? Well, of course, that’s how you start all letters, even business letters, as she’d learned in typing class. Now what? After much thought, she decided to introduce herself.

March 7, 1953
Dear Thomas,

I got your address from my uncle, who knows your daddy. Your daddy said you wanted someone to write you a letter.

My name is Margaret Ann Blankenship, but people call me Maggie. I live just outside of Jackson, Mississippi, with my parents. I’m a senior in high school.

In the summers, I love to go swimming and make trips to the beach. My faith is very important to me. We attend a church where my daddy is a deacon. What church do you go to?

I hope my letter will help you not be so lonely as you’re a long way from home.

She’d read in Seventeen magazine in the school library that when a girl meets a boy, she should get him to talk about himself. So, maybe that would work in a letter as well. She continued writing.

When did you join the Army? How long have you been in Korea? Is it dangerous where you are? I bet you’re seeing a lot of different things over there.

I hope this letter reaches you. If you want more letters from me, just write back and let me know.

She wouldn’t sign off with love, and writing sincerely would be just as stupid, so she simply signed her name. Reaching in a drawer of her bedside table, she withdrew an envelope. She folded the letter, sealed it inside the envelope, and then turned it over to write the address.

Sgt Thomas L. Walker 1222653 Unit 7684
APO AP 32652

She added her full name and address in the upper left corner.
⸺⸺
On Monday morning, Maggie waited alone at the end of her driveway for the county school bus. She held the soldier's letter and still doubted the wisdom of writing to someone she didn’t know. But Mama and Daddy both agreed it was a nice thing for her to do. Finally, she laid the letter and coins for postage inside the large gray metal mailbox resting atop a wooden post beside the Jackson Highway. She closed the lid but hesitated before raising the red flag on the side of the mailbox to signal the mailman their residence had outgoing mail. Despite her parents’ insistent approval, she fleetingly wondered if she’d ever regret sending such a letter. She raised the little red flag and turned to watch for the school bus.

Boarding the bus, she took an aisle seat, leaving the space next to her empty so she could scoot over when the bus stopped at Jane’s house. Moving over so Jane could sit beside her during previous months entailed sliding across the stiff plastic seating, still cold from winter’s chilly temperatures. The space she vacated for her friend had warmed from her presence there. But having someone sit with her had been worth the sacrifice of warmth in the new seat. But now spring had tiptoed into their area, which resulted in stuffiness on the bus when combined with students.

Regardless of having a seatmate, Maggie felt alone on the crowded bus. She felt isolated in the new school’s hallways, teeming with students she didn’t know well. Really, she couldn’t remember many times in her life when she hadn’t felt lonesome. But that was okay because she was content to spend time with herself.

Arriving at the two-story red brick schoolhouse, Maggie and Jane hopped off the school bus and went separate ways to their lockers before going to different first-period classes. They wouldn’t see each other again until lunchtime. In the crowded hallways, the boys punched each other and generally acted goofy. The girls stood around in their little cliques where Maggie didn’t belong, still considered the new kid at school.

Surprisingly, Maggie’s zest for school hadn’t suffered from transferring at mid-year. She loved the academics of school. Her parents never had high expectations of her abilities; her daddy always advised her to do her best. She took his words as her pledge and did just that, rising above worrying about petty social interactions.