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Show "SUSPENSE" By Mrs, Ruel Edringlon EDITOR'S NOTE: Even though it's been almost a month since Union High School won the state Class "B" basketball title, many of us remember very vividly the thrills that came with the title. . . Mrs. Edringlon Edring-lon has set forth in words just how a person felt who was forced to remain at home and was unable to get a radio reception, recep-tion, and telephone service wasn't so good. . . Her story, entitled SUSPENSE follows: The clock on the wall had just chimed ten p. m. when I walked into the dining room and tookj the receiver off the telephone. I simply had to know how things were going out there with our boys. A chance for our first High School State Basketball Championship didn't happen to our little town every day in the week. Not to' be there lending as much moral support as I possibly pos-sibly could was bad enough, but waiting to hear some word, was worse. Waiting is always worse. It is more nerve wracking than any actual experience I know. I sank down on the studio couch and waited impatiently for the operator to say "Number please". This was a twelve party line and I felt lucky to find it free. There wasn't any hum, any noise and I couldn't hear any voices, no nothings, as my young son would say. I looked up and said irritably to my husband, sitting in the living room twiddling twid-dling with the dials of the radio, while he had one leg propped on a chair, "Why is it you can wait all day, patient as Job, for the neighbor to get off the line and then if the operator doesn't answer the instant you pick up the receiver, you personally want to take her out and hang her." A teen aged voice spoke rather testily into my ear. " I was on this line first." "Oh-I'm sorry," I excused myself my-self and hurriedly placed the receiver back in its cradle. I folded up my pillow cases I had laid carefully on the dining room table, waiting for a spare minute to be placed away in their accustomed drawer. As I gathered them up, my mind was busy with the thought of this exciting event. It had been one full week of tremendous expectation. Thos unbeatable boys had won game after game until now tonights teams were battling for the State Championship. Champion-ship. Our team had been the unsung, unknown small town team. We had been called the runt team, the Cinderella team, the lower bracket team. How I would love to ram those words down that correspondent's throat, paper and all. There wasn't anything runty about those boys at all. I have always said -and a million times too, it wasn't size that counted in anything-, but what you had in the upper region that added up to success in the long run. You didn't need to be 6'7", with legs like a giraffe to play basketball. Brains, hard work, clean living and good coaching were the best, combinations and we had them all. If those boys won tonight they would win fair and square in there own right, as Champions. Champ-ions. Cinderella team, my eye. Those boys had been playing basketball ever since they had entered elementary school. If we should win, one of the unsung un-sung heroes of tonight would be a basketball man of yesteryears, who every Tuesday night gave freely and gladly of his time, to teach any youngster who wished to come, the fundamental fundamen-tal rules of basketball and good sportsmanship. I clicked on the light in my bedroom and carefully placed the pillow cases away. Then I returned to the dining room and once more picked up the receiver. re-ceiver. A girls voice of about High School age said gushingly into' my ear: "I'm going to die if . I don't find out something soon. I'm simply on edge. I can't do a thing." Another voice answered her, "So am I. I just walk around and around like a lost soul. Do you know what? If I had the wings of an angel over these prison walls I would fly. I would fly right smack dab to' Provo," here she giggled a little, before she went on, "And there I'd see for myself how things are coming along." I hung up again and walked into the living room. Joe, my beloved was still twiddling the radio dials. "Can't you get anything, Joe?" I questioned. There was actually misery in my voice. "You would think they wpuld be broadcasting broadcast-ing it blow by blow, play by play or set up by set up - or something. some-thing. Haven't you heard a thing?" i "I can't get a station in Utah" was his retort, "I can get Des Moines, Iowa; Clinton, Texas; Alberquerque, New Mexico; but I'll be darned if I can pick up KSL, KDYL or even KJAM." "They've probably all signed off and gone to Provo too," I told him trying to keep the disappointment dis-appointment out of my voice. "Do you know, Joe, there isn't twenty-five people left in this town tonight." "I'd like to bet half of the county and part of the next are there also," he added. "Or the whole Uintah Basin," I concluded for good measure. Joe kept twisting away on the radio. He moved a little; shifted his leg clumsily. I glared at that leg. If it had not been' for that leg we would be there I tonight with the rest of the! thousands watching, instead of waiting here at home. Oh, well, it wasn't Joe's fault. A broken leg is a broken leg. He was as disappointed as I, and he wanted want-ed me to go with Steve, but of course I wouldn't go without him. Steve was our own young Senior. He was not on the team, but he had made a place for himself in football. He worked for the Shumways Market, I had dropped in today to sort of feel how they felt about his being away so long. I was told by an almost inactive clerk that the boss had been in Provo' Pro-vo' three days himself. And anyway any-way this was the deadest and most deserted town in Utah right now. What was more, as soon as five o'clock came he and all the other clerks in town were leaving also. I walked through the dining room and into the kitchen, glancing at the wrist watch on my arm. I would give the girls on the line a little longer. This was one time I would have given a million dollars for a private phone. I got a drink of water. I don't iknow why, for I certainly was I not thirsty. I set the glass on the drainboard and hurried back . to the telephone. I heard the boy's loud voice coming angrily form the earpiece, ear-piece, even as I was lifting it toward my face. "If my Mother and Dad had let me go I'd have been there now, instead of sweating it out here. I'll bet we are the only two students who' ain't in Provo. Believe me ." I replaced the receiver carefully care-fully and looked at my husband again. "Everyone left out here are wishing they were there including in-cluding me," I told him. My husband leaned quickly towards the radio, waving me to silence. I leaped to my feet and dashed to his side dropping drop-ping in front of the radio. There was a faint voice giving some important details of the Class B tournament coming over the air. It was constantly drowned out by a Clinton, Texas cowboy For once I earnestly condemned every cowboy to ever lasting punishment. Joe tried unsuccessfully to tune out the offender, but after the faint voice ended we only knew that it had been tied up at the third quarter and had completely missed what the out come had been. Disgusted and worked up to fever pitch, I returned to the telephone on the stand. Once more I trtied the receiver only to hear the same stay-at-home I boys denouncing their parents, their hard luck, and everyone in general. Again I returned the receiver. I flipped the pages of the telephone book, but my eyes didn't see any names or numbers nor did my mind register anything any-thing from the book. All I could see was a large polished floor under blinding flood lights, and swift moving figures dribbling, dribbling away. I could almost hear the roar of the crowd as the basketball was swished through the hoop. Almost unconsciously un-consciously I reached out and once more had that receiver to my ear. The operator's "Number Please," startled me into reason. "106P", I almost shouted. "Hang up, please," I sweated out the usual seconds and then lifted my finger fin-ger from the telephone button. A childish voice said, "Hello." i "Is your mother at home, I honey?" I asked the sweet little six year old daughter of my neighbor. "No," she said. "Mommy and Daddy went to town to see how the basketball game in Provo came out." "Okey," I told her, "I'll call her in the morning." I laid the receiver in its accustomed ac-customed place and went to' the archway which separated our dining room from the living room. "Everybody who isn't in Provo Pro-vo probably is in town to get the news there," I said to my husband wearily. He looked up at me and he smiled sadly, "Pretty tough, isn't it, mama?" He said gently, his eyes leaving mine and going to his leg. I felt suddenly ashamed and turned in confusion back to the telephone. I must try harder not to let him think I blamed him. I would try another of the neighbors. The Murphys. They had never missed a game at home. I called, but no answer. Then I remembered thier son who had once played in a State tournament game himself, told me he was leaving at noon. His parents obviously had accompanied accomp-anied him. I silently hoped they had made it in time. The whole town was making a hundred and fifty three mile trip over blizzard-swept mountains to see who' could cheer and yell and scream the loudest for our grand team. I tried the neighbors farther down the road. No answer. It was too late to call Grandmother Fisher. "I can't think of any one else I to call," I said dispiritedly, "Everyone we know or could call have gone to the game. Joe suddenly brightened, "Why don't you call Nell? She couldn't be gone," he smiled at me. "Yes! Nell will be home!" I fairly grabbed the receiver. Nell who was expecting her baby anytime would be home. "64-Q," I told the operator hurriedly. It seemed I waited a long time. Goodness, maybe she's gone to the hospital. "L ," said a tiny voice. Oh, no, not Susie, not tonight, not now! I didn't want to go through that rigamarole. Not that I minded it sometimes; she was so cute and loved it so. .But tonight of all nights. I "Hello, Susie. Is mama home, I dear?" I managed sweetly. "Ome," came the tiny voice. "Can I talk to mama, Susie?" I said hopefully. "No," said the wee voice indignantly. in-dignantly. "Oh you want to talk first? O.K." I frowned and pushed back ugly thoughts of people who let their babies answer the telephone. "Where's your Daddy?" I inquired. in-quired. "Scoll," peeped the voice, although al-though school had been out for hours and hours. This was only part of the regular program. Day in, day out it was always the same. "How's your Dolly?" "Seep." My patience departed, and I said a bit crossly, "Listen, Susie, tell mama to come quick and talk to Aunt Jennie." "No Susie talk, talk," she demanded. "Auntie's in a hurry, honey," I tried to reason with her. "No, Susie talk, talk," she still insisted. Joe laughed, and I looked daggers at him. I tried again. "What is mama doing?" "Bath." "Oh, mama is taking a bath, is she?" I guess Nell didn't even know Susie was on the phone. I could picture myself talking baby gibberish for half an hour before Nell got bathed. 'You tell mama to come to the phone. Then I'll talk to you," I pleaded. "No; talk talk!" Susie fairly screamed. It must have been her screaming scream-ing or Nell looking to see what she was doing, for I heard Nell saying, "Let mama have the phone, Susie." Then finally Nell's sweet voice came to me. "Hello, Nell!" I exclaimed before be-fore she could make excuses for her baby, "Do you know how the game came out? I'm going to pass out with excitement excite-ment and tension if I don't find out soon." "No, I don't. I'm just as excited. ex-cited. I've been trying to' locate-someone locate-someone who knows myself, but Susie has been bothering me until I was going to give her a bath and put her to bed. Haven't you heard a thing?" "We got one jumbled up mess on the radio," I told her. "It left us more confused than before. be-fore. I think they were tied at the third quarter. But I have a 1 feeling deep down inside me that we won." Susie was screaming and crv ing and yelling, "Talk, talk" in the distance somewhere. Np'h had to almost shout to be hearH "You would think they Wou? blow the fire siren or something to let us know," she said. "The whole fire department is probably in Provo along With the rest," I put in. 1 "If you hear any good new, give me a ring, she finally said "I want to get Susie to bed and then take a bath myself." I promised and hung up. I went dejectedly, into the bathroom and brusched my hair and creamed my face. I might as well gtt to bed and wait un til morning to find out the news' Although I knew perfectly well I would not close my eyes I heard Joe getting awkardlv to his feet and then thumD (Continued On Page 7) Suspense . . . (Continued from Page Six) thump of his crutches as he made his way kitchenward. The telephone rang the four chort rings that was ours. Joe S me to it only because he as standing right by it. His back was toward me but I heard him say delightedly, We did!" There was the silence of the nther party talking, but I knew! T knew it! We had won! We had won the State Championship! Oh those wonderful, wonderful magnificant boys! Joe was still talking but I said commandingly, "Give me that phone. I want to tell Nell before she gets in to that bath- tUjie took his time. I knew he would, but finally he did hang UP''We won," he said unnecessarily- "That was the Gleason kid. He was simply bursting to tell someone. The news just came through. "I knew we won." I've felt it all the time," I said happily. Giving the operator Nell's number num-ber quickly I waited. "You certainly gave a good performance for a person who knew it," said my one and only turning and hopping away. I heard someone say "Hello." Simply bursting with happiness, I yelled out gayly, "We won!" "I know we did. Who are you?" It was then I realized I had an unknown party on the other end of the line. Foolishly I grabbed at my joy numbed wits. "Oh, Oho," I began in confusion, con-fusion, "I though you were Nell Fisher, I' mean Nell Cunningham. Cunning-ham. I paused then couldn't adding, "But we still won' Wasn't it wonderful?" "It most certainly was," came the unknown happy voice. I was just talking to Nell a few minutes ago and she was telling me she was going to take a bath, but if I heard that we had won I was to call her right back, bath or no bath, she wanted want-ed to know," I explained the best I could, hoping that she would hang up. She did, after laughingly telling tell-ing me it would be worth getting get-ting out of a tub to hear such good news. It was not until later that I realized we had never found out who was talking to whom. I waited a few minutes, hoping hop-ing the other had departed for bed or parts unknown. I wanted the line one more time then anyone could have it as long as they wished. I gave the number clearly and slowly this time and in no seconds sec-onds flat an excited Nell said "Hello." I recognized her voice this time, so I went into my act again. "We won!" I shouted. "We did?" We most certainly did!" "Oh, those wonderful, wonderful won-derful guys! I bet this town took Provo apart. Oh, how I would love to have been there," Nell was so thrilled her voice broke. It brought tears to my eyes. "Did I get you out of your bath?" I asked, trying to calm my voice down. "Yes," she said laughing a little, "but it was worth it." I let her go back to her bath. She could relax now and so' could I. I realized all at once I was terribly tired and sleepy. I crossed the dining room once more and stood looking at my husband, his leg still propped out on the chair. I could look at it detachedly now. It was just a leg, a poor darling leg that had been broken and bruised. I walked over and put a hand on it careful. Joe looked at me. "Well, say it," he said. "Of all the times to pick to break a leg," I said smiling fondly at him. "Next time you insist on breaking a leg, either you break it three months in advance or you wait until a day after the game. Don't you ever do this to me again. "I'll have a heart attack sure from the suspense." |