Tell Me About My Father: Wasyl's Story

   Wasyl slammed the kitchen door shut and dropped his books on one of the chairs by the table. He hurried to the sink to slurp a drink of cold water from his hand. No time to use a cup. He wiped his dripping mouth on his sleeve, grabbed the empty coal bucket, and raced back outside before Mary or Tillie could invent another chore for him to do. He ran across the backyard stopping just long enough to pick two red apples from the tree and stuff them into his jacket pocket. Then he headed toward the mine.

   Now out of sight of his house, he slowed down, tracing his normal route along the railroad tracks. Sometimes good coal fell off the train cars as they rumbled along behind the miners' houses, so he kept his eyes on the ground looking for the shiny black chunks. He always tried to be the first one out here after school so he could scavenge these pieces before the other boys and some of the girls in his neighborhood. If you got there late, the good coal was all picked. Then it took twice as long to fill your bucket.

   Plunk! Plunk! Today there were a few good pieces along the tracks. It's my lucky day! Plunk! He searched both sides of the tracks as he trudged toward the culm bank. By the time he reached it, his bucket was almost half full. This was a good start but now came the hard part -- searching through the refuse slack for the rare chunks of good coal that had been missed in the sorting process. Most of the culm bank was just shale, slate, and pea coal, but even pea coal could be used if he couldn't find anything else. Mama wouldn't mind. Plunk! Plunk! He climbed higher and higher up the culm bank, sliding back down a little with each step on the large unstable pile of rocks. This should be called a culm mountain, not a culm bank. Oh! Found another good one! Plunk!

   Wasyl kept glancing at the sky. He wanted to fill his bucket as fast as he could so he could visit Mr. Sobic and Sally. Wasyl liked Mr. Sobic because he always took the time to answer Wasyl's questions, but he loved Sally. Plunk! Wasyl had been visiting Sally since he was just five years old, and now they were great friends. Plunk! Plunk! You could say they grew up together. He loved to hear her greet him when he stopped at the blacksmith's shop. Sally would look up when he entered, flutter her long eye lashes, open her dark brown eyes in recognition and smile her toothy grin like she hadn't seen Wasyl in a year. Plunk! Actually, he came by several times a week. Plunk! Plunk! She knew that he would share his after-school snack with her, and apples were her favorite. Plunk! Plunk! And... Plunk! Finally, the bucket is full! He loped toward the colliery and Mr. Sobic's blacksmith shop.

   Mr. Sobic was bent over his anvil, hammering away, so he didn't hear Wasyl enter, but Sally looked up and brayed in excitement. Mr. Sobic stood and wiped his damp brow with a big red handkerchief. "Wasyl, I thought that was you! Nobody else gets such a welcome from Sally! Did ya fill yer bucket? Let me take a peek."

   Mr. Sobic always asked the same question. Wasyl suspected that Mama had told him not to allow her son to visit unless his coal bucket was filled first. Wasyl dragged his bucket forward and proudly showed Mr. Sobic the fruits of his labor. "Good boy!" said the blacksmith. "Your family will sleep warm tonight!"

   Wasyl slid a stool close to Sally's stall and pulled an apple from his pocket. He took out his pocketknife and sliced off a chunk for Sally. He grinned as Sally's long pink tongue delicately wrapped around the fruit slice and brought it to her mouth. She crunched happily, nodded and rolled her eyes as if to say, "Oh, this is so good!"...