Kingwood
an excerpt

Kingwood. That name always brought pictures into Keziah's head, pictures of a dense but sunlit forest through which knights in armor rode. The forest was home to fantastic creatures--dragons and unicorns and griffins. Just beyond the woods was a hill topped by a castle.

Kingwood, New Jersey. New! For a moment the general store faded from view as Keziah thought about what a place with "New" in its name must be like. She lived in Ohio, a state that would be 50 years old next year. She was born here 11 years ago, two years after her parents arrived from New Jersey. Everything in Ohio was new. People were starting to build frame houses to replace the log cabins they or their parents had built. The woods in the township were disappearing as more and more were turned into fields and pastures. Keziah wondered whether "New" Jersey still had log cabins and woods.

She examined the folded piece of paper in her hand. It was a letter. The return address read "Elizabeth Strimple, Kingwood, New Jersey." It was addressed to Aaron Strimple, her father. Mr. Burgess had handed her the letter when she came into his store today.

Elizabeth Strimple was Keziah's grandmother, her father's mother to be exact. Keziah had never seen her grandmother. She only knew of her grandmother through the occasional letters and through stories family members told.

"Do you need anything else today, Keziah?"

"No, thank you. I'd better head back home now. Thanks for the letter!"

Keziah left the store and walked to where her horse was tied. She quickly freed the rope from the hitching rail and jumped onto his back. It was a short ride home from the Center, about 2 miles. The Center was the crossroads in the middle of the township. There were two main businesses there, Mr. Burgess's general store and The Western Immigrant's Home, a tavern.

As she turned into the lane leading to their farm she saw her father walking towards the house from the barn.

"Father! I have a letter from Grandmother!"

Aaron Strimple wiped his hands on his pants and walked towards her. He took the letter from his daughter's hand and walked towards the front porch. He sat down on a bench, examined the outside of the letter, and slowly broke the seal.

"What does it say? What does it say?"

"Patience, Daughter. Let me read this first."

As he began reading the letter, Aaron noticed that his mother's handwriting had become larger in size and shakier.

July 15, 1852

Dear Aaron and family,

I take pen and paper in hand to let you know that all of us in Kingwood are well and to ask about your family.

It is very warm here this summer, but so far our crops are doing all right.

Write when you get the chance and tell me how all of you are doing. I so wish I could see you again.

Mahlon will add a few lines.

Mother

Dear Brother,

Mother has asked me to write part of this letter as her eye sight is failing and it is hard for her to write.

I do wish that you could come see her soon. She misses you and your family, and she has never seen your youngest children.

I have just returned from a business trip to Rochester, New York. There I heard an excellent Independence Day speech by a man named Frederick Douglass. He was born a slave but acquired his freedom and now publishes a newspaper and makes speeches on the necessity of abolishing slavery. I saw grown men in the audience reduced to tears as he warned that God might reduce America to irrecoverable ruin for this great sin of enslaving her own people just as he did to Babylon for her many crimes. Others in the audience became angry and tried to shout him down.

The talk reminded me of one of my favorite quotations from Thomas Jefferson. You know I've always felt a special fondness for him since he was president when I was born. Of course I didn't know anything about him until years after he left office. But when he died the Hunterdon newspaper devoted several pages to him and quoted his writings. As I listened to Frederick Douglass I remembered that Jefferson had written, "I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just; that his justice can not sleep forever." Jefferson was writing about that same social ill of slavery that Douglass condemns.

I'm feeling well this summer for the first time in 2 years. I didn't know that recovering fully from typhoid fever could take so long. I'm grateful to God for allowing me to survive the disease that took so many of my friends in Locktown.

I am here in Kingwood for a week to help Mother and our sisters Sarah and Sindona with some repairs on the house and some farm duties. By the time you receive this I expect, God willing, to be back in Locktown with my wife and our children.

Please do write when you get the chance and tell us how all are doing.

Mahlon

Keziah watched her father carefully as he read the letter and then refolded it. As he folded the letter he closed his eyes tightly as if to squeeze out the light.

"Father, you're crying!"

"Just got some dust in my eyes, that's all."

"What did Grandmother write?"

"She just asked how all of us are. And, your Uncle Mahlon wrote about a speech he heard in New York. Here. Read it if you'd like."

Keziah eagerly took the letter from his outstretched hand.

"Are you going to go see Grandmother?"

"I'd like to, but it just isn't possible."

"But, I don't understand why you don't go. I couldn't stand to be away from you and Mother for so long!"

"It's not that simple. It's a hard trip. When your mother and I and your brothers and sisters came to Ohio it took us 29 days. I can't leave the farm for 2 or 3 months to make the trip to New Jersey and back."

"You could go in the winter when there is less work to do on the farm."

"Keziah, you don't know what you're talking about! There are steep mountains to climb that are nearly impassable in the winter. I wish with all my heart that I could go, but it's just not possible."

Aaron got up from the bench, walked into the house, and firmly closed the door behind him.