A View In the Mirror

The streaks of bright red and gold flashed across the morning sky. The reflected brilliance of the building's mirrored sides doubled Joe's feeling that something wondrous was happening that day. "Will you look at that? It's lighting us up as if we were the main event at this shindig," he said to his cousin Johnny as they stood before the gear-shaped crystalline Ford Pavilion in the Windy City's second year of the 'World's Fair' of 1934.

Joe was there to set up the new cars, forty-one brand new Fords, Lincolns, and  Edsel's new Mercury prototypes. Sent down on a special train from Detroit, there was everything you could want to see, from the new 'Model 18' with its super V-8, the Deluxe Duce Coups, the four-door 'Super Deluxe Victoria,' the Lincoln KA V12, the top-selling Luxury car, and even the new personal truck line.

The building architect Walt Teague was there because Edsel Ford insisted on adding his new Mercury prototypes in preparation for their 1936 debut. This meant moving walls ramps, and changing doors to make room for the new cars.  The hectic atmosphere was chaotic, and Henry was his usual unyielding self.

It had been two days since Joe Scherer had been home; he waited for the construction workers to finish changing the walls and doorways. He had grown tired of listening to the arguing between Edsel, Walt, and Henry. Everyone Joe spoke to acted like they were in charge, yet nobody could decide on the plan to display the car he was responsible for.

At last, the workers had finished painting and cleaning up. The floors were now all polished. Most of the big wigs had left for the evening. Joe and his crew had stayed with the cars, ensuring they stayed safe, covered, and unseen. They were about to start their rotations for supper when Henry Ford himself came over and asked, "Who is in charge here?" The crew sent him to Joe, who was the Chicago Ford Service Manager.

Henry handed Joe several loose pieces of paper, on which there were handwritten notes and drawings. Henry said, "This is the layout. I would like the cars put in." Joe took the diagrams and looked them over while Henry Ford waited to see if there were any questions.

Joe, a young man by comparison, did not want to risk offending Henry, nor did he want to seem weak, but still, he had other instructions. "Mr. Ford, I have been here for two days waiting to set up these cars. These drawings are nothing like the plans I was shown a few hours ago. Do you want me to leave room for the new Mercury prototypes?"

Henry's expression turned dark as he said, "First, I'll ask you to note whose name is on the front of each of those cars, on this building as well, and until somebody hands me their cash, those are my cars. Edsel doesn't always see things like I do, and I think his new high-priced toys will look best in the back parking lot. Can you be done before morning?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Ford."

"Oh, and Joe, I don't want them moving the cars around in the morning, so I don't want the keys left here."

"Yes, Sir, to whom do you want me to give them?"

"You keep them until I tell you otherwise." Henry patted Joe on the back and handed him two long Cuban cigars. "until I say different, these cars belong to you."

So that is why Joe was there. Over the rest of the evening, He and his crew finished setting things up the way Henry wanted; every car was positioned perfectly, all polished and buffed, ready to show off their new lines, chrome, and bright colors.  Edsel had insisted there not be a single black vehicle.
Finished, Joe and his cousin Johnny went out front; they were smoking the cigars received from Henry. As they stood there, Beams of bright sunlight highlighted two young women in front of the Frigidaire Show, next to the Ford pavilion; they also appeared to be getting ready for the new day.

One of the exceptionally tall paneled doors gave the women trouble. Joe and Johnny spring to life to help push the large rolling panels back into the storage pockets. One of the young women caught Joe's eye, and he asked her name.

"Violet Dittman, but my friends call me Vi," she said, brushing the long blond curl from her face back into place in her perfectly set coif.

Joe asked, "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

"No, we were not formally introduced, but I've seen you around. I live at the end of Halstead Street in the red brick four-story. It belongs to my mother."

"Oh my, it is a small world. We are almost neighbors. I live only a few doors down the street from you. Are you working for Frigidaire?"

"Yes, but just for the Fair. Don't know what I will be doing when it closes."

Joe's face lit up as bright as the mirrored tiles of his employer's grand showplace. He said, "Then, you can stay home and care for our house."

"What . . . you need a housekeeper?"

"No, but I do need a wife."

Vi sent a cunning smirk towards her coworker and said, "You must be crazy as a bed bug,"

"Well, crazy enough to pick you up after work and take you to dinner," Joe said, smiling best.

Vi took in the measure of the young man before her. His dark green uniform was dirty and sorely sweat-stained. "And what do you think would make me interested in riding some bus around town with you?"

Joe looked down to the ground. He worked for the largest auto manufacturer in the world and didn't own a car. Why should he? He could take any car he wanted from the lot and mark its use as a service test. It was expected. It was an accepted perk of the job. Joe raised his head. His great dimples pronounced his realization. "What if I picked you up in a new 1935 Ford?"

Rolling her eyes, Vi said, "And where is someone the likes of you going to get a car that doesn't even go on sale for another two months."

Joe said, "That's my problem. Will you go to dinner with me if I come in a new Ford?"

Vi turned to her workmate. She reached out and adjusted her collar to hide the bright smirk that loomed across her face.
"Sure, if you arrive in a new 35, but only if it's not black. I don't care for big black cars. They remind me of funeral hearses; riding in a hearse is bad luck. If I am to dream, how about cream-colored." Vi snickered to herself. She knew no white cars were parked on her block; she felt completely safe to accept this brash German boy's advances.

Joe and his cousin Johnny returned to the Ford pavilion, collected their belongings, and left.
On the trolley ride back to Halstead Street, Johnny asked, "Joe, I know she's not bad looking, and she turns a pretty shapely leg, but you know she dyes her hair. What are you making such a fuss about her for?"

"Johnny, you think I was kidding, but that's the girl I am going to marry,"

"But Joe, why? I don't understand?"

"Ha, Johnny, that's because you don't see what I see; she is an angel. Didn't you see it? The sun fell out of the sky. It pointed directly at her, and God said, see what I have sent you."

"You know, she may be right. I think you have been up too long or are going crazy."

That evening at 6:35 PM, a brand new creamy white 1935 Ford Deluxe Victoria pulled up in front of the Dittman home. At their door, a tall, dapper young man with dark, well-groomed hair greeted Katy and Jack Dittman. He wore a white suit, and a single yellow rose was in his hand.

Violet heard the commotion outside and looked out her bedroom window to see the car and nearly the entire neighborhood gathering around the handsome young man who stepped from it right in front of her house. She spoke to herself as she looked down at the crowd. "For the love of God, what do I do now? He did it. Everyone on the block will think I am a tease if I stand him up now."

At exactly 7:00 PM, Joe was closing the passenger door of the new car. Vi watched him walk around the car to ensure he wasn't looking while she adjusted the dress she had to hurriedly put on.

One month and two weeks later, Jack stood at the altar with his daughter on his arm. The 'I do's were soon over; the reception was in full swing, and Joe and Vi left for the honeymoon. Upon their return to Chicago, they take one of the apartments owned by Vi's mother.

Violet stays home to care for the house and her mother, who has become ill. Joe continues to work for Ford; he is the youngest service manager ever at the country's largest company-owned dealership.

Joe's shop was just down the street from their home, so each day at noon, he goes home for lunch. His routine is always the same; he picked up a yellow rose from the shop down the street and presented it to his wife as he greeted her with a kiss.

"Hello beautiful; how is my Angel? Do we have lunch today?"

"You know, you are crazy," said Vi as she held the flower to her nose.

He would look into her eyes and reply, "You just don't see what I see."

"Oh, sit down and eat, you fool." She would say as she replaced yesterday's flower in the vase over her sink.

Over the years, life moved in its usual cycle in May 1936. Vi gave birth to their daughter Catherine. She was exhausted and sweaty when they let Joe in to see his bride and new daughter. Her hair clung to the sides of her face, her eyes were bloodshot and sunken, and she wore no makeup. It was obvious to all but Joe that Vi was worn from the nearly twenty hours of hard labor. He entered the room empty-handed; they would not let him bring in his flowers. He leaned over and kissed his wife.

"Hello, beautiful. How are my angels?"

Vi pushed her damp hair back and said, "Not only are you crazy, you are blind."

"Oh, you just don't see what I see," came his steadfast reply.

In July of 1938, Vi gave Joe a son. They named him George, after her Uncle on her mother's side.

*********

So they moved forward, year after year. The usual school events, church, birthdays, Christmas, vacations, etc. There are hardships, too. Violet's father passed away in 1946; the alcohol finally caught up with him.  At the funeral, she put on a good front for her mother but said to Joe, "I don't know why he hated me."
Joe answered, "Oh, Vi, he didn't hate you. A father could never hate his child; it is just the booze that clouded his eyes. He couldn't see what I see."

During World War II, Joe was put in charge of the testing and delivery of the Ford Jeep GPWs to the army. He was gone to the plant in Detroit for weeks at a time and only got home every other weekend. Nevertheless, he brought yellow flowers whenever he came home and greeted Vi as always, "Hello beautiful, how is my Angel?"

The years collect. The kids grew up, married, and Joe retired from Ford after thirty-five long years.

The winters have grown bitterer on older bones; Joe no longer wants to deal with the snow, so they move down to Florida for the sun and some fun.

Through the years, they made their lives. Joe has a small workshop behind the house, and they enjoy a life of routine pleasures. Every October 6th, a truly special day for Joe, is their anniversary; he would start early in the morning with his preparations.  Then, in the late afternoon, he would return home dressed in his white suit, with yellow roses in hand. He would take Vi out to dinner, always picking her up in a brand-new cream-colored Ford. Vi would  tell him the same thing each year, "You know you are crazy for doing this."

He always replies, "You just can't see what I see, but one day you will understand."

***

Forty-seven years and ten months from their wedding day, on January 2nd, Joe was ill. He woke in the night, unable to bear the pain in his shoulder. He had trouble breathing; Vi was frantic and called for help. As they waited, Vi pleaded with Joe not to leave her alone.

Joe told her not to worry, "Just look in the mirror and see what I see, and it will be OK."

The ambulance came; they started for the hospital.  Vi rode with him, but Joe's heart stopped on the way. The medics did their best; they gave shots and shocks.  However, Joe did not respond.

The service was crowded with friends and family from all over the country; the flowers were six rows deep, and took three vans to move to the graveside. Vi cried and felt all alone. Kay and George tried to console her, but not even her grandchildren or new great-grandson could fill the void in her heart.

Her life seemed without joy. Her days are empty. The roses she planted between the house and his little shop smelled foul and made her sick. She went through the motions and prayed from her bed each night, "Oh please, Lord, don't let me wake to spend another day alone."

***
October 6th, on what would have been their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Vi skipped breakfast and worked in her yard to finish before it got too hot.  Getting out of her three-wheeled cycle, she rode to the store. She needed some groceries; Kay and the kids were coming that night.

Vi peddled back home; the Florida days were still very warm. She was sweating and exhausted. She lay on the couch. Her breathing was labored; she worked to calm herself, trying to regain her breath.

She looked at Joe's picture hanging on the wall and said to him, "OK, I've been waiting. Won't you come get me tonight?"  As she said this, there was a flash of pain in her chest, but it passed as quickly as it came. From her seat, she saw a strange glow in the full-length mirror on the wall in the hallway.

She got up from the sofa and went to look closer. As she approached the mirror, it showed a haze of fog. She stared at the mirror, trying to see through its mist. A figure moved closer, and her eyes opened wide with anticipation. She was hoping for a miracle.

But much to her surprise, it was not her Joe. No, it was a young woman with curly golden blond hair and a beautiful white gown hung from her shoulders. Her features were perfect, without any blemish, on her lips, red lipstick. She looked even closer, seeing her deep blue eyes. A light shined from behind her, causing the highlights in her hair to glow, projecting an aura and forming a distinct halo around her face. 

Then, as if struck by lightning, the realization came, and she understood. She finally recognized the face staring back at her. The reflection in the mirror was her own. "Oh, Joe, you crazy boy, is this what you saw?"

She cried out, "How ... can this be? It is not possible?" she reached out, touched the mirror, and was transported to the other side. From the reverse of the mirror, she looked back into her living room, and there on the sofa lay the girl she had seen the moment before.

A perfect vision. There was an Angel peacefully sleeping on her sofa. The sun beamed through the window, setting her a glow with shafts of golden light. She touched the glass again, but she could not pass back through.

She began to panic, "Oh, what have I done? How will I get the cake finished before Kay and the kids come?

A voice behind her said, "I wouldn't worry about them," Vi turned to find a handsome young man. He stood in a dapper white suit and a long-stemmed yellow rose in his hand.

Holding it out, he said, "Hello beautiful, how is my Angel? Oh, and I think you're gonna love the new car."