Stella Chung

IDC 1001H

Professor Hoffman

14 December 2017

18th Birthday

July 11, 1863 – 7:08 PM

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Niall! Happy birthday to you!” I looked around the room at all of my family members cramped into our tiny kitchen. I smiled. It was a rare occasion that we all gathered like this. I was happy for a moment, looked down at my mother’s homemade cake, and blew out the 18 candles. “Oh Niall, I remember your 13th birthday just like yesterday. How’d you get so big!” My aunt Clara wiped away a tear. She’s always so emotional these days. Ever since Uncle Jack passed away a few years ago from tuberculosis, she’s never been the same. “I’m still the same old kid, Aunt Clara. Still your favorite nephew!” I teased. She laughed, and my little brother, Sean, butted in. “Hey that’s not true, I’m Aunt Clara’s favorite. Right, Aunt Clara? You’re not cute anymore Niall, you’re old.” I chuckled. He was right. I was getting old; 18 already. Everyone was laughing, catching up and enjoying the cake. I was happy in the moment, but a deep sense of fear stirred in the bottom of my gut.

Everyone had left, and mom was tucking in Sean for bed. It was just me and my dad in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of the party. “The cake was good, right dad?” My father always had a stern look on his face. It’s like he had a permanent scowl. He looked up from the dishes. “Huh… Oh yes, your mother has the best chocolate cake in the city.” I know he doesn’t mean to look so angry all the time. It’s just now that we have Aunt Clara staying with us and the war in effect, money’s been tight. The Union just had a huge victory at Gettysburg a few days ago. Things were looking up, maybe the war would be over soon, and we’d get out of this economic draught. There were rumors of people getting laid off at the press, and Pa was more stress than ever. People were blaming the blacks apparently stealing the jobs after Lincoln freed them. “You know, pops, I saw this sign down at Mott St about a job opening at Lenny’s butcher shop. I could work weekends and after school…” He immediately shot up. “Son, I’ve told you this already, you don’t need a job. You need to finish high school first. Then you worry about a job.” My heart hurt, and I couldn’t shake off the guilt. While I was getting the privilege to be the first in the family to go to high school, my father was breaking his back at the printing press folding newspapers. For the rest of the night, it was silence. We finished cleaning up and went to bed.

July 12, 1863 – 9:22 AM

Sunday morning, my favorite day of the week. I stretched out my arms, almost knocking the lamp off the dresser. Thank goodness, I caught it. I looked across the room, and Sean was still fast asleep. Our room was the biggest bedroom in the house, not that that’s saying much. Sean had his bed, desk, and drawers a few feet away from mine. Our parents took the smaller room so that we’d be able to fit. I gazed up at the ceiling. The old wallpaper was peeling off, revealing the grimy, moldy wood of the apartment. Outside, the kids were kicking around the same old ball, shooting into makeshift goals. Pedestrians walked along the cracked sidewalks, and store owners dusted out the front of their shops. Ah, the beautiful neighborhood of the lower east side. We’d been living in this building ever since grandma and grandpops moved here from Ireland. “Niall …” Sean said groggily. I looked over and chuckled as my little brother struggled to get up. “Let’s go to the park. You promised to take me, remember? You promised. Jokingly I said, “Huh, Sean I don’t recall making that kind of promise, I think I’m just gonna stay –” I saw the tears starting to build up and I stopped myself, “Hey buddy, I was just kidding. Of course, I remember. C’mon, let’s go eat breakfast.” I slowly got up from bed, as he shot down the stairs.

As I made my way into the kitchen, I could see my mother sitting by the kitchen table with Aunt Clara. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and it looked like she was crying. She looked up, saw me coming and immediately wiped away her tears and smiled. “Look who it is, our new man in the house. How do you feel Niall? Any older?” I was confused. What just happened? “Yeah ma, I could feel myself grow another inch in my sleep. I even had to shave my beard this morning.” She and aunt Clara let out a loud hysteric laugh. “Oh, you jokester you, that sense of humor definitely doesn’t grow old!” My aunt Clara exclaimed. My mother got up and started to pour Ben some oatmeal. “So, anything new? Where’s the paper at?” Since dad worked at the printing joint, he pulled a few strings and we get free newspapers from the Times. “Oh… Yes, that’s a good question. I don’t think it came. Nothing to worry about though. I’m sure we’re not missing anything. Just eat your oatmeal, and how about we all enjoy some cookies and milk for lunch?” Sean slammed his spoon in his oatmeal. “NO!! Niall promised to take me to the park. We’re going to the park right after I finish my oatmeal.” My mother looked distressed, and I wasn’t really sure why. I could tell she really didn’t want us going out. I looked at her and then at Sean. “Oh yeah, I did promise you that buddy… But I also promised ma we’d help with the cookies. I totally forgot.” I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. “No no buddy, you know what, I could pull out the cards and we could play go fish!” His eyes lit up, “Go fish! Oh, I love go fish!” I laughed as Sean shoved oatmeal down his mouth, but in the corner of my eye, I could see my mother take a sigh of relief.

As Sean and I played go fish in the living room, I could hear my mother and aunt quietly talking to one another. I caught bits and pieces; “draft… the war… President Lincoln… riot…” An idea was taking shape in my head, but I didn’t want to believe it. “Hey ma,” I yelled, “Where’s pa?” I just realized my father was the only person missing. It took me all this time to realize. He doesn’t usually work on Sundays. My mother seemed entranced, staring off into space, but lapsed in and out saying, “Oh… your father… yes… he got called into work.” That was strange. He only gets called in when it’s an emergency, and something big’s going on. “Go fish. Niall, I said go fish! It’s your turn!” I blinked my eyes, returning from my train of thought. “Sorry about that buddy, I just got caught up for a second.” We finished what seemed like the 100th round of go fish, and Sean finally got bored and fell asleep on the couch. My aunt was knitting in the kitchen while my mother prepared dinner. I went in and confronted my mother, “Ma, c’mon, what’s going on with the news today? I could tell something’s up. You could tell me ma, I’m 18 now. I can handle it.” She reluctantly looked up from her potatoes cooking in the water and winced, “I know, Niall. I just don’t want you to worry… The draft picks have started, and there’s been riots going on in Buffalo and other cities…” I was confused, “So what, ma? What’s that gotta do with pops?” My mother looked over at Aunt Clara, she gave a concerned nod of approval. “The second round of draft pickings are tomorrow. James, you might be drafted.”

Why did my mom have to give birth to me on July 11th? She couldn’t have held me in for another week or two? That’s not too much to ask for. Initially, I was relieved. “Oh, so pops is fine?” My mother put her hand on mine, “Yes, your father’s fine. They needed him to come in to work overtime and get ready for tomorrow’s paper.” I looked at my mother’s small, dainty hand on top of mine which were almost twice her size. I started to feel the nervous. “What are the odds I’m picked ma? I mean, I only turned 18 yesterday, that’s gotta mean somethin…” My mother perked up, “Niall, honey, don’t worry. Everything will be fine, if we have to, we’ll pay to get you–” I knew where she was going, “Ma don’t be insane. We don’t got the $300 to get me out of the draft… I’ll go ma… I’ll go.” She grew angry, “Niall Harris O’Brien, you listen here, you are not going to fight in that war. You are finishing school. And you’re gonna get a good job, and leave this neighborhood…” Her voice broke, and she began to sob. I held her in my arms, “I know ma, you’re right. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

The rest of the night, we had dinner and then lounged in the living room. Sean played with his makeshift toy soldiers made of old spoons with faces drawn on them. Aunt Clara was reading a book, and Ma was folding up some clothes. We pretended like everything was fine. I almost believed it, too. I enjoyed the moment. Pa came home real late, and I was already in bed. I could hear him climb up the stairs and talk with my mother. “Honey, what if Niall gets picked.” I heard my mother whisper. “Nora, everything’s gonna be fine. I got some money saved…” My father grudgingly sighed. I heard the door close, and the conversation ended. I stared at my ceiling, the crusty, old wall. I could make it, I thought to myself. It’ll be a good thing for me. I’ll get big and strong, and I heard when you come back, there’s a bunch of benefits. I went over all the good things that could come out of it, as I drifted off to sleep.

July 13, 1863 – 11:09PM

I woke up to the usual calm of the morning, a little too calm. It was about 11AM. I normally wouldn’t wake up so late, because school starts at 8:00AM, but it was July, summer vacation, and I had stayed up so late last night with so much on my mind. There were no kids in the street, which was odd. Sean was already out of bed, probably downstairs eating breakfast. I didn’t want to get out of bed and face the truth to come. I mustered up my courage, pulled myself out of the covers, and marched down the stairs. It was like de ja vu, my mother and aunt were in the kitchen again, talking in a serious hushed tone, except this time there was fear in their eyes. Sean was eating breakfast like nothing was happening. “Ma, what’s the matter?” She looked up with a grim face, “There’s a riot going on uptown at the marshal’s office where they make the draft picks.” She handed me a piece of paper, it said: “Stay out of the streets. There’s going to be a riot at the Marshal’s Office. Take care of Niall and Sean. Everything will be fine. – F.” Who wrote this note? Why would they sign off as F? Then suddenly, I realized; F, for Finn. “Where’s pa!” I desperately cried.

“C’mon, I know you hear me, where’s pa? Did he go to work? Is this a warning? He works right by the marshal’s office. Is he okay? He needs to come home.” My mother was weeping, “Niall, honey, your father left. He’s in the riot.” My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe it. A flurry of thoughts rushed over me. I suddenly felt like it was my fault. From not having a job to coming of age to being drafted, my father was out there fighting for me. “I couldn’t stop him. He was mad with anger. He left with a bunch of friends from work and people from the neighborhood,” my mother let out. I was stunned. “I should be out there. I have to go help him.” My mother rushed to my side as I started for the door. “Niall, you are not leaving this house,” she screamed. “Not over my dead body!” Tears started to well up in my eyes. I didn’t want to go, but my dad was out there. “I gotta help pops. He could get hurt, I gotta help him. This is my fault.” I felt helpless and fell to the ground.

Four days later…

July 17, 1863 – 1:27PM

The rioting lasted three days. My dad was gone for three days. We weren’t let out of the house. Nobody spoke. The papers still came in, and the death counts were rising. I slept, barely, but I don’t think my mother ever went into her bedroom. The papers announced the draft would be postponed, and the militia was returning. Rioters were staying home, and force was used to resist the rest. Numbers were thrown out around town. “50 killed… 100 killed…” The final count was around 119-120 people killed. What began as a draft riot had turned out to be a huge lynching. A lot of blacks in the neighborhood left or were already gone. The storm calmed down, and the nightmare was finally over. But father never returned home. It looked like I wasn’t getting drafted anytime soon, so I went down to Lenny’s Butcher Shop and took the job.