A Mother's Stories

My mother didn't always have children's books around when we were little, so she would tell us stories. Some stories she made up; others were based on her childhood. One story in particular she told us as a way to teach us how to take care of each other in times of possible danger.

She had two younger sisters, just as I have, and they would go places together at a very young age. They lived in a small city, and were told by their father to go outside and play whenever he saw them hanging around the house. So,they spent their days traveling around the city streets meeting friends and other people.

One day they met an old man who asked them if they wanted some candy, and all they had to do was go to his house with him. My mother knew better and took her sisters away from him. One day they met him again and he asked if they would go to his house to get some treats. The younger of the two sisters said she would and started off with him. It took all my mother's strength to drag her away. Naturally this sister was angry at my mother and said she could do whatever she wanted. So my mother took them home and waited for their father to get home from work. She told him about the man and how her sister wanted to go with him. My grandfather became very angry and told them never to go near that man again because he was a very bad man and would hurt them if he had the chance. So from then on her sisters paid attention to what she said.

My mother told different versions of this story every so often to make sure we remembered. She also let us have a treat every night from the corner store before we went to bed so we wouldn't be tempted by strange men offering us candy. I don't know if this story was true or not but at the time I believed every word and apparently my sisters did, too.

When my youngest sister was first starting school and walking by herself sometimes, she was passed on the street by a man. At the same time her teacher had been warned about a man trying to lure kids. My sister somehow heard the adults talking about him and connected the man who passed her on the street to this man the teacher was warned about. She was very frightened but didn't tell anyone. She had a few nightmares
but after awhile, she forgot about it. Later, when she was an adult, she went for some therapy and this whole incident came back to her.

So, what does this mean? I've never been able to decide if my mother was right in her methods or if she should have been more discreet and less descriptive in her story-telling. I certainly don't blame her for my sister's buried fear, and I know my sister doesn't. When it comes right down to it, my mother's story was probably not the cause of my sister's reaction at all.