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.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Dark to Light
When I was in third grade, my friends and I sometimes walked home from school. This school was near the library and close to the town center. I lived the farthest away and my friends left me one by one as we walked. The last part of the trip I walked alone but it was very comfortable for me because I knew most of the people in the houses along the way. This was not true for the very beginning of the trip.
The school was set a ways back from the street with a long driveway to the sidewalk that led to Main Street. Unfortunately for me there also was a path which went through the woods to Main Street. I don't know if the town created it or if it was a private drive but most of the kids used it. The first time I walked the path was a time when the weather was overcast and dreary. My friends assured me that it was perfectly safe and they had walked it many times. What they didn't tell me about was the haunted house located in the middle of the woods.
Because the day was so dark, the woods were even darker than usual, and scary. It was hard to believe we were in the center of town. If it hadn't been for the path, I would have been lost. It wasn't long before we reached the house. It was black and run-down with the trees and shrubbery looming over everything. I wanted to run but my friends were acting as if nothing was wrong and I decided I couldn't let them know I was afraid. So, I kept walking and talking and looking everywhere but at that house. Before long we reached the street and safety. Even though I vowed never to walk that way again, every time my friends wanted to walk home, I walked with them and they always took that path. After awhile I got to used to walking past that house, too, but I never forgot how scary it was.
When my daughter was planning her wedding, we decided to have the ceremony in my home town. The caterers we were using said they had a victorian style house not far from the church that they used for special events. We went to inspect it and it was beautiful with indoor and outdoor spaces for entertaining. While I was looking around, I felt a strange wave of emotion pass over me. On closer inspection, I realized that this beautiful victorian house filled with light and beauty was the same dark ugly house, that dark and run-down haunted house, that used to frighten me when I walked that path through the woods to reach the safety of Main Street.
The school was set a ways back from the street with a long driveway to the sidewalk that led to Main Street. Unfortunately for me there also was a path which went through the woods to Main Street. I don't know if the town created it or if it was a private drive but most of the kids used it. The first time I walked the path was a time when the weather was overcast and dreary. My friends assured me that it was perfectly safe and they had walked it many times. What they didn't tell me about was the haunted house located in the middle of the woods.
Because the day was so dark, the woods were even darker than usual, and scary. It was hard to believe we were in the center of town. If it hadn't been for the path, I would have been lost. It wasn't long before we reached the house. It was black and run-down with the trees and shrubbery looming over everything. I wanted to run but my friends were acting as if nothing was wrong and I decided I couldn't let them know I was afraid. So, I kept walking and talking and looking everywhere but at that house. Before long we reached the street and safety. Even though I vowed never to walk that way again, every time my friends wanted to walk home, I walked with them and they always took that path. After awhile I got to used to walking past that house, too, but I never forgot how scary it was.
When my daughter was planning her wedding, we decided to have the ceremony in my home town. The caterers we were using said they had a victorian style house not far from the church that they used for special events. We went to inspect it and it was beautiful with indoor and outdoor spaces for entertaining. While I was looking around, I felt a strange wave of emotion pass over me. On closer inspection, I realized that this beautiful victorian house filled with light and beauty was the same dark ugly house, that dark and run-down haunted house, that used to frighten me when I walked that path through the woods to reach the safety of Main Street.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Big Girl Hair
My mother decided one day to take my younger sisters and me to a salon to get our hair cut. I'm not sure why but it may have been that she was tired of combing three heads of long hair and braiding or otherwise styling those three heads for school and church. So one summer day we set off on the local bus for the big city.
The salon wasn't exactly downtown but it was clean and probably inexpensive, and it was on the busline. All three of us had hair below our shoulder blades which had never been cut except for trims by our mother. We couldn't wait to have our long braids cut off. Sometime during the process, the hair stylist talked my mother into having our hair permed. Whatever she did was alright with us. We were happy enough just being there and having someone besides our mother wash and style our hair.
When it was all over, we admired the beautiful new hairdos. I'm sure they looked delightful in the salon, but after the days went by, they changed into strange-looking hair mops. By the time school started, I'm sure my mother wished she had never had it done. Our school pictures show us with hair styles that clearly reflect the attempt my mother made to make us look presentable. We all laugh about those hairstyles now, but at the time we knew we were both beautiful and stylish.
The salon wasn't exactly downtown but it was clean and probably inexpensive, and it was on the busline. All three of us had hair below our shoulder blades which had never been cut except for trims by our mother. We couldn't wait to have our long braids cut off. Sometime during the process, the hair stylist talked my mother into having our hair permed. Whatever she did was alright with us. We were happy enough just being there and having someone besides our mother wash and style our hair.
When it was all over, we admired the beautiful new hairdos. I'm sure they looked delightful in the salon, but after the days went by, they changed into strange-looking hair mops. By the time school started, I'm sure my mother wished she had never had it done. Our school pictures show us with hair styles that clearly reflect the attempt my mother made to make us look presentable. We all laugh about those hairstyles now, but at the time we knew we were both beautiful and stylish.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Fresh Start
This time of year always brings back memories of the excitement of starting another school year. No matter how well or badly the previous year ended, I believed that this year all my experiences would be wonderful; I was always optimistic.
A few weeks before school began, my mother would take us shopping for new first-day clothes. This was always one outfit each because with six kids that was all she could afford. But what an occasion it was. Because my mother didn't drive and didn't have a car to use anyway, we would take the bus into the big city. In those days there were no malls and all our shopping was done in the one store where my mother had an account. I don't know how she did it, but she managed to outfit all of us from underwear to shoes.
I remember one year especially when I was in junior high school. I found this beautiful wool plaid straight skirt that I just had to have for school. My mother let me buy it and then proceeded to help me find a matching blouse and cardigan to wear with it. I'll never forget dressing for that first day in my new clothes. My mother kindly suggested that maybe I should save the outfit for another day since the temperature was unusually warm for that time of year, but I wouldn't hear of it. I determinedly got dressed and went to school. As the day passed I got hotter and hotter in my wool outfit but I refused to take off even my sweater because I was sure the desired effect of my outfit would be ruined. I suffered through the entire day but went home secure in the knowledge that my outfit was the envy of all my classmates.
A few weeks before school began, my mother would take us shopping for new first-day clothes. This was always one outfit each because with six kids that was all she could afford. But what an occasion it was. Because my mother didn't drive and didn't have a car to use anyway, we would take the bus into the big city. In those days there were no malls and all our shopping was done in the one store where my mother had an account. I don't know how she did it, but she managed to outfit all of us from underwear to shoes.
I remember one year especially when I was in junior high school. I found this beautiful wool plaid straight skirt that I just had to have for school. My mother let me buy it and then proceeded to help me find a matching blouse and cardigan to wear with it. I'll never forget dressing for that first day in my new clothes. My mother kindly suggested that maybe I should save the outfit for another day since the temperature was unusually warm for that time of year, but I wouldn't hear of it. I determinedly got dressed and went to school. As the day passed I got hotter and hotter in my wool outfit but I refused to take off even my sweater because I was sure the desired effect of my outfit would be ruined. I suffered through the entire day but went home secure in the knowledge that my outfit was the envy of all my classmates.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Easter Bunny
My husband and I went shopping today and I couldn't help thinking about all the days I went shopping for new clothes with my mother. Probably the earliest memory I have is shopping for new clothes to wear on Easter Sunday. This time was so special and exciting because we got to buy pretty dresses too good for school, and fancy dress shoes and socks that had to be saved for church. I can still remember the black patent leather flats that my mother bought for me but which my father said were made of cardboard and would fall apart if they got wet. I thought they were beautiful, and every time I wore them I believed that all the other little girls were watching me and envying me my shoes.
One Easter season we didn't have to shop for dresses because an aunt, my father's sister in California, sent us dresses that she had made for us. They were made of polka-dotted cloth in navy blue and yellow. She made each of us a different dress by using different colored cloth for different pattern pieces. So, even though the dress pattern was the same, our dresses were different but coordinating. We loved them.
On Easter morning we came downstairs and found our Easter clothes laid out on the furniture in the living room with the baskets that the Easter Bunny left us. Even though we had taken part in the shopping for all these new clothes, they all looked so wonderful that we forgot what had gone on before and almost believed the Easter Bunny had brought those, too.
One Easter season we didn't have to shop for dresses because an aunt, my father's sister in California, sent us dresses that she had made for us. They were made of polka-dotted cloth in navy blue and yellow. She made each of us a different dress by using different colored cloth for different pattern pieces. So, even though the dress pattern was the same, our dresses were different but coordinating. We loved them.
On Easter morning we came downstairs and found our Easter clothes laid out on the furniture in the living room with the baskets that the Easter Bunny left us. Even though we had taken part in the shopping for all these new clothes, they all looked so wonderful that we forgot what had gone on before and almost believed the Easter Bunny had brought those, too.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Lost Memories
The lack of memories is a good thing. Or, more to the point, the lack of bad memories is a good thing. When I remember only happy times at school, I know that nothing bad happened to me that year. When I remember nothing about a particular school year, then I know it was a happy year.
When I was seven, we moved to a different town and I entered second grade at a neighborhood school. I had never been to a neighborhood school before and it was a complete change from my previous experience. This school was near my house so I was able to walk there, plus it was small with only two or three grades. My younger sister was in first grade that year but I don't remember anything about her except for a few vague memories of us walking home together. It was a good time.
My first day is definitely engraved in my memories. I remember walking to school. I remember the little girl who was assigned to be my friend for the day and show me around. I remember the playground at recess and how the girls mostly sat on the ground under a huge oak tree and talked about girl things. I remember the boys running around and playing their games. I remember the jungle gym, the slide and the swings which I would play on during many recesses in the future.
I had a wonderful year there with friends from my neighborhood at that small neighborhood school. I remember the fun but the memories are lost and that's a good thing.
When I was seven, we moved to a different town and I entered second grade at a neighborhood school. I had never been to a neighborhood school before and it was a complete change from my previous experience. This school was near my house so I was able to walk there, plus it was small with only two or three grades. My younger sister was in first grade that year but I don't remember anything about her except for a few vague memories of us walking home together. It was a good time.
My first day is definitely engraved in my memories. I remember walking to school. I remember the little girl who was assigned to be my friend for the day and show me around. I remember the playground at recess and how the girls mostly sat on the ground under a huge oak tree and talked about girl things. I remember the boys running around and playing their games. I remember the jungle gym, the slide and the swings which I would play on during many recesses in the future.
I had a wonderful year there with friends from my neighborhood at that small neighborhood school. I remember the fun but the memories are lost and that's a good thing.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Exciting Places
I grew up in a small town. Small towns are happy places in many ways, and in those days, very safe for children. My siblings and I spent many summer days roaming our neighborhood and my mother never worried. In the process of exploring the area, we never considered that our neighbors would be displeased if we used their yards as a shortcut to somewhere else.
My favorite shortcut was on the property of neighbors who lived across the street from us. Their house was set back from the road with a long driveway which led straight to the front door. Some of our friends in the neighborhood told us that there was a shortcut behind this house which would take us to the town center, and one day they showed us the way. We walked down the long driveway straight to the house, then around the house to their backyard, and onto the path which took us through the woods. It seemed to me that first time that the woods went on forever, but we finally burst out of the shade and into the sunshine of a dirt road populated with a few houses and a lot of barking dogs. We followed the dirt road to the end, and arrived at our destination at last. We were thrilled. From then on we frequently took that shortcut whenever we had the urge to go downtown. When my mother found out, she wasn't pleased and told us to get our neighbor's permission. Of course, we never did and continued to use the shortcut. But the constant risk of being caught and hollered at by our neighbor only added to our fun and made our excursions to town delightfully exciting.
My favorite shortcut was on the property of neighbors who lived across the street from us. Their house was set back from the road with a long driveway which led straight to the front door. Some of our friends in the neighborhood told us that there was a shortcut behind this house which would take us to the town center, and one day they showed us the way. We walked down the long driveway straight to the house, then around the house to their backyard, and onto the path which took us through the woods. It seemed to me that first time that the woods went on forever, but we finally burst out of the shade and into the sunshine of a dirt road populated with a few houses and a lot of barking dogs. We followed the dirt road to the end, and arrived at our destination at last. We were thrilled. From then on we frequently took that shortcut whenever we had the urge to go downtown. When my mother found out, she wasn't pleased and told us to get our neighbor's permission. Of course, we never did and continued to use the shortcut. But the constant risk of being caught and hollered at by our neighbor only added to our fun and made our excursions to town delightfully exciting.
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