As if in memory I had carried a map of the green patches of lawns, the quiet neighborhood streets, picket fences. Complete with the sounds of children playing, I've always had these places that I could go back to at any time in my mind. Among these memories are the places to which I followed my older sister around to her haunts. If she didn’t want me there, all she had to do was walk a little faster leap onto the roofs of more sheds, scale the difficult fences, and soon I’d be padding down the sidewalk headed home. But I always held out hope that someday my big sister and I would be friends.
The sister who was born after me was the pretty one. The older was the intelligent one. I was the middle child until later on when two boys were born into the family.
Mom told stories of what a good baby I was – how contented I seemed to be. I was the only planned child, and I often wonder if this isn't what separated me from the others.
In any event, according to Mom’s descriptions, the younger sister was as malcontented as I was cheerful. Mom said she would break down crying herself after so many persistent hours of trying to appease the new, perpetually wailing baby girl.
There were only the three of us girls for what, in memory, seems to be a long time. Mom kept us hovered around the old, mostly Romanian neighborhood. To my Dad’s disapproval, we were never very far from Grandma and Tata.
We all walked to our elementary school, which was about fifteen blocks away. Across the street was a corner store called Tuttle’s, where upon opening the door, a sweet sounding bell rang to herald your arrival. The oiled wooden floors and isle ways of the small neighborhood merchant led first to a huge showcase loaded with candy of every imaginable kind. There were jawbreakers, sour apple gumballs, licorice, colorfully striated taffy strips, and more. The smell of garlic bologna from the meat coolers blended with the scents of bananas and spearmint from the candy case.
As we grew older, the two sisters were so closely paired that I ended up walking home alone most of the time. I was too easily distracted, and the two of them had no patience to wait for me whenever I got side tracked.
One of these alone times, a stray puppy found me and followed me home. I got to keep him until we had the house fire. He alerted us by barking hysterically, and he saved our lives, essentially. While we stayed with Grandma and Tata, the little puppy slipped away never to be seen again.
Other memories matched with my loner persona, because the next visual memory is of my small feet crossing a dew covered pasture in Mississippi. I was an early riser, even at that young age. I sort of didn’t care if my sisters were off somewhere else. I can remember that I truly did feel naturally content like Mom had described
In the Mississippi dawn, I’d head off to the landlord’s barn to ride his old quarter horse that Mr. Malory was kind enough to share. Every now and then, all three sisters would mount old Prince, with my older sister taking the lead, racing us down her wildly adventurous trails.
Occasionally we went exploring together tracing through the bayous, and swinging across them on vines. Or we might have gone berry picking in a field where, in our imaginations, we’d have to run for our lives from a mean bull.
We had a brother by then. He was an infant – not really in the picture yet.
After a few years there, we moved again. We relocated to Arkansas this time, and rented a magnificent old house at the foot of the Ozark Mountains. Mom joined us up with a Presbyterian church. It was quite a leap from our hometown Pentecostal Baptist Church, which I always remember as being quite scary.
But nobody was mean there – just dramatically demonstrative with blood curdling, prayerful shouts of “Oh Dominia” and tears, and
after the service there were pinches on our cheeks.
The kids in the Arkansas Sunday school were mean, and I refused to go there anymore. More than that, when a car hit and killed our dog, Fury, and the minister told me that dogs don’t go to heaven, I became quite distraught. That may have been the turning point in which I strayed away from conventional religion.
The two sisters and I slept in what was formerly a grand sunroom. Mother had begun to separate me from my two sisters. They had beds down at one end of the oblong room, and mine was near the entryway.
Dad worked nights and Mom and I paired off. We’d stay in Mom and Dad’s bed while he was away working the night shift. By the time he came home, it was convenient that way for him to carry me to my bed at the closer end of the three girl's room.
Mom had always looked upon me as some kind of old lady dwelling in a youthful body. Our nighttime talks consisted of marriage difficulties with my father, and other adult topics that I couldn’t understand. I dearly loved my father. I was his favorite, and he was mine.
I remember a lot of sadness there in Arkansas. The southerners rejected us for the most part, especially at our segregated school. Our clothing styles didn’t conform to theirs. I had two girlfriends Billy Zane, and Cassandra, but they lived quite far away. And even they would ask me why I say “ice cream” instead of “ahs cream.”
The new baby brother was aloof as he grew to be a toddler. He had a pet monkey stuffed animal he always carried around with him. With his one eared pal en hand he would sit on the couch rocking back and forth, bumping his head against the back of the couch for hours on end.
The terrain in Arkansas was similar to Mississippi with the valleys and grapevines to swing on. I had a girlfriend named Pam Jackson who lived down the street and who played in the foothills with me. I had innovated some primitive costumes that we could wear. Tarzan was really popular at the time, so I had made outfits like the ones that Jane wore.
The unique creativity that made the costumes neglected to include underwear. My girlfriend’s mother soon came to have a talk with Mom because of this. After which Mom announced plainly that I wouldn’t be having Pam for a friend anymore.
With Mom’s European background, she didn’t really think nudity (partial or otherwise) was really such a bad thing. She didn’t want us kids to have inhibitions about it either.
Our grandparents had left Mom in Romania for seven years while they worked on getting established in America. When they finally came back to get her, she was seven years old. They had veritably ripped her out of the arms of doting grandparents who she never saw again.
The Pentecostal Baptist church must have been like a cold shower when she came over from Romania, where she had lived with her freethinking grandparents. Grandma and Tata had joined up with other Romanian neighbors to create this community church. It signaled the end of the relaxed, uninhibited life Mom had known in Europe.
One day I came home from school and found her on the floor packing away her china from the glass faced hutch in the grand dining room of our splendid Southern house. We were going to move back north, she announced, tearfully. Mom would be giving up her journalistic work at the Memphis Press Semiter. It was the only time I had ever seen her cry, and it was heart wrenching.
We left Arkansas, but Dad didn’t come with us. His drinking buddy, Troy, drove the five of us to Ohio where we would live with Grandma and Tata. Dad came to visit there once, and that’s when our youngest brother was conceived out of the blue.
I was twelve years old when the new baby brother was born. Now we were a brood of five children, and Mom was taking care of us by herself.
Mom and Dad had planned me, and she imagined how I would be joyful like a Christmas Carol. Unfortunately, I came into the world with a tendency toward brooding and sullenness, and proceeded to fill up with righteous indignation as I matured. What a disappointment that must have been.
So, you see, events that happen are often planned in some other destiny that we mortals are bound to fulfill. I believe that it was a certain inward contentment that led me on my on path. Add in a few pinches, some pruning, and some molding. I was destined to be a loner, and it's quite alright with me.
