Starting Again
Mom had continued to work after I left for Germany, but not at the hotel switchboard and office. She'd gotten a job at DeKalb in the office where she worked till the Multiple Sclerosis forced her to quit. (Though at the time she still didn't know it was M.S.) She had bought her own car but now she had to give up driving. Dad was driving an older Buick station wagon and that was the car they gave me to drive. (This is one wife who got nothing in her divorce.) Something had to be done in my brothers apartment, I forget what, but S had come "back home" too for a brief time. Both of my brothers worked for Quaker Oats, till J went off to join the Marines. When S tried to get in the service, he was turned down when they found a problem in an x-ray of his back. He's never had any trouble with his back, but it kept him out of the service.
S had a new girlfriend, but while we were all living together he was also good enough to take his sister to the movies a few times. I did wonder about his motive though. When he drove his car, he always seemed to need gas when he took me out. Which meant stopping at a local gas station where some of his co-workers and the new town friends hung out. They had never met me and didn't know I was his sister. They thought he was seeing two women, and I never told anyone differently. I believe my brother was enjoying (encouraging, even) the deception.
There was one other occurance with S during that time, that has become legend in our family. I was driving the station wagon and we were leaving a parking lot behind the theater. I went down an alley to the main street, which put me between two tall buildings where you couldn't see anything till you reached the street. As soon as we cleared the buildings, three teenage boys, who were running down the side walk, ran right into us. The first boy was thrown across the hood of the Buick and bounced out in the street. The second boy tried to jump the car and landed on the hood. The third boy was a able to swerve around us. All three boys were right back on their feet and kept running. Of course, I had slammed on the brakes right away and stalled the car. You can imagine how shaken I was, even though the boys ran off. But, to S's amusement, we couldn't get the car started again. We called Dad, who had to call AAA when he couldn't start it either, and the car was towed away. So my family still teases me about the time I hit the boys, and killed the car.
My baby, J T, had his second birthday while we were living with Mom and Dad. They potty trained him while I was at school and working. They were with him more than I was and it made me sad. Also, I was worried about Moms health. I had hired a young woman to help Mom with J T (see "Moms Illness" posted March 9) but that wasn't working out. Dad was studying for a Realty License, along with working at a factory. We still didn't know what Moms illness was and we were all under a lot of stress. I felt that J T and I were a burden, but didn't have the resourses to move out.
W. P.'s parents had hept in touch with me, and R.P. sent her son to see me as soon as he returned from his Army tour in Germany. Maybe, I didn't wait long enough, but I'd always liked W and I adored his Mother. I'd been there about 10 months, and only divorced about 4 months when I agreed to marry W. I really was totally infatuated with him. Most of the people who knew us seemed to agree I should have married W in the first place, when we'd just been friends and he was dating one of my friends. (They broke up when she went off to college, about the same time G and I were married.) And, this time my parents were happy for me, and didn't have any objections.
Before the wedding, W and I found some land and we drew up our own floor plans. Actually, he and his Father made several changes, but I was ok with anything that meant I was going to have a new home. And, it was on 5 acres out in the coutry, with woods surrounding us. The basement was dug and we started the house early in the spring of 1968. We were married on May 25 and lived in an apartment for a few months before moving into the basement of the new house. We were building it with the help of his family. From floor plan to completion, we only paid for digging out the basement and laying the blocks for the basement, and chimney bricks. We did the rest ourselves. His parents and his Mothers family had all built their own homes and we had their expertise and help. Even the kitchen cupboards were built by family. His Grandfather and an Uncle were carpenters. I was happier than I'd ever been.
But, there was one bump on my new road and it showed up while we still lived in the apartment. We'd been working on the house all day and I'd been sent to the lumber store on some errand. J T had stayed on site while I was gone. That evening, when I was giving my son his bath and turned him around to wash his back, I discovered bruises all over his bottom and on the back of his thighs. I grabbed him up and marched into the living room, dripping water all the way. I told the man I loved if I ever saw another mark on this child, we would be gone before he could draw a breath to defend himself. I never saw another bruise.
S had a new girlfriend, but while we were all living together he was also good enough to take his sister to the movies a few times. I did wonder about his motive though. When he drove his car, he always seemed to need gas when he took me out. Which meant stopping at a local gas station where some of his co-workers and the new town friends hung out. They had never met me and didn't know I was his sister. They thought he was seeing two women, and I never told anyone differently. I believe my brother was enjoying (encouraging, even) the deception.
There was one other occurance with S during that time, that has become legend in our family. I was driving the station wagon and we were leaving a parking lot behind the theater. I went down an alley to the main street, which put me between two tall buildings where you couldn't see anything till you reached the street. As soon as we cleared the buildings, three teenage boys, who were running down the side walk, ran right into us. The first boy was thrown across the hood of the Buick and bounced out in the street. The second boy tried to jump the car and landed on the hood. The third boy was a able to swerve around us. All three boys were right back on their feet and kept running. Of course, I had slammed on the brakes right away and stalled the car. You can imagine how shaken I was, even though the boys ran off. But, to S's amusement, we couldn't get the car started again. We called Dad, who had to call AAA when he couldn't start it either, and the car was towed away. So my family still teases me about the time I hit the boys, and killed the car.
My baby, J T, had his second birthday while we were living with Mom and Dad. They potty trained him while I was at school and working. They were with him more than I was and it made me sad. Also, I was worried about Moms health. I had hired a young woman to help Mom with J T (see "Moms Illness" posted March 9) but that wasn't working out. Dad was studying for a Realty License, along with working at a factory. We still didn't know what Moms illness was and we were all under a lot of stress. I felt that J T and I were a burden, but didn't have the resourses to move out.
W. P.'s parents had hept in touch with me, and R.P. sent her son to see me as soon as he returned from his Army tour in Germany. Maybe, I didn't wait long enough, but I'd always liked W and I adored his Mother. I'd been there about 10 months, and only divorced about 4 months when I agreed to marry W. I really was totally infatuated with him. Most of the people who knew us seemed to agree I should have married W in the first place, when we'd just been friends and he was dating one of my friends. (They broke up when she went off to college, about the same time G and I were married.) And, this time my parents were happy for me, and didn't have any objections.
Before the wedding, W and I found some land and we drew up our own floor plans. Actually, he and his Father made several changes, but I was ok with anything that meant I was going to have a new home. And, it was on 5 acres out in the coutry, with woods surrounding us. The basement was dug and we started the house early in the spring of 1968. We were married on May 25 and lived in an apartment for a few months before moving into the basement of the new house. We were building it with the help of his family. From floor plan to completion, we only paid for digging out the basement and laying the blocks for the basement, and chimney bricks. We did the rest ourselves. His parents and his Mothers family had all built their own homes and we had their expertise and help. Even the kitchen cupboards were built by family. His Grandfather and an Uncle were carpenters. I was happier than I'd ever been.
But, there was one bump on my new road and it showed up while we still lived in the apartment. We'd been working on the house all day and I'd been sent to the lumber store on some errand. J T had stayed on site while I was gone. That evening, when I was giving my son his bath and turned him around to wash his back, I discovered bruises all over his bottom and on the back of his thighs. I grabbed him up and marched into the living room, dripping water all the way. I told the man I loved if I ever saw another mark on this child, we would be gone before he could draw a breath to defend himself. I never saw another bruise.
posted by LeeAnn | 6:18 PM
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