Mindy and Me

I could never have imagined how much my life would improve with Mindy for a friend. In so many ways, she taught me the meaning of gratitude, humility, compassion and other important characteristics. Being with and helping Mindy was such a pleasure, and for the first time in my life, I had a sister. Mindy loved me for just exactly what I was. Through her eyes, I began to see myself as a bit of a spoiled, and ungrateful child. I had come from a home with a grandmother and mother who cared for me, although sometimes I did not realize the sacrifice that was made on my behalf. Mindy came from a home where no one cared or could care for her or her siblings. In my home, I was not beaten, I had food, some clothes, and a bed . If I felt neglected, it was because my mother worked all the time, and my grandmother was ill. Yes, we were poor, but that is no shame. My grandmother was known as a good woman and honored by all who knew her, and she taught me many good qualities and skills. At night I was warm in my bed, and I even had a cat.
Mindy had none of these things. Her father was a vicious, abusive alcoholic and made life hell for her entire family. He would become drunk and enraged at the smallest slight and beat Mindy, her mother and her siblings with anything he could find. He would not work, and often the family was hungry and cold. The house was little more than a shack and the children slept on the floor, sharing blankets. Clothing and shoes were precious, and medical care non-existent. Mindy did her best to care for her siblings, but she could never do enough. She spent much time in the woods, looking for wild fruit, and trying to kill rabbits and squirrels for meat. She knew to stay out of her father's way, and quietly went about doing whatever she could for the family. Finally, one day, in an alcoholic rage, Mindy's father screamed that they would be better off dead, because the world was such an evil place. He picked up a loaded rifle and began to level it at her mother. Her mother screamed at Mindy to get out with the children. Mindy grabbed the little ones and herded the older children into the woods. Her last sight of her mother was to see her wrestling with the rifle in order to give the children more time. As Mindy ran deep into the trees, she heard the report of the rifle, and knew that her mother had lost the fight. Mindy could not go home, she did not know where her father was or what he would do. It was not until days later, after Mindy was forced to go for help, that she found out that her father had killed himself after he had shot her mother.
I was surprised that Mindy did not feel sorry for herself. Of course she missed her brothers and sisters, as they were situated in other cottages, but she had a bright outlook. Mindy felt that she and her siblings had been saved by Heavenly Father and sent to a place where they would receive blessings far greater than they had ever known. She was overwhelmed with gratitude. Seeing her positive attitude, I realized that I had been selfish and childish for not being more understanding of mother's choice to put us in the home. Perhaps I could have been more supportive, more helping, more loving to mother. It must have been so hard for her to have to support 3 children and her own mother, with no help from Dad as he was in prison. Learning to know Mindy taught me that there are certainly others who have had really serious difficulties, and I understood that my life was really no so very bad.
There were other things too. Mindy didn't mind work. I did. I was glad that we were "chore partners" meaning that we were paired up to work. She was a whirlwind at everything she did, commenting on the ease of our chores because we had things like running water, indoor bathrooms, washing machines and even dryers! She would get in the kitchen and turn out our share of the cooking with a smile on her face. Mindy loved discovering all the wonderful foods available to her that the rest of us took for granted. She loved the fresh fruits, the canned meats and the abundance of the supply. She quickly learned from Mrs. Thompson how to make biscuits, corn bread and all kinds of desserts. Mindy was a whiz in the kitchen. Me, now, that was another story. I had to cook and clean just like all the other girls, but helping with breakfast meant that I had to get up extra early. (and kind of grouchy). There were eggs to scramble, oatmeal to cook, toast to toast, bacon to broil and the table to set. Miss whirlwind, (Mindy) would hop out of bed, get dressed, make her bed and trot to the kitchen even before I had my eyes open and my feet on the floor. I knew that she would have happily done all the chores for me, but I didn't want to take advantage, and so I lumbered to the kitchen behind her. Just about everytime, she would race around to the different cooking posts mixing, stirring, shaping, and loading pans nibbling on everything as she went. Unused to having an abundance, she would eat without stopping. Usually she would give me a bright grin and yell, "C'mon slowpoke! I saved a chore for you!" and usually it was something easy like making juice or putting out jams and butter. It wasn't long before I began to realize what a gift in my life that Mindy was. We had the cleanest room, the crispest clothes, and the best made beds of any of the girls. Mindy did not mix well with the other girls, preferring to stay close to me. She would talk of her life in the woods, and I would try to hide my revulsion at the horrors she told me. Not all of it was bad though, sometime she would tell of a country christmas, spare on gifts but rich on love from her mother and siblings. She would describe birds of all colors, flowers scented and lovely, wild greens that she would pick for supper and tell of the woodland animals. She loved these things. Mindy talked of fishing, and how she excelled at the catch. She knew her mother relied on her to help, and she did the best she could. Mindy missed her mother. She grieved for the sad life that her mother had endured. She swore that she would never find herself in the same situation, and would always make sure that any man she married would respect and love her. She talked of her mother's beauty, marred by scars from beatings and wrinkles from worry. Her mother was thin, and her bones were prominent in her face, hands and feet. Mindy said that she wanted so much to have been able to spare her mother from the horror of the marriage that she was trapped in. What could I say in response to this information? My mother worked all the time? We were poor? We weren't poor in relation to what Mindy knew as poverty, actually, we were quite affluent in comparison. Could I complain that I only had one pair of shoes? Mindy usually had no shoes. Could I gripe about the excess of inexpensive meats on the table? Mindy ate squirrel that she had to kill. Could I whine about the fact that I felt neglected? Mindy was beaten with the end of a broken fishing pole, a frying pan, or a rope. I could certainly do without that kind of attention! Yes, she was a gift to me. A mirror in which I could see the attitude of pity that I carried up front. Knowing and being with Mindy taught me so much.
We enjoyed walking to school each day, having classes together, lunch together and walking home together. We shared our allowances, so that we could afford things that we could not buy by ourselves. We worked together, laughed together, cried sometimes and avoided the matron together. One thing was for sure, Mindy was just as afraid of her as I was! One late Saturday night, Mindy and I awoke to a chilling noise. One of the girls was crying and screaming, and in addition we heard the steady whack of someone being struck. Although we were very frightened, Mindy and I sneaked down the hall to see what was happening. We were not alone. Other girls were already standing outside the Matron's room, hunching over to listen through the door. The matron was paddling someone. Over and over the paddle struck, each time to a louder screech from the girl. The poor girl was begging her to quit, but to no avail. Finally, it stopped, and over the loud sobbing of the girl, we could hear the matron tell someone else to bend over the bed. Again, the whacking commenced, to silence at first and then to small gasps and moans. Frankie whispered that the matron would paddle the girl until she screamed, and would not stop until she did. Before long, the girl began to cry out loud and then to utter ragged screams each time the paddle met flesh. I was so frightened and turned and ran to my room. Mindy was close behind. We closed the door, but could still hear the poor girl screaming to the whacking of the paddle. Then, blessed silence. At least from the paddle. The two girls were crying and sobbing quietly. Listening through our closed bedroom door, we heard the matron tell them that they had better not get caught sneaking out at night again. If they did, tonight was only a sample of what they would get. Although I could not see the matron, I could imagine her sucking her bottom lip in and out as she spoke. I knew that she had enjoyed punishing those girls, and I wondered why she was allowed to work at the home. One thing was for sure, I would make sure she never got the opportunity to paddle me! In spite of the matron, Mindy and I enjoyed the blessings of the children's home. We made a pact that neither of us would do anything that would get us in trouble, and we would watch out for each other. For sure, it was a pact that we honored, and compliance to the rules of the Home brought many happy experiences. More later, love, nanasee