Friday, October 30, 2009

Peach Farm

The school year was coming to an end and summer was just over the horizon. That summer would prove to be very interesting and busy, more than I could have imagined. After the incident with Maggie, I enjoyed a new-found respect with the other kids and relaxed as I had not been able to before. I still had my job with the dentist, I went to the sewing room often, I did well in school and I had Mindy to share my adventures with. I should say this however, the kids from the home never did really fit in with the kids from town. Some of the older girls at the home did well socially, they were cheerleaders or excelled in sports, but for the most part, the home kids were a group of their own. We were known as "orphans" to the town kids and they did not mind reminding us often. I did not mind at all being associated with the home kids, I even had a sense of pride and commitment to being a part of the home. I realized that being in the home offered me opportunities that I would never have had before.
As soon as school was out, I was called in one day to be told that a family had asked for a child to spend two weeks with them over the summer. It was suggested that I go as I could be trusted and the home supervisors wanted to send someone that they would not have to worry about misbehaving. The family lived in far north Georgia and had a farm. I would have the opportunity to live with this family for two weeks and experience life on a peach farm. I was very excited and happily agreed to go. The family had 6 children, with a girl my age. They lived in a huge rambling farm house with only a few modern amenities, and acres and acres of peach trees. It was an area close to the smokey mountains and it was so beautiful. In spite of it being summer, the air was fresh and cool in the shade and the land so green that it almost hurt your eyes to look at it. You could smell fresh hay on the wind, hear the cows lowing as they went to and from the fields and the rush of a nearby creek. Bees droned incessantly and there were many birds. There were many chickens, and I learned the pleasure of tossing grain to watch them scramble and scratch to find their dinner. Sometimes I would sit in the chicken yard and the lovely hens would gather around my feet and quietly cluck as they milled around. The mother of the family was loving and kind. She seemed to feel sorry for me that I was in the home, and thought perhaps that I had a hard life there. I didn't disabuse her of this idea as I thought that perhaps it would give me an advantage in how she treated me. The children and I made fast friends, and really enjoyed each other's company. The oldest boy was about 16 and farm-boy rugged and handsome. I fell in love with him. He treated me like a kid. Shoot. I participated in all of the chores without being asked, especially as I loved being in the country and being on the farm. The greedy pigs would wait anxiously for their dinner, and I laughed watching them gobble and root in the scraps and grain that they were fed. The horse had such a soft mouth and deep soulful eyes. She would take fruit from my hand and her lips were almost a caress as she took each bite. I loved brushing her and talking to her. She was so gentle. The mother of the family would get up early and fix a large country breakfast. Every single day she cooked eggs, meat, grits, biscuits or toast from homemade bread and put fresh fruit on the table. There was always a pitcher of sorghum, or cane syrup and preserves on the table at all times. This was to pour over the corn bread or biscuits. The family rose early too, and ate with gusto, and without being told left the table to do the chores. I didn't know at first what the chores were, so I stayed behind and helped clean up after breakfast. It seemed as soon as the kitchen was clean, the mother would take out a large pot and start cooking something for lunch. In the south lunch is known as dinner, and dinner as I knew it was called supper. Dinner was the large meal of the day. Fried meat of some kind, fresh vegetables, bread and fresh fruit picked from the family orchard or garden graced the dinner table each day. There was always pie or cake for dessert. The leftovers were served for supper that night. Something was always simmering on the back of the stove, usually a pot of beans or a pot of homemade soup. There was no airconditioning, but up in the mountains, it was not stifling hot, really rather pleasant. Chores included tending the garden, washing clothes, cleaning the house, tending the animals, sewing and working in the orchard. It made my head spin, but everyone worked together and everything got done. The second day I was there, I got up early to the scent of a country breakfast. The other children were rustling awake and soon we were all downstairs and around the table. The mother took her place and told us that we were going to can peaches that day. I had no idea what she was talking about, and she explained that we were going to preserve the peaches in mason jars. These were fresh peaches just picked and perfect for canning. Since I had never canned anything, I didn't know what lay in store for me. After breakfast and cleaning the kitchen, we went out to the side porch and there lay before me about 10 bushels of peaches. Those peaches were lovely. Each one was round and fat, yellow in color with a pink blush and slightly furry. The mother explained that we would have to peel them or "skin them" as it was known, cut the up and put them in sterilized mason jars. Then we would pour a boiling syrup made with sugar, water and lemon juice over the peaches until the jar was full and put on a metal lid with a metal ring. The jars of peaches would then be boiled in a boiling water bath for 20 minutes, taken out and after they cooled, would be put in the cellar to be eaten in the winter. Well, that didn't sound too bad. I soon corrected my opinion a few minutes after the process of skinning the peaches commenced. To skin a peach, you plunge the whole fruit with the skin on into boiling water for 30 seconds, take it out and then plunge it into cold water. The heat from the boiling water would cause the skin to loosen. The cold water would help loosen it further and after that you could just rub the skin off with your hands, leaving the fruit whole and none of the flesh wasted. 10 bushels of peaches was a lot of skinning. Acutally, two of us would skin the peaches, two more would slice them and take out the seed, and two more would fill the mason jars with peaches and boiling syrup. Finally the mother would put the jars in a huge pot of boiling water and take them out when the time was up. It was really efficient, and the work progressed well. To my relief, we did not stay at one station the whole time but rotated. I loved the job of slicing the peaches as I would pop slice after slice of sweet peach into my mouth, while the sticky juice would dribble down my chin. Nobody minded my pilfering, there were more than enough peaches to go around. The sweet scent of the peach nectar attracted honey bees and we were forever swatting them to drive them off. During the peach processing, lunchtime arrived and we all sat down to a pot of homemade soup and bread. Then, back outside to finish the job. I was getting pretty tired of peaches when we finished. The jars were so beautiful though, looking like fat, yellow soldiers lined up on the porch in straight lines. I knew how good they would be that winter, and wished I could be there when they were opened. We had way more than 10 bushels to do, as the mother would also sell the bottled peaches, but there would also be enough for the winter for the family. When we finally all sat back on the porch, our hands sore from skinning the peaches and sticky from the juice, the oldest boy came striding up to the porch with a grin on his face. He asked if we had gotten all the peaches put up, and to our affirmative answer he leaned in close and told us that he was going swimming in the creek. He didn't have to ask if we wanted to go, we jumped up with a squeal of joy and followed him from the porch. Confused, I asked when we would get our swim suits. He laughed and told me that they didn't need swim suits, they would just jump in with their clothes on. Fine with me, and off we went.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

I received quite a surprise that early spring. One day, the matron came and asked me if I would like a part-time job. Since I was only 13 at the time, I was pretty curious as to what they would offer me. It turned out to be an assistant to the dentist that came to the campus once a week. It would pay twenty five cents an hour, but that was in addition to the fifty cents a week that I was getting. In those days, a few cents went a long way, and I was happy to have the opportunity to earn a bit more change. On my first day, I was quite nervous, but the dentist was very nice and let me say, very patient. I had a lot to do, I had to keep the instruments cleaned and ready, clean and santize the chair, light, and other equipment, take and keep the inventory and actually assist the dentist during proceedures. I was a quick learner and really enjoyed my afternoons in the clinic. We treated the children on a must-needs basis, and then on an appointment basis. So many of the children had very bad teeth, and although I did not realize it at the time, the service was such a blessing to so many. Some of the children had to have braces, and I decided that I wanted braces too. I approached the dentist about it, and he laughed and told me that I had the most beautiful, straight teeth that he had seen in some time. I still wanted braces, I wanted to stand out I guess. Cursing my straight, white teeth, I was resolved that braces would elude me. I continued to work in the clinic and truly loved it.
Spring break came, and I spent the week at the home. Mindy and I spent the time together, and we watched tv with the other girls and played a lot of cards. Some days we would just lay out in the yard and try to get a tan. I got a sunburn. We would stay up late at night and talk and drink sodas that we had sneaked from the kitchen. I was fortunate to have Mindy. I got along with the other girls, but for some reason I could not forget the way I was treated when I first came to the home. I just never did trust them. As long as I didn't have to rely on any of them for anything, I was okay. We worked together, cleaning the cottage, washing, cooking and ironing, but we never did bond. I was comfortable with the situation, especially as I had Mindy for a friend, but then something happened that up-ended my security.
A new girl came to the cottage. She was gorgeous, slender, had lovely blonde hair and a bad mouth. She immediatley bonded with Frankie's group, the bunch of girls who kept to themselves. Her name was Maggie. Maggie was trouble for sure. Within days, Maggie had wormed her way into the graces of the cottage leaders, and made sure that she fully intimidated the other girls. She would get out of work by intimidating others into doing her chores, sneak into our rooms, take clothes from girls who were scared of her and her group, hit girls who would not do her bidding and in general was just a curse. Maggie got great pleasure out of ridiculing others, setting up situations where some of the girls would appear to be at fault and pointing it out to the matron. Many of the girls felt the hard hand of the matron thanks to Maggie and I hated her. She never would include me in her campaign of terror. She left me alone. I wondered why, but didn't question it as I was just relieved that she stayed out of my way. Then the unforgivable happened. She got Mindy in trouble. She went behind Mindy after Mindy had cleaned the kitchen and made it look as though Mindy had not done a good job. I could hear the matron shouting at Mindy from the kitchen and I could hear Mindy trying to explain that she had done everything. It was when I saw Maggie hiding behind a door and snickering that I knew what she had done. Fortunatly, Mindy was only required to fix the mess and the matron did not paddle her. I was furious. I cornered Maggie and told her that she had better leave Mindy alone. I asked her why she was so hateful. She laughed in my face and poked her finger into my chest. She told me to back off, or she would make my life miserable. I was afraid to confront her any further as I didn't want to get into trouble myself. I walked away. That was a big mistake. Maggie turned her campaign on me. I noticed things missing from my room, girls talking behind my back and ignoring me. Maggie got her crowd to start picking on me, and making every effort to exclude me. Soon, the other kids at the home began to treat me differently. Maggie was spreading lies about me, saying that I was talking about the other girls and making sure that they knew it. I was so hurt, and I didn't know what to do. Soon, Maggie openly began to challenge me, pushing me, hitting me and swearing at me. Of course all this happened where the matron did not hear or see it. I became very nervous and anxious. I was always on the lookout for Maggie, and my life was very unhappy. Mindy was afraid of her too, and together we just tried to stay out of Maggie's way. Then one Saturday in the late spring, Maggie cornered me in the kitchen. She began to call me horrible names and tell me of the things she was going to do to me. She said when she was through, no one would like me. She said that she was going to get Mindy too. Suddenly, it was enough. I turned on her and shoved past her and into the hall. Some of the other girls saw me shove her and began to laugh.This must have embarrassed Maggie because she followed me out of the kitchen. I didn't know she was behind me, and when I went into my room, I was startled when she stormed in. I should explain that I was twice as big as Maggie, and at least a head taller. That did not stop her though, as she stepped up to me and began to scream in my face. I yelled at her to shut up, and the next thing I knew, Maggie slapped my face with great force. My reaction was that I punched her once, causing her to fly across the room and into the hall. It turns out that she was unconcious for a moment after slamming into the hall wall and sliding to the floor. I was out of control, screaming that I could not stand it anymore, and that she would not leave me alone. I felt someone shaking me and found that Mrs. Thompson was trying to calm me. I threw my arms around her and asked her what would happen to me for hurting Maggie like that. She said, "Well, it took you long enough. We wanted to stand back and watch you, knowing that you would find the courage to take care of that little monster. Nothing will happen, you were defending yourself". I began to settle down as they carried Maggie to the infirmary. She did not return to the cottage, she was assigned to another cottage. Thank goodness, she did not terrorize those girls, actually she became rather meek. This experience escalated my reputation in the eyes of the girls and kids all over the campus. The story was told over and over until it became almost fiction, but I reveled in the attention and popularity that it brought me. Frankie's group became nicer to me and the other girls were much more friendly. Some of the boys began to ask about the incident. I was invited into other rooms at night for hot chocolate and gossip. I was popular. What a shame that it took something so extreme to gain acceptance, but that is the way of the world I guess. After that, no one ever challenged me. I loved it. Mindy and I felt safe at last.

Monday, October 26, 2009

The new year

The holidays were over and a new year had begun. Life in the Home settled into a pattern that was both familiar and comforting. The funny thing is that I had stopped thinking of Mother's place as home. The children's home was my home now, and Mother's place was just a place to visit. Of course I loved my mother, but my life had taken a turn so that she was not the center of my world any longer. As a teen-ager, my life had quite a few centers, all of them valid at different times during the day and week. I had quit questioning why I had ended up at the home, now I questioned what lay in store for me. I began to realize that I had control of the situation. My actions and attitude dictated whether or not I had a good experience or not. I no longer looked at the matron as a monster, and that helped immensly. So, as the new year presented itself, changes came my way. The first major change was that I went on a diet. I woke one morning and took the usual shower. As I stepped out and began to dry myself, I was striken by the picture that presented itself in the mirror. I was fat. I had begun to get a feminine shape and had a waist, but my tummy was chubby and my thighs were large. I had never really looked at myself and I didn't like what I saw. Looking back, I was not a jiggling, rolly polly fat girl, but in my mind I was. I went to the campus nurse and asked her to help me lose weight. She was delighted to do so, and that very day I stepped on the scale weighing 210 pounds. This was horrifying to me and in my mind, I felt that I must have looked like the circus fat lady. As she tried to comfort me, the nurse told me that yes, I should lose some weight, but because I was such a tall and large framed person, I didn't have to lose as much as I thought. She told me that the weight would come right off, wait and see. She knew I could do it. Her confidence in me gave me a great feeling of determination. Yes sir, I would be successful! With a diet plan in hand, I went back to the cottage to tell Mrs. Thompson my good news. She hugged me and told me that she would back me all the way. Mindy was excited too, and wanted to join me in my new diet. She had a few pounds to lose, but not nearly as much as I did. Once again, Mindy and I would strive to make a goal together. As soon as I sat down to the dinner table, I knew that I could be in trouble. The menu for that evening was the usual fare, something fried, something stewed, something cooked with bacon, lots of gravy and hot bread. There was no place on my diet for things fried, stewed, cooked in bacon or covered with melting butter. Uh-oh. Seeing my confusion, Mrs. Thompson took my plate and served sensible portions of the dinner offerings. My plate looked like something that you would feed a toddler. Very small servings, very small! I knew I would still be hungry after dinner! Seeing my scantily filled dinner plate, one of the girls made a comment. She began to joke about the fact that I thought I could stay on a diet, and some of the other girls joined in. I began to feel embarrassed. Who did I think I was anyway? Just some fat girl that thought she could make a change. My rosy vison began to fade. I had to make a choice. Do something good for me or let ridicule rule my life. I decided to ignore the ignorance and let them see for themselves as I made progress. Picking up my fork, I took small bites and let my courage warm me for the battle ahead. I was hungry after dinner, but Mrs. Thompson told me to drink a large glass of water to see if that would help. It did. I went to bed that night and prayed for strength. I prayed that I could ignore the taunts, prayed that I could eat sensibly and prayed that I could exercise as much as possible. To me, this was a huge undertaking, really a giant step towards my future. I was hungry in the middle of the night, and hungry when I woke up. Looking to Mrs. Thompson for guidance, I filled my plate with the dictated portions and with determination, went to the table. Once again, some of the girls laughed and joked, but I joked back, not wanting them to know that they were hurting me. Mindy told me that she had known enough hungry nights in her lifetime, and she wasn't going to worry about losing weight at that time. Great. Now, I have to go it alone. But, I was determined to do so. Walking to school in the frigid air that morning, I tried to imagine the calories that I burned as I strode along. I began to imagine how it would feel when my thighs no longer slapped together when I walked. At school, I tried to keep my mind off of my hungry stomach. At lunch time, I went to the head lunch lady and explained about my new diet. She grinned hugely and took me back to the kitchen. Taking two hamburger patties out of a vat where they lay covered in grease, she put them on my tray and told me that anything I wanted I could have. She gave me her opinion of losing weight, plenty of protein! She declared that the more protein I ate the faster I would lose weight. I looked at the fat congealing around the meat on my tray and wondered what she was talking about. After giving me a slice of tomato, she told me to come every day and she would fix me up. Now I had to worry about not hurting her feelings. One more dietary problem to think about. My stomach growled and grumbled throughout the afternoon and on the way home. Each step home brought me closer to a kitchen filled with food, and the thought of all that culinary deliciousness began to wear on me. My diet plan said I could have a piece of fruit for a snack, and I wondered where I could find an apple the size of a basketball. As I walked into the back door and into the kitchen, I found Mrs.Thompson waiting for me. She asked me how my day had gone, and I told her about my experience with the lunch lady. Mrs. Thompson smiled and told me she had the perfect solution. I could take a lunch with me everyday! She was so sweet, she sat down and together we decided what I could make up for lunch each day. She told me that she knew that I would succeed on this new lifestyle and not to let the other girls get to me. Her boost of confidence was all I needed. A week passed, and I had some difficulty, especially when the other girls snacked or when a yummy dessert was placed on the table. I missed the candy bars and other prohibited treasures. Some of the meaner girls would wave sweets in my face, or take big bites of some kind of goodies, taunting me. On Sunday, I found it hard not to wander into the kitchen and nibble during the afternoon when the other girls had family visiting. No one came to see me, and this was especially hard as once again I felt unloved and unwanted. I thought that if I could eat a whole cake or a tub of ice cream, I would feel better. Somehow, I got through that afternoon without cheating. Exactly one week after starting my diet, I went back to the clinic and got on the scale. 202 lbs! I had lost 8 pounds in only a week! Of course this didn't seem like much to me, but the nurse was ecstatic and hugged me over and over. She warned me that the first week would be the best, and after that I should expect to lose only two to three pounds a week. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I went back to the cottage with high spirits. After that, each week found me just a bit lighter. Several weeks later I had lost down to 182 lbs and had to get new clothes. Everyone was so happy for me, and I was too, but underneath it all was the unending feeling of worthlessness because I didn't feel that anyone wanted or loved me. Once in a while, Mother was able to come and visit, but when she left it only exascerbated the feelings of abandonment. I wrote to my Father who was in prison, but I had not seen him in so long, it was as though he really did not exhist. He would write back and tell me that he loved me, but by now those were only words on paper. I didn't know why, but I was unlovable. I had accepted this long ago, and it was a fact of life for me. Of course there were many who loved me, but my thinking had become clouded and I could not see it. One positive aspect of losing the weight was that at least I felt better about myself. That helped when I would fall into feelings of unworthiness. Maybe if I lost enough weight, Mother would want me again and I could find love. How sad that I did not realize the love that Mother, Grandmother, my Father and brothers held for me. What about Mindy? Mrs. Thompson? Even the Matron? Why couldn't I realize my worth? It was a shadow that followed me daily. This shadow was my secret and I kept it deeply buried. You could never have realized the pain in my heart due to my cheerfully smiling countenance and bright personality. I hid it well.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

A New Year's Resolution

My Christmas vacation ended quickly, and once again we were on our way back to the children's home. I never asked Mother when we would be coming home for good, I think I knew that it would be a long time if ever. Once again, the taxi stopped in front of the cottage, and I got out graced by a kiss on my cheek from Mother and an admonition to be good. I thought to myself that I was always good, and she didn't have to remind me to behave. I picked up my bag of gifts and walked into the cottage to my room. The first thing I did was to put the pink stuffed pig on my pillow. I loved that pig. It meant so much to me, and seemed to be a wish come true that I had wished for when I first arrived at the home. Then, looking over at Mindy's bed, I realized that she didn't have a stuffed animal. I wish I had thought to ask Mother to get one for her while I was away for Christmas. Mindy did however, have a bean frog. It wasn't on the bed at the time, but I knew it was close by. I felt a little better. Just then, Mindy came bounding into the room and hugged me tightly. We were so glad to see each other and chattered away with all the news that had occurred during our separation. Mindy told me that gifts had been left for the girls in the cottage and there were some for me. This surprised me, and together we hurried down the hall to the living room where a tree had been decorated. Under the tree were some brightly wrapped gifts and a closer look revealed that four of them had my name on gift tags. Well now, this is looking better and better! Mindy reached under the tree and handed me my gifts. Together, we went back to our room so that I could open them in private. The first box contained some underwear, a bra and some knee socks. I remembered how much I had wanted knee socks at the beginning of the school year, but I had gotten used to anklets and gave up on ever getting knee socks. But now, I had three pair of white knee socks! They were precious to me. Another box had an assortment of personal hygiene items, deodorant, soaps, bubble bath, lotions and scents. The scent I liked the best was one called baby love, and sure enough, there was a small bottle of baby love right before my eyes. There was also a big, fluffy sponge for bathing, pink in color, and I imagined myself frothing in soapy suds as I luxuriated in a bubble bath. In the next box there was a pink sweater, very dressy and perfect for church. Last of all, and saved for last for a reason, was a small box. It fit in the palm of my hand, and even before I opened it, I knew it was some kind of jewelry. Who would give me jewelry? I knew the other gifts were the same as everyone else got, but I wondered why I would get something different. I almost held my breath as I began to unwrap the little box. Sure enough, it was a jewelry box, the kind a ring came in. I flipped open the top and gasped out loud. There, winking and gleaming, was the little ruby ring that had caught my eye the day I was shopping with Mindy. With shaking hands, I took the ring out of it's bed and gazed at it. Who would give me a ring like this? I slipped it on my ring finger and it fit! The glowing red of the ruby enchanted me as I wiggled my finger to see the light refracting. There was no card, nothing to tell me who had given it to me. I realized that my cheeks were becoming wet with my tears. Someone thought I was special enough to buy this ring for me, and I didn't know who it was. Since I had no one else to thank, I threw my arms around Mindy and squealed with joy. I told her that I wished so much to know who had given me that ring. Mindy had a funny look on her face. I asked her what she was thinking, and she sat down a moment before she began to speak. She began with a hesitant voice, "Jodie, something funny happened the day you left to go home with you Mother for Christmas. As I was working in the kitchen, the matron told me she wanted to talk to me. She wanted to know what we did the day we went into town to get the gifts out of lay-away. She asked if there were some place that we liked more than the other places. I didn't think we had done anything wrong, so I told her about the gifts, the feed store and the jewelry store. I told her how much you liked the jewelry store, and especially the ruby ring like the one that you got today. She said okay, and that was it". Trying to assimilate what Mindy was saying, I sat down with a thump. As the meaning of Mindy's words pierced my brain, I felt shocked.
Could the matron have given me this ring? Why? How could I find out? I thought about it for a long time and just decided to ask her. I knew that would be hard to do, but as I did the last time I had to talk to her, I just went and did it. I knocked on her door, and once again, she growled for me to come in. Just as last time, she was propped up in a recliner watching a soap opera with a cup of coffee at her elbow on a side table. Once again, she was barefoot. The paddle was still on the wall. I swallowed and began. "I just wanted to let you know that I am home" I said. "I didn't know there were gifts under the tree for me, and just look what someone gave me." I held out my hand to show her the ring. "It is the most beautiful and special thing I have ever been given, and I just love it, don't you? I cannot imagine who would do something so very sweet for me". The matron looked at my hand pointedly and said, "hmmm, that sure is pretty. It kind of reminds me of the lovely eyes on that frog you made for me. I sure enjoy having it in my back window. It is real special to me." She gave me a quick smile and a little wink, and I knew for sure that she had given that ring to me. I sniffed a bit, and told her that I would treasure that ring for my whole life, and I loved it so much. She got a bit huffy and kind of brushed me off, but I knew that she knew that I knew who my benefactor was. I also knew that I could never tell the other girls what the matron had done for me, she would not have liked that at all. So, I told her that I was glad to be home and after I got settled in, I was going to the kitchen to make some brownies. I told her that I would bring her some for her coffee. She grunted her affirmation, and I left the room. I lied to Mindy later and told her that the matron certainly did not give me that ring, she must have been crazy to even think such a thing. I had a lot to think about. Perhaps the matron just could not show affection, or perhaps she had not known a lot of love. I realized that the little bean frog must have meant so much to her, maybe she did not get a lot of gifts. She was mean spirited, sometimes cruel and always a terror to us, but somehow, I had been able to see into her heart and to my surprise, she had a softer side. I would try to be kinder to her and be a better friend. It was a moment in my life that gave me the realization that you just could not judge people without getting to know them. Don't get me wrong, I would never do anything to give her a reason to punish me, I knew that she would not draw the line for me or anyone else for that matter. But, while watching my back, I would make an effort to get to know her better. That was my New Years resolution.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

A Pig and Chocolate

Christmas Eve had arrived and we were going home to Mother's apartment. Grandmother was going to be with other family, so it was just the boys, me and mother. I waited anxiously for Mother to arrive and when the taxi pulled up, I squealed with joy. Mother had already picked up the boys and we were ready to go and have a family Christmas. I grinned as I got into the taxi because I felt like Santa Clause with the gifts I had for my them. As we rode along the freeway to the apartment, I chattered without stopping. I had so much to tell Mother, as I wanted her to know what I had been doing since last I saw her. Kenny kept grabbing at the bag I held, asking which present was for him. George was trying to act cool, but he too, was happy to be going home for awhile. Finally we pulled up to the apartment building. It had three levels, with 4 apartments on each level. Mother lived on the second floor, and each step upward brought back happy memories. I didn't have time to think about it then, but later I questioned why I thought I had been so unhappy here. Familiarity surrounded me as we walked into the door. The sofa was in the same place, as well as the kitchen table and Mother's bedroom. Walking into the kitchen, I took a moment to soak in the feelings of life lived here in the past. I remembered the time that the exterminator came to get rid of ants, and killed the lizard that I had been raising for a pet. He thought it was a pest, as I was raising it in a box in the kitchen window. He thought it had just come in, and we would not want to come home to a lizard in the kitchen. Looking at the sink, I remembered the time that George inflated a rubber glove and tied it to the drain, then, filled up the sink making the glove look like someone's hand was reaching out for help. It really scared me, I truly thought that somehow, someone had gotten stuck in the sink! I enjoyed the feelings that came back to me as I remembered all the meals that grandmother had made in this kitchen, and how many times she would say that she was making a picnic for dinner. I didn't know it at the time, but a "picnic" is a southern term for a pork shoulder. I always wondered why we had a pork roast instead of eating outside each time she said she had fixed a picnic for dinner. Walking back into the living room, I found the TV in the same place and the little rocking loveseat in front of it. I knew that we would watch Christmas movies from that loveseat, just as we had watched movies over Thanksgiving weekend. Best of all, there was a little Christmas tree set up in the corner. It was lovely with glass ornaments and tinsel. Mother was always so good at decorating a tree or turkey or whatever the occasion merited. Looking under the tree, I saw that it was bare of presents, but I wasn't worried, Santa always came and we would have to wait until Christmas morning to see what bounties would appear. I placed my gifts under the tree with an admonition to the boys to leave them alone. I was so happy that I had been able to give those gift, and of course, the special one to mother. The rest of the day passed slowly, as we knew that Christmas was the next day. That evening, on Christmas Eve, mother took us in a taxi to see the lights that gleamed in the winter chill on the houses nearby. This neighborhood had at one time been victorian mansions, but had been converted into apartments. Nearby the apartments, some of the large houses were still single family dwellings, and were brilliantly displayed with the spirit of the season. It was so thrilling to see the beautiful homes alight with color, and my heart raced with happiness that I could share such a sight with Mother and the boys. After arriving back at the apartment, Mother set out cups of hot chocolate and some cookies. We read the Night Before Christmas to Kenny, but he was almost asleep over his hot chocolate. Mother took him to her bed and lay down with him. How she must have missed her baby after so long. How hard it must have been for her to be away from him. I prayed that night, as I did every night, that we could be a family again. I wanted that for Mother. I fell asleep on the sofa, and woke early to find that Santa had indeed come and left gifts. Kenny was still asleep, and George was snoring on the floor on a blanket. I took advantage of the quiet to reflect on my situation, and decided that I had been ungrateful to be angry at Mother for what I thought had been hardships in my life. I vowed to be better and more understanding. Although I was a 13 year-old teenager, I was gripped with excitement when I saw a few gifts under the tree for me. I had to wait for the family to wake, but it was so hard. I thought that I would start breakfast, and maybe the smell would wake them up. Before I could start to cook, Kenny came shouting into the living room that Santa had come! I had to hold him back before he tore open the wrong gifts, and sitting him down in front of the tree, handed his gifts to him. Mother walked out of her room with a sleepy grin, and sat down on the floor next to Kenny. George and I sat down across from them, and I began to hand out the presents. Kenny got typical toys for a 6 year old boy, taking great joy in the discovery of each one. George and I got some clothes and other items, but one gift in particular amazed me. I opened the largest box last, and reached into it to feel something soft and resiliant. Peeking out at me was something pink. Gripping the mystery, I pulled out a soft, fluffy stuffed pink pig! A perfect pink, stuffed pig. I hugged that pig to my heart and looked at Mother with questions in my eyes. I asked her how she had known that I wanted a stuffed pig to put on my bed, and she told me that I had mentioned it shortly after going into the home. I did not remember that, but she did, and it meant so much to me to have something to keep close to me at night to think of Mother. I don't think she knew how special this gift was. Then, I remembered that when I first went into the home, I noticed the stuffed animal on the other bed in my new room, and vowed to have one of my own someday. More specifically, I wanted a stuffed pig as I love pigs so much. Once again, I was touched at Mother's thoughtfullness. Finally, after all the other gifts were opened, I gave the family the gifts from me. Kenny ripped the paper and tossed his frog into the air. He squealed with delight as he caught it and jumped up to hug me. George was more manly as he opened his after shave, but I could tell that he liked it. Last of all, I gave Mother her gift. She carefully unwrapped the box and took it out, looking at it with puzzlement. The cowgirl grinned at her from beneath the cellophane, and Mother turned the box over to try to decide what was in it. "Open it!" I said with excitement. I held my breath as I awaited the gushing joy that I knew would burst from Mother as soon as she saw the contents. Unwrapping the outer cellophane, Mother took her forefinger and clicked open the little brass latch that held the cedar box shut. There, before her eyes, was the assortment of chocolate bliss that I knew would thrill her. "Candy?" she questioned. "This candy is for me?" I gushed, "Yes! It is! I knew you would love it!" And then, I saw it. The look that spoke volumns. Although she tried, Mother could not hide her aversion to a box of chocolates. How could I have known that she would not love chocolate as much as I did? Schooling her features, Mother told me that she loved her gift and after the candy was gone she would keep something special in the little cedar box. I hid my disappointment at my failure to please her. It seemed that I could do nothing right. Mother hugged me and told me thank you again, and then arranged the chocolates on a little plate so that we could all share them. I didn't buy them to share them! I bought them for her! I hated those chocolates. I wanted to smash them. They represented yet another failure on my part. Damn chocolates! Kenny wasted no time in helping himself to the candy, and I thought that at least someone enjoyed it. Then, once again, I saw my precious pig. Once again, I thought how much Mother loved me because she remembered that I wanted a stuffed pig. So what if she didn't want my candy. She loved me, that pig proved it. I felt ashamed inside that I had gotten angry at her reaction to my gift. I felt that I should try to understand her more. Maybe I was the one that wanted a box of chocolates, and thought that everyone felt the same way. It was a lesson in life, that box of chocolates, teaching me that like my Mother, perhaps I should take more time in deciding what someone would really like. I walked over and picked up the pig, giving it a big hug and then walked to the plate of chocolates and popped one in my mouth. A pig and chocolate. Merry Christmas to me!

Sunday, October 18, 2009

As vacations do, the Christmas vacation was speeding on it's way, with more to do than time to do it. In the middle of all of it, I had to think about spending Christmas with Mother, Grandmother and my brothers. I thought often about how it would be to have to return to the home after having spent time with my family, and I realized that once again, it would hurt to have to come back. My Grandmother had gone to visit relatives and so we had to wait to go to Mother's. I had thought that we would spend the entire Christmas vacation time from school with her, but it was not to be. We would only be there a few days before, during and after Christmas. I didn't have a lot of time to consider it though, because I had found a new hobby. I loved to bake! I had always loved to bake the occasional cake or some cookies, but now it was a whole new world. After the first disastrous try at Christmas cookies, with practice I had learned to bake from scratch, and found that I was good at it. I loved the preciseness of measuring the ingredients, the scent of baking goods and the fun of having some of the other girls in the kitchen with me. I imagined that one day I would bake for my own children. We would be all around the table, tasting the batter and after filling the pans, licking the empty bowl. I was surprised at how much these thoughts meant to me. Was it possible that I really could be a Mama one day? That was a dream that I thought would never come to be. During the week, as I stood in the kitchen one day, once again I was baking. It was becoming a great pleasure for me. I measured the cocoa into a large bowl to make brownies. I had creamed butter and sugar, added the eggs and vanilla and the flour. Now, the cocoa powder was going in and I knew that once again, I would turn out wonderful brownies. How funny that brownies were my very best achievement. The brownies that I learned to make were chewy and fudgy and had lots of pecans. It seemed that as soon as that first scent of sweet chocolate began to permeate the cottage, the girls would come into the kitchen to see what I was baking. I learned to make extra, as they brownies would always disappear quickly. Those brownies did something else for me. Because I made them often and bounteously, I became popular. Not only did the girls in the cottage love them, but my reputation spread, and soon the girl's boyfriends began to ask for them. I suppose I was a brownie doormat, but at the time that was not important to me. What was important was that more and more of the kids in the home knew who I was and I had friends. This particular batch of brownies was meant to go home with me for Christmas. I knew that they would be so nice along with the Christmas cookies and fudge that I had continued to make. I wrapped a box with Christmas paper and carefully arranged the Christmas sweets to take home with me to Mother's. I only had another day before I was to go home to Mother's, and wanted everything to be perfect. The gift of the cedar box filled with candy was beautifully wrapped along with George's gift and a bean frog that I had made for Kenny. Grandmother's and Mrs. Thompson's aprons were also wrapped as well as the gifts I had made for the girls in the cottage. Mindy's frog would be given to her when we were alone, as I wanted to share a special moment with her. Lastly, as if to mock me, the matron's gift sat on top of the little pile. It was the velvet frog that I had made, that was the first bean frog I had learned to make. Would she like it? Did it matter? Would it make a difference that I had made a gift for her? These questions haunted me each time I tried to think of the best time to give it to her. Suddenly I knew that there was no time like the present. Going to my room, I picked up the gift and walked slowly down the hall to the matron's room. My breathing was becoming shallow, and I realized how nervous I was. Why? Why was I so afraid of her? I knew she was mean and sometimes hateful, and I had seen the way she treated some of the other girls, but she and I had began to forge a friendship. Still, I was scared to knock on her door. But I did. Tap, tap, tap. I heard her rough voice call for me to come in. I opened the door and took a moment to get my bearings. There she was, at the far end of the room reclining in a chair with her feet up. The TV was on and she was watching a soap opera. Her feet were bare, (something I had never seen!) and she had a cup of coffee on the end table next to her. Her hair was out of it's net, and longer than I had realized. The paddle hung on the wall. When I greeted her, she returned the greeting with a slight look of confusion. Her bottom lip was undulating as usual, and it seemed to me that it was wetter than usual. As I hesitated telling her why I was there, her beetle brows lowered and her face took on the stormy countenance that was so familiar. I extended the wrapped gift and walked over to her chair. "Merry Christmas" I said. "I made something for you." Now, the bushy brows shot up in surprise and the wet lip stopped moving as her mouth opened slightly. "You made me a gift?" she asked, and looked suspiciously at the package. "Yes Ma'am" I replied holding the package to her. I told her I was leaving the next day to go to Mother's and wanted to give it to her before I left. She took it from my hands and turned it over and then shook it. With a little chuckle she told me that she always checked out her presents before she opened them. It was more fun that way. I was hypnotised by the fact that her usually wet, shining bottom lip was not being sucked in and out but was turned up in a smile. As I tried to get my attention back to the gift giving and away from her mouth, she took her forefinger and ripped the paper from top to bottom. A flash of vibrant green velvet fell into her lap. "Now, what is this?" she asked, "Well, look here. It's some kind of, well, I think it is a frog!" She picked up the frog, stroking the soft velvet and testing the pliability of the beans. Looking at me she asked, "Why did you think I would like a frog?" I didn't know what to say. She said, "Opal in the sewing room has one like this, and I have always loved it. I wanted one, but didn't know how to go about getting one. And now you have made one for me. I wanted a bean frog to put in the back window of my car. This one is perfect!" She held out her arms in invitation for me to go and give her a hug. Although I was nervous, I entered her embrace and to my surprise, she whispered, "Thank you. I love it." I felt like crying, tears of joy, or gratitude or something. She loved my frog! I didn't tell her it was the first one I had made, or that it was special to me. I was just so happy that she loved it. Something truly wonderful happened in that moment. I wasn't sure what it was, but I knew it was significant. We visited for a while and then I noticed that she kept glancing back at the TV screen. I knew it was time for me to go. I told her goodbye, and again, Merry Christmas and walked out her door into the hall. Mindy was watching anxiously for me from the doorway of our room. "What happened? Why were you in the Matron's room? Are you in trouble? What did you do?" tumbled the questions from Mindy. I assured her that all was well, and told her of the gift. Mindy found it hard to believe that I would give the matron a gift, as she was as afraid of the matron as I was. I told Mindy that for some reason I felt it was important to give the matron a gift before I left. Even mean old dragons needed something for Christmas. Later that evening, Mindy and I exchanged our gifts. She had bought a ring for me, not an expensive one, but one to have until the day that I could "fulfill my fantasy of having all the jewelry I wanted". I thought that was so sweet of her. She and I were such good friends. She loved her frog too. I had made it of white denim with pink flowers and green leaves on it. She hugged it to her chest and thanked me for it. Then, she took it to her pillow and carefully arranged the legs of the frog so that it reclined next to where she would lay her head. As we visited that night, she stroked the frog over and over. I knew that she truly loved it and was so glad that I had learned to make bean frogs. The next day would find me on my way to Mother's for Christmas, and I knew that there would be some gifts for me, but that night, with Mindy to be with, was a special Christmas moment that would live on in my memory.

Friday, October 16, 2009

A Christmas Frog

Another Saturday arrived and now, it was only a few days until Christmas. School was out for the holidays and we had leisure time at last. On this day, I was going into town to get the box of candy for Mother, and was very excited. I still had to think about gifts for Grandmother and others. It was a good thing that I liked to sew, as that would serve me well as I made my plans. I had already made Mrs. Thompson a new apron. It was printed with tiny flowers and trimmed in lace. I thought that maybe Grandmother would like and apron too, and decided before going into town that I would go to the sewing room to see what I could find. The lady in the sewing room gave me free run and told me to use whatever I needed. As I walked through the sewing room, once again enjoying the smells and touching the buttons, my mind was on Kenny and what I could make for him. He was only 6, and I wanted the gift to be special. I was getting George some Hai Karate after shave at the pharmacy, and it was on lay-away with Mother's gift. As I took the time to really enjoy being around the fabrics, I noticed something on a table. It was vibrant green velvet and really got my attention. I walked over and picked it up and to my surprise, it was a velvet frog! He had huge button eyes and was filled with what felt like dried beans. The velvet was so soft and the arms and legs of the frog draped around my hand as I held it. There was a little red tongue peeking out of it's mouth and I was just enchanted by that frog. The lady in the sewing room saw me with the frog and came over. Smiling at me, she asked if I liked the frog, and had I ever seen one before. I told her that I loved that frog and no, I had never seen one. Squeezing the bean filled tummy, I asked her where she had gotten it. She told me that she had made it from a pattern. It was filled with beans, but sometimes you could use dried peas or rice. I realized that I too, could make such a frog, and Kenny would love one. I asked the lady if I could use her pattern, and she told me that she would go one better. She would trace a pattern so that I could have one of my own. I just hugged her tightly, and told her that I loved her. Patting my back, she told me to stay there while she got some paper and the pattern. Soon, we had spread out her pattern and began to trace the outling of the frog pieces onto brown paper. She helped me make a large pattern and a smaller one. I thanked her and turned to leave, but she stopped me. "Would you like to make a frog today?" she asked. Well sure I wanted to make one, but I didn't want to be a bother. I told her that I would, and that I wanted to make a frog for my little brother for Christmas. As I stood there, the sewing room lady went to her closet, rummaged around for a moment and returned with the same green velvet fabric that her frog was made of. How soft the fabric was, and so supple. I knew that Kenny would love it and I was so happy to have this opportunity. Together, we layed out the pattern on the velvet, and cut the pieces. There were only three pieces to this frog, and it was very easy to sew together. Soon, I had a frog sewn together, but he was empty. I didn't know how to ask for beans or rice, again, I didn't want to be any trouble. But, to my delight, the sewing room lady dragged out a large bucket filled with pinto beans. "These are frog beans" she explained, "I plan to make quite a few frogs for my family too. Just get whatever you need". So, taking a scoop, I filled my frog with dried pinto beans. I sewed the hole shut where I had filled the frog and then found large black buttons to sew on for eyes. The frog was done! Just like the other one, my frog was supple and felt so good to hold. The soft velvet feel of that frog invited me to shape his arms and legs in different positions. Kenny would love him. Then I got an idea. I would make other frogs for friends and family for Christmas! The fabric was there for me to use, and all I would have to do is buy the beans. I decided that I would make frogs of different fabric patterns, but would use velvet when I could. It was at times like this that I realized that little blessings could mean so much. I bagan to make a list of frog recipients. First, Mindy must have one. A pink flowered frog for her. Then, grandmother. She had to have a velvet frog, perhaps a red velvet frog. Suddenly I knew what to do for the matron. I would make her a frog! Surely she would like that- at least I hoped so. What color for her? Nazi gray would suit her, but we had formed a fragile bond and I wanted to strengthen it. I knew then what I would do. I would give her the green velvet frog, the first one I had ever made. It was special and I could make another one for Kenny. I felt that a special prayer had been answered. After all, how could I get Christmas gifts for everyone I cared about when I could not really buy them? But now, with a little work and a lot of imagination, I could fill my list with gifts for everyone. With that thought in mind, I thanked the sewing room lady, took my new green velvet frog and went back to the cottage. It was near lunch time, and I knew that Mindy would be helping in the kitchen. As I entered the kitchen, Mrs. Thompson was washing a huge colander full of dried pinto beans. I excitedly told her of my new discovery and that I was going to make frogs for Christmas. I asked her if she knew how much I would have to spend on beans in town, and she stopped what she was doing. "Jodie" she said, "Honey you can have all the beans you want right here. Just get in the cupboard and get what you need. You don't have to buy them!" For a moment, I didn't know what to say, and then I just looked at her dear face and realized her goodness. She knew those frogs were important to me, and so, they were important to her too. With a hug of thanks, I asked if I could help with anything. She asked me to set the table and I went to the dining room where Mindy was already at work. I asked Mindy if she wanted to go to town with me and she nodded happily. She then told me she had saved up a few dollars and would be shopping for her brothers and sisters. Once again, the two of us looked forward to going into town for Christmas fun. After lunch, some of the other girls and Mindy and I cleaned up the kitchen, and then mindy and I headed out the door. It was crisp and cold outside, and the wind again reminded us that winter had come for sure. We decided to run into town to try to keep warm with the excercise and soon found ourselves on Main street surrounded by all the trappings of Christmas. The feed store continued to offer cookies and hot drinks to everyone, but we decided to wait until we were on our way home to partake. Entering the Pharmacy, we were inundated with Christmas music, happy shoppers, and aisle after aisle of Christmas offerings. I told Mindy that I knew right where I was going and we separated as she went to find her gifts. There was a line of people getting their lay-away out and so I had to stand there, in line, figiting with the anticipation of finally getting the box of candy for Mother. After a small wait, it was my turn. The counter lady knew me well, and smiled happily as she turned to find my lay-away. "Here you go" she said as she handed me two packages. One was the after shave and the other was the precious gift for Mother. I paid her the balance due, and took my gifts to the lunch counter. I didn't want to be jostled as I looked at them, and was afraid that I might drop them in the crush of the crowd. Sitting down on a tall stool, I took Mother's candy out of the bag. There it was, the little cedar box with the cowgirl on the front. It seemed to me that her blonde hair was gleaming, her red lips glowing and she must have been wearing that smile because she was so happy that Mother was going to have such a nice Christmas. I could not wait to see Mother's face as she opened my gift. She would know how much I loved her, and she would know that I wanted to be a family again. I wanted her to be happy, and not be suffering because she had been separated from her children. Somehow, this box of candy represented all that to me. It was very special. With the last of my money, I purchased Christmas wrapping paper with which to wrap my other gifts. It was going to be the very best Christmas ever! I just could not wait. On the way home, Mindy and I stopped and looked in the jewelry store window. The diamonds gleamed in invitation seeming to say, "Buy me for your love". There were pearl necklaces, and I knew that some lucky wives would be wearing them to church in the near future. Pierced studs of all colors winked at me and reminded me of the sewing pins with the colored heads that I had made earrings from. And then, I saw it. A ruby solitare. A single ruby stone held in place by golden prongs, standing high and proud off the ring. It seemed to have my name on it. That ring was gorgeous. I knew that one day, I would have one just like it. It would be the first of many pieces of jewelry that I would own. But for now, I had my little green ring that meant so much, and those frogs to make. No time to worry about a ruby at the moment, my day would come. For once, Mindy wasn't impatient for me to hurry from the jewelry store window. I guess she knew how much I loved to look at the jewelry. I took her frigid hand and told her that I wanted to go to the feed store for some cookies and hot chocolate. She agreed, and together we strode along the sidewalk, filled with Christmas happiness, the kind I had never thought to feel again.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Christmas Candy

I awoke to a cold, frosty Saturday just about two weeks before Christmas of that year. I was huddled under my blankets, the window was tightly shut and the room was dim in the early morning light. I lay there for a moment, wondering at the feeling of anticipation that seemed to be such a part of me. And then I remembered, Mindy and I were going into town to do some Christmas shopping. I had saved just a bit of money, looking forward to purchasing the gift that I had planned to buy for Mother. I was worried that she was missing us and I wanted to have something special for her on Christmas morning. It was so delicious to stay snug and warm under the waffle weave cover paired with another blanket, and my pillow had just the right indentation for my head, but I had plans for the day, and knew I had to get up. Just a few more moments though, while I thought of the weeks ahead and all the special moments that awaited me. I touched the frosty glass of the window and the heat of my finger made a clear spot that framed the wintery scene outside. I traced my name against the glass, watching as the glass cleared and my name appeared. Then, a whole hand print. By now, quite a bit of the frost had disappeared, and I could see the tree outside, leafless, sleeping as if it were in hibernation. The naked branches seemed to be empty arms, waiting to embrace something, but what? Then, I remembered the birds and realized that they too, must be waiting to return to their home. I wondered when in the spring they would return. I made a resolution to be sure to always have crumbs for them daily. I heard Mindy stirring, and she said with a sleepy voice, "What are you doing staring out the window? Looking for Santa?" Grinning at her I said"Yeah, because I know someone who is getting a surprise for Christmas!" Tossing my warm, head hugging pillow at her I told her to get up and let's get going! As we dressed, I began to think of the things I had made or was in the process of making for those I cared about. For some of the girls, I had made a set of earrings in several colors from sewing pins, and I had placed them in small packages with cotton to cushion them. For Mrs. Thompson I had made a new apron. I wanted to make something for the matron, but I didn't know what. We had forged new ground in our relationship, and I didn't want to jeopardize that. It would take some thinking, but I had a little time. I was still planning the gifts for my brothers and grandmother, but I knew for a surety what I was going to get for mother. Mentally hugging that thought to myself, I went to the dining room, ate a quick breakfast and grabbed Mindy to go out the door. Saturday's were pretty much our own if we had done our chores, and Mindy and I had, so we looked forward to the day together. Stepping outside, the cold wind greeted us by ruffling our hair and stinging our cheeks. As if in tandem, we both hunched down into our coats and stuffed our hands in our pockets. I told Mindy that maybe we should wear a scarf or something, and she told me to quit being a baby. It wasn't even that cold she said, reminding me that she was raised in a shack that had no heating or hot water. Everytime I thought about the true hardship that Mindy had known, I realized more and more that things had not been so bad for me. Feeling the freedom of Saturday, we quickened our step and headed into town. Even before we crossed the railroad tracks, we could see the glimmer and shine of a small town dressed out for Christmas. The street lamps were wound with tinseled garland, red, gold and green. At the top of each lamp was a symbol of Christmas, decorations of sleighs, reindeer, Santa and other items. Across the main street was a banner strung from one side of the street to the other proclaiming "Merry Christmas" with the lettering done in glitter. As the sun reflected off the banner, the glitter danced with holiday cheer. The feed store had it's doors flung open, allowing the smells of hay, cigar smoke and hot coffee to waft onto the street. The feed store windows had been decorated with a Christmas scene made of "snow", the kind that sprayed from a can. There was a large plate of Christmas cookies near the door for anyone who passed by. Mindy and I exchanged looks that agreed that we just had to try one. As we shyly stood by the entrance, the feed store owner smiled and boomed at us to "come on in!" To our happy surprise, he also had hot chocolate for anyone who did not want coffee. Telling Mindy and me to have a seat on a hay bale, he brought two steaming cups of hot chocolate with a fat marshmallow floating on top. Placing the cookies close by, he admonished us to help ourselves and went to help a customer. Blowing on my hot chocolate, I glanced at Mindy. She had a look of rapture on her face, puffing on her hot chocolate and taking tiny sips. "Can you believe it?" she said with cookie crumbs and sparkling sugar crystals resting on her lips, "free cookies and hot chocolate! I never thought to see that!" Once again, I was reminded of the fact that I almost took for granted the customs of Christmas, something that this dear girl had never known. I squeezed her hand and told her that I thought there was lots more to come. (I would make sure of that!) We finished our hot chocolate and stood up to go. The feed store owner asked if we wanted more, and although I did and was sure that Mindy did too, we smiled and thanked him saying that we had a big day ahead. He told us to come on back when we wanted to, and he would be looking for us. Turning right as we left the feedstore, once again I was embraced with the spirit of Christmas as only a small town in the South could create. The dress store had mannequins dressed in Christmas finery. In the background was a fake fireplace hung with stockings and garland. The grocery store windows were beautiful with snow scenes and grocery ads proclaiming sale prices on Christmas goodies. A Salvation Army bell ringer stood on the corner, bobbing and ringing as people passed. He looked almost robotic as he rang the bell up and down, and as I passed him, I gave him a bright smile as I dropped a dime in the slot in the top of the collection bucket. He thanked me and went right on ringing. Mindy and I came to the pharmacy at last, and were glad to be out of the cold. The ice cream counter did not seem so welcoming in the winter atmosphere, and indeed only had a few brave souls sitting along the dining bar. The pharmacy had lots of customers, especially along the gift aisle and along the aisle where perfume and other items for ladies were shelved. I told Mindy that I had to hurry to a special section of the store and she followed me. Walking to the back of the store, I came up on the aisle that had the lovely chocolates boxed in many different ways. There was only one package that I was interested in, and at first I did not see it. I felt a moment of panic until I spied the treasure that I had been watching for weeks. There in the back, was a small wooden cedar box with a picture of a cowgirl on a horse on the front of the package. She was blonde with a white cowboy hat, chaps with fringe and a pair of white boots. She had blue eyes and a lovely smile graced with red lipstick. She was beautiful. But that is not what drew me to this box. What I wanted was to buy this package for my mother for Christmas. I imagined her face alight with joy as she unwrapped this box filled with chocolates. Chocolates of all kinds to make her happy. And when she had eaten all of the chocolates, she would use the cedar box to put her lovely jewlery in. She would think of me each time she opened it. It would be the best gift she had ever gotten, I just knew it! I picked up the package and turned it over. Two dollars and seventy five cents! I had three dollars and fifty cents with me, so that would be no problem. I carried the box up to the counter, carefully setting it down. Smiling at the clerk, I told her that it was a gift for my mother. She smiled and told me the price. As I reached into my pocket, I looked around to find Mindy to show her my treasure. I saw her standing alone in the middle of an aisle with customers walking around her as if she wasn't even there. Looking at her stricken face, I realized that maybe she didn't have any money. I never even thought to ask her, and now, looking at her some of my Christmas joy faded. I wanted to give her some money, but I didn't have very much above the cost of mother's gift. My heart started to pound, what was I to do? Mindy was such a good friend, and I couldn't stand to see her sad. I wanted to give Mother the cedar box with candy, but I wanted to help Mindy too. I decided that I would wait until next week to buy the candy. I hoped it would still be there. I turned to the clerk and told her I would have to wait until next week to buy the candy, and reached to take it back to the display. The clerk told me that it would probably be gone by next week, and asked if I had enough money for it. I stammered that I did, but something had come up and I would just have to take my chances. She told me they had a Christmas lay-away and I could put some money down to keep it until next week. I asked her how much I would have to put down and she told me fifty cents would hold it. Fifty cents! I let out a breath of relief and gave her the money. She smiled and told me it would be waiting for me, and I could have until the day before Christmas to get it out. Two more weeks! No problem there! Now, what to do for Mindy. I knew she would not take money from me and I got an idea. I walked over to where she was looking at some make-up and asked her what she was going to buy. She quietly told me that she was just looking, anyway wasn't that the fun of Christmas shopping? I distracted her for a moment and dropped a dollar on the floor at her feet. Then, I told her to look at the nail polish on the bottom counter and as she did, she stiffened. Swooping down, she grabbed the dollar off the floor. She grabbed my arm, squeezing tight and said in a loud and excited whisper, "Jodie, look! Someone lost a dollar!" Her breathing quickened as she crumpled the crisp bill in her hand. Then, her face fell. "Oh, I guess I should turn it in, someone may be looking for it" she said with quiet sadness. Great. I didn't think about that! Mindy was worried about someone else losing their Christmas money. Thinking quickly I said, "no, wait- maybe Jesus just wanted you to find it. I am sure that the money is yours. Don't worry about turning it in, just enjoy it." Her eyes brightened. "Do you think so?" she breathed. "Sure" I said, "Someone as wonderful as you deserves a surprise like this!" With true excitement etched on her face, Mindy beamed as she walked over to the penny candy display. She placed the dollar on the counter and asked the clerk to give her a dollar's worth of the penny candy in an assortment. The clerk filled a small brown paper bag with candy of all sorts, gleaming reds and greens, orange slices, the yellows of butterscotch and black twists of licorice. She also put in some chubby rounds of bubble gum and a few other varieties. Mindy waited patiently until the bag was full and then gave the clerk a huge smile. "Thank you so much" she gushed, and carefully folded down the top of the bag. "Well, I am glad to see you get something for yourself" I told her and she looked at me in confusion. "For me?" she asked, and then understanding dawning, she said, "no, not for me! For my brothers and sisters! For Christmas! It truly is a miracle that I could get them some candy. They won't know how to act!" But, I knew how to act. I felt ashamed. I felt shame that I was so worried about a box of expensive candy when little children would be so satsified with penny candy. Yes, I certainly took for granted the joys of Christmas. It was one of the first times in my life that I truly understood the gift of giving instead of receiving. I vowed to do better in the future. Mindy touched my hand and asked if I wanted a piece of candy. I told her no, thank you, but if we hurried, I bet the feed store owner would still have some cookies and hot chocolate! So, arm in arm, we walked back out into the cold air. I didn't feel the cold, my heart was just too warm. Once again, Mindy had shown me a better side of life.

Monday, October 12, 2009

A Christmas season miracle

The next morning was Sunday and once again I arose to get ready for church. The funny thing about church was that each Sunday was a repeat of the week before. We had to get our room clean, beds made, then dress in our Sunday clothes. I really, truly hated getting dressed in Sunday clothes. The thing I hated the most was wearing a girdle and stockings. Panty hose were out of the question as they were relatively new, and very expensive. Hose were so uncomfortable, and the girdle was torture. But, in the south, as Dolly Parton said in Steel Magnolias, "no good girl would ever leave the house without lycra on her thighs". So, after donning my full slip, (made of white cotton of course) I stepped into the girdle. Grabbing the top elastic firmly, I would shimmy, shake and wiggle until the girdle came to the top of my thighs. Then the fun began. For some reason, our girdles were supposed to keep us from jiggling when we walked. These girdles were about 6 sizes too small in order to achieve this goal. Thinking back, if we walked or ran or biked everywhere we went, what kind of jiggling would be going on anyway? I wish my thighs were as firm today! But, it was a social horror if a girl did not wear a girdle and stockings with a dress in those days, so, we wore a girdle and stockings to church. After pulling the girdle to the top of my thighs, I had to readjust my grip. Now, along with shimmying, shaking and wiggling, I had to hop up and down and suck in my stomach. That lycra was a miracle fabric alright, it was as strong as steel and really did the job it was intended to do. Once I had that girdle up to my waist, I would let go of my hurculean grip and with a mighty snap, it would begin to shape me into a proper young lady. Flopping on the bed for a moment of respite, I reached for the stockings to put on. Sitting on the side of the bed, I took one stocking and began to gather it into a garter shape to smooth over my leg from toe to thigh. You had to be so very careful doing this as these stockings would pull a run at any given moment and then a monmumental decision had to be made. If the run were on the foot of the stocking, you could stop it with clear nail polish. Shoes usually hid the defect. But, if the run were on your calf you had to turn the stocking so that the run would be as unnoticable as possible. Hopefully you could wear the stocking with the run to the inside of your leg, but this too depended on the width of the run. A wide run just resulted in a ruined stocking, but at least if you had several pair of stockings in the same color, you could match with a new stocking. Carefully, I would smooth the stocking up over my leg, past my ankle, past my calves, over my knees and up to the top of my thighs. So far, so good. Now for the real torture. The stockings were help up by a gripper on the inside of the leg of the girdle. With luck, you could fasten the stocking on the first try. I was never very lucky. The gripper was made of a rubber head with a metal ring that gripped the rubber head after the stocking was attached. Usually, it was attached right to the girdle, but sometimes there was a short length of elastic connecting the gripper to the girdle. One gripper went to the back of the leg and one went to the front. The gripper in the front was easy to attach as you could see what you were doing, but the one in the back was a study in frustration. If you didn't get the stocking firmly between the rubber head and the metal ring, at the most inopportune moment you would feel a snap and the back of your hose would start to sag. Of course this would pinch the back of your leg, causing a squeak of surprise to erupt. You had to be so very careful sitting down too, as too much pressure on the gripper would result in the inevitable snap and squeak. Yes, a girdle and stockings were the bane of Sunday dress.
As usual, the plate would be passed and if it did not have enough money in it, they would pass it again. This Sunday, it only went around twice, I guess the members were feeling the Christmas spirit. After that, we sat through the sermon that would be repeated until the new year about the Christmas story. My brother George was silently cutting up, trying to draw attention to me. He knew the Matron was looking for anyone who was not perfectly behaved. My little brother Kenny fell asleep on my lap and my legs went to sleep. As hard as I tried, it was near impossible to be perfect in church when George was trying to give me a wet willy (he would wet his forefinger and stuff it in my ear) or pick his nose and try to rub it on my skirt, or dribble saliva up and down out of his mouth almost hitting my shoes and then sucking it back up again. I wanted to strangle him, punch him in the mouth, poke his eyes, anything to make him behave. But he was just having fun- and anyway, Christmas was near. No matter how bad you think things are, Christmas time always makes it better. At this time of year, we would sing Christmas carols each week. What a relief that was after singing a list of just a few hymns every other week of the year. I don't know if the pianist didn't know any other songs, or if she just liked that limited list.
On this particular Sunday, I noticed that George was not as annoying as usual. He just didn't have that aggravating spark, and didn't really try to get under my skin. He actually was sitting rather quietly, and as the service continued, I became a bit concerned. I decided that I would ask the matron if I could spend some time with George after Sunday dinner. This was a big deal, as I never wanted to speak to that battle ax about anything. After the service, we rode home on the bus and I planned the speech that I would present to the nazi. When we got back to the cottage, I went straight to my room, changed my clothes and made it first into the kitchen to help with dinner. Of course this got the matron's attention and she began to watch my every move. I was especially careful with the biscuits as I knew that those were her favorite. I made sure that they were golden brown and dripping with butter. I even covered the plate piled high with the fragrant biscuits with a clean dishtowel in order to keep them warm. Placing the plate of biscuits in front of the matrons chair, I turned to go back into the kitchen. I bumped straight into her. Time froze. Once again I was hypnotized by the undulating motion of her bottom lip as she sucked it in and out of her mouth. The steel gray hair was coiffed and sprayed; I could smell the hairspray. The pearl buttons of her Sunday dress seemed to mock me as they gleamed, as if they were telling me that it was all over for me. Yes, there she stood, hands on hips, feet planted firmly, back ramrod straight and bosum erect. The bottom lip moved as the matron said, "Okay Missy, what's going on? How come you are being so helpful? What have you done?" My mouth dried up and I could not speak. I felt a slight tremor pass through my stomach and my heart began to race. I probably looked like a deer in the headlights. But I remembered that I wanted to spend time with George, and there was nothing wrong with that. I gathered my courage and said,"I was just trying to make sure your biscuits were nice and warm for you. That's all. Oh, but by the way, while we are talking, I was wondering if I could spend a little time with my brother this afternoon. I don't think he is feeling well, and I am kind of worried about him". I swear, her face softened a minute bit. The lip stopped it's movement. She reached out and put her hand on top of mine. "Sure, go on ahead."she said, "See your brother. Good of you to be concerned about him. Oh, and thanks for the biscuits, you have really got good at making biscuits." For a moment, I thought I was in the twilight zone. Did I imagine it, or was she being nice to me? What was going to happen next? I took advantage of the moment and blurted out," We made cookies yesterday, and I saved you some!" (actually, I had saved me some, but now it was too late!) She turned again and looked at me saying, "You did? I love Christmas cookies." Then with a thoughtful look on her face, she said, "I heard you made fudge too". For the first time since I had come to the home 5 months before, I relaxed in the presence of the matron. I shyly replied, " Uh, yes, I did and you are welcome to some. I'll get it for you after dinner". Well, shoot. Those cookies had really done their job! Bringing cheer and joy and now even thawing out the matron! I just prayed that no one had snitched my stash- those cookies and fudge were going to the matron no matter what! This was the beginning of an uneasy truce between the matron and me, a true Christmas season miracle if ever there was one! More about George tomorrow. love, nanasee

Sunday, October 11, 2009

I'm back!

Oh thank goodness, I can type again!

After I came back to the home from Thanksgiving with Mother and Grandmother, I was faced with a new problem of sorts. Christmas was close by, and I had to figure out how to celebrate Christmas in my new environment. So many of the kids were sad to be at the home at Christmas time, but I thought that maybe I could spread some cheer. I had begun to really relax and enjoy the home experience, especially if I stayed away from the matron. I was still really scared of her, and this because of several more incidents of her punishing some of the other girls. I loved Mrs. Thompson so much, and wanted her to be proud of me, so I did all I could to be a "good" girl and not cause her any worry. We sort of had a secret message between us, she would go out of her way for me and I would run errands and do other things to let her know that I appreciated her care. Now, this brings my back to Christmas. I thought I could bake Christmas cookies to surprise the girls. I still had 3 weeks until it was actually Christmas day, but I thought it would be fun to have the cookies throughout the season. I approached Mrs. Thompson for permission to begin to bake. She was excited about my idea and offered to help. She said we could make Christmas candies as well, fudge, divinity, and hard candies. We could also do brownies and decorate the cookies too. I was so tickled! Some of the other girls wanted to take part, and so the first Saturday of December we gathered in the kitchen to start our Christmas cookie project.
Just for atmosphere, we all put on aprons that I had made in the sewing shop. Mrs. Thompson had set out huge canisters of flour and sugar, a large container of shortening and lined up bottles of vanilla, lemon and other flavor extracts and also had out baking powder and salt. Large cookie sheets gleaming with the cleaning they had received lay waiting on the counter for their Christmas treats. Next to the ingredients was a large bag of shelled pecans, chocolate chips, raisins and marshmallow creme. There were several bottles of colored sugar to sprinkle on the cookies and other bottles of cookie toppings like chocolate sprinkles, confetti sprinkles and tiny silver balls. There were bottles of food coloring too and a huge bag of powdered sugar. Metal cookie cutters were lined up next to several big mixing bowls with tan wooden spoons inside each one. I felt like Mrs. Clause must have felt as I stood in the middle of all this Christmas cookie glory. As usual, Mrs. Thompson made everything wonderful. We set to work with spirits high. It didn't take long until our spirits were not so high. Cookie baking turned out to be a lot of work! We had to mix everything by hand, and it wasn't long before our arms and hands began to become tired. Measuring, mixing and cracking eggs, mixing again, adding more flour, mixing again, we silently dared anyone to complain. This was Christmas cookie day, and we were going to enjoy it or else! Then, the cookie dough was mixed and waiting in the several bowls that we used. Now, the fun part. And what I mean is, now we could nibble at the cookie dough! But I didn't take into account that perhaps Mrs. Thompson would not like us nibbling at the cookie dough. She didn't. When I went back for perhaps the 7th nibble, I received a light rap to my hand with a wooden spoon. In surprise, I looked at Mrs. Thompson. "Jodie, this is your project" she said, "now stop gobbling the cookie dough and start rolling it out. We are here to make cookies, and cookies we are going to make!" She took the threat out of the incident by the twinkle in her eye and with a little wink in my direction, she handed me a rolling pin. She took a rolling pin of her own and told us all to watch as she sprinkled a mixture of flour and sugar on the work surface and placed a ball of dough in the middle of it. With deft hands, Mrs. Thompson rolled up and down, right and left and soon had a perfect circle of cookie dough, just the right thickness for cookie cutting. I tried to emulate her actions, but the dough stuck to the rolling pin, stuck to the table and refused to go into a circular shape. The other girls were not faring so well either and soon flour was dusting the air and odd shapes were appearing on the table. In frustration, I asked Mrs. Thompson what I was doing wrong. With her usual loving attitude, she explained that she had had about 40 more years of experience than I did and it would take time to learn to roll out cookies. Meanwhile, we could still cut the dough even if it wasn't perfectly round and flat. Well, that was a relief! At the rate we were going, we would have the cookies done in time for Christmas next year! After doing our best to roll out the dough, we each picked out the cutters we wanted to use and went to work. Mrs. Thompsons cut-out shapes lifed off the table perfectly and slid onto the cookie pan. Mine broke apart and stuck to the spatula. Her dough was easily handled, mine was getting stiff with the flour that I used to roll it out. I began to feel sorry for myself. Stupid cookies. Stupid, stupid cookies! Some of the other girls were having more success than I was, and were really having fun. I wanted to have fun too. I decided to drop my pride and ask for help. Time was passing and seeing the desperation in my face, Mrs. Thompson called me over. She told me that not everyone could be a cookie baker, but maybe I could be a fudge maker. Yeah! I could be a fudge maker! How hard could fudge be? As golden brown cookies lay cooling all around me, I began to make fudge with Mrs. Thompson. Just to let you know, Fudge can be plenty hard to make. After chopping pecans I was told to measure milk, sugar and cocoa powder into a large sauce pan. Bring the mixture to a boil and do not stop stirring, no matter what. I did as I was told, and soon my hand was getting hot. The mixture began to bubble and little bubbles burst on the top and splattered upward. It only took one little splatter to realize that you had to stir and keep your hand away from the splattering, boiling mixture. The mixture had to boil for at least 5 minutes, and that was a very long 5 minutes for me! Finally I could turn off the fire and keep stirring as the vanilla and some butter were added. Keep stirring until the fudge thickened up. More stirring, over and over and I couldn't even taste it because it was so hot. I had to stir it until it began to cool, and that seemed to take forever. At last, I could add the pecans and pour the fudge into a buttered pan. Boy, all that just for fudge? But, it turned out great and I realized that maybe I could be a fudge maker! By the afternoon, the kitchen was filled with cookies that had been frosted, sprinkled, and colored. Stacks of cookies waiting to go inside canisters really brought the Christmas season to life. The fudge was cut into squares and placed into another canister and we were all so proud of ourselves. We had Christmas cheer for all the girls and it wasn't so bad to make. Clean up was another matter. Goodness, we washed bowls, spoons, pans, cutters and measuring items. We wiped down counters, tables and cutting boards. We put the ingredients away and swept and mopped the floor. Dish towels and aprons had to be washed as well. Just as we thought we were out of the woods, the matron came into the kitchen and told us that since we were already in the kitchen we could go ahead and make dinner for the cottage. Grinning, she walked over, picked up a cookie, sniffed it and shoved it into her sloppy, wet, undulating mouth. (Mindy said that she wished she had poisoned that cookie.) Shoot. We were already tired of being in the kitchen, but the old dragon had spoken, and so we started cooking again. It was different for us that night, as we had formed a comaraderie while cookie baking. We were cookie friends. We pulled together and turned out a supper while laughing and having fun. Christmas season brings many good tidings and gifts, but some gifts are more special. Cookie baking is just such a special gift.