Pages

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Early Childhood Memories Through Lucretia's Eyes


Until I turned 7-years-old, we lived in Idaho Falls, Idaho. I have several childhood memories from that time. Some memories are cute and fun, some are hurtful (to a child), and they are wrapped up by suddenly moving away (It seemed sudden to me.) There are messages I received from my family and lessons I learned that affected my beliefs about myself and the world and contributed to choices I made in the future.

Those years were my brother’s teenage years. My mother loved a good story and my brother was having exciting times. He would come home and tell her all about it. I remember him describing having been at a party when the police arrived and he and his friend running to get out of there and hiding. I remember his being in a school musical. He was dressed as a cowboy with a hat and he practiced his singing number in our backyard using my rocking horse as a prop and dramatically ended with lifting the hat off of his head and holding it high. My brother made everything seem exciting. One day, he came home with a bottle of bright red nail polish for me. I sat still while my mother carefully painted my nails. She had me place my hand flat on the table with my fingers spread apart. She put a stripe of polish down the center of a nail, then would roll my finger to one side and spread the color from the center over the side of the nail, being careful to not get paint onto my skin. I had to be patient, this process took time.
 

My brother would stay home with me some evenings while my parents went out. We would have most of the lights out and he would play his record albums and we would sing and dance. I also remember him opening my piggy bank and spreading my change out on the floor. He showed me how to count my money. We made stacks of ten dimes and placed them neatly in a row. He would straighten the stacks and they looked nice and perfect. We made stacks of quarters and I remember counting the pennies, separating them out. I learned there was a system, a way to do it.

My dad emphasized always reading the instructions before beginning anything. I remember him holding the paper and saying, “Ok, let’s read this all the way through.” I also remember sitting in the kitchen and bouncing a little ball. My dad walked in and got a piece of paper and showed me how to make slash marks for each bounce of the ball. After the fourth mark, one makes the fifth mark as a slanted line over the other four lines. Then, you add by fives to get the total. Here was another system, and it made the counting easier!

My brother played basketball and football. One season, he got his head shaved as part of initiation for the basketball players. He goofed off with one of my mother’s wigs. He was also the football quarterback. He was amazing! One time, my mother let some cheerleaders in to decorate my brother’s room. There were streamers and balloons everywhere. Streamers covered the doorway and he would need to break through them to get into the room. They left a teddy bear hanging hammock-like in streamers from the center of the ceiling. My own teddy bear had most of the fur worn off from my constant carrying and snuggling. My brother’s bear had long brown fur. When my brother left for college, he asked me to take care of that teddy bear for him.
 
 

My sister came home in the summer from college. I had a stuffed tiger named Tigger. His fur was also worn off such that he had patches of material that were completely bare. He had begun to come apart at the seams. My sister repaired him for me. I watched her measure his stomach and cut out some orange fabric. I then sat next to her as she carefully sewed the fabric on being sure the stitches were small, neat, and even. Tigger was different but perfect again!
 

One day, my brother walked past me as he headed outside. He said something I don’t remember, possibly telling me something to do. I said “no” and he told me not to say that and then gave a little slap to my face. It wasn’t a hard slap, it was more symbolic. A little later, in an unusual moment, my Mom sat in the kitchen and pulled me over to sit on her lap. We were not generally an affectionate family, so this was different. I must have looked sad or something because she began rocking me and sang “Rock-a-by-Baby.” She was being light and playful. We looked out the window to the backyard where my dad was showing my brother how to mow the lawn using the electric lawn mower (taking care to keep the electrical cord off to the side so it couldn’t be run over and cut by the mower.) Mom made the observation that Mike was learning to mow the lawn and I broke down crying, sobbing. With shock and surprise she asked, “What is wrong?!” “Mike slapped me!” I said without explanation because I was crying and barely said the words. In an instant, my mother was in the back yard and I watched her grab my brother and pointing at his face she yelled, “Don’t you EVER slap her!” She continued yelling at him and was quite threatening. My dad stood by with a silent sigh and waited for her to finish. My brother appeased her. I watched and felt terrible. I had had no intention of getting him into trouble. I loved and idolized my brother and was simply deeply wounded by his disapproval. I later learned in psychology classes that the face is connected to our identity and a slap to the face is deeply personal. Though it barely hurt, it had great meaning.

Another day, I was like a lost child. I approached my mother as she loaded the dishwasher. I tried to talk to her but she was irritated and sent me away. Next, I was around my brother who was watching TV and he grouched at me to be quiet so he could hear the show. Then, I approached my dad who was working on something and before I could say anything to him, he swore in anger at whatever he was trying to do. I left him alone. That night, we did my bedtime ritual. Mom tucked me into bed. Dad came in and hugged me, kissed me, and told me goodnight. Mom came around to do the same. Then she asked me if I had had a good day. I broke down crying and said “no, everyone was mean to me and didn’t want me around!” As Mom got the information on what had happened and I continued to cry with tears running down my cheeks, my dad returned and so did my kitten, Smokey. He jumped up and laid on my pillow right next to my face and then reached out his paw and placed it on my cheek. Mom said, “Look at that! Smokey loves you and he wants you to not cry. He wants you to feel better.” It worked.
 

So my dad had been getting those migraines I talked about in my last post. He worked for National Cash Register and often would be called out in the evenings to repair machines while businesses were closed. I remember going with him to a bank and a pretty, nice young lady let us into the bank and into a large room. Dad took the panel off of a machine and began to make repairs. I ran around the room, colored on some copy paper, and watched him work some of the time. He had his shirt sleeves rolled back and his hands and arms in the machine. Over the years, this is often how I saw my dad with tools such as screw drivers, wrenches, and pliers, loosening wing nuts, bolts, and screws and removing them by turning them with his fingers. He would set these objects aside in a certain spot for safekeeping and in order of use.

Dad was also in a supervisory position at work. Evidently management had changed or company policies had. Employees were under pressure to meet quotas. My dad was under pressure to fire employees who were not meeting the quotas. He was getting migraines from it. As a child, I didn’t know this. I guess he took a vacation and didn’t meet his own quotas and then quit his job. I remember him coming to my school one morning. I was in the second grade. They were selling cupcakes that morning, pushing around a cart from room to room. Dad bought me a cupcake and we went home to leave. We were moving to Mom’s hometown, Hailey, Idaho.

No comments:

Post a Comment