I worked hard to find my place in our family. I was the youngest of three girls. My oldest sister was 9 years older. My middle sister was 5 years older. As the youngest, I often felt like I wasn’t allowed to do the things that the older girls could do. I wanted to help. My mom said I had a hernia so she wouldn’t let me shovel snow or vacuum or do anything that would exert extra effort. I wanted to be more of a player even though I was younger. My sister thought it was silly and somehow it was my excuse not to get involved.
My older sister didn’t chip in with chores so I could understand why my middle sister felt overused and underappreciated. I often felt like I didn’t belong in my family. Everyone but me had brown hair. Mine was blond. Sandy always teased me about being adopted. I knew this wasn’t true because I asked my parents. They pointed out how much Sandy and I looked alike so we must be sisters.
I was a tomboy as a child. My neighborhood friends were all boys. We played cowboys often. I had my Roy Rogers holster and cap gun, vest and badge, and cowboy boots. Since I looked the most official, I was usually the one who created the scene and play idea. We would spend days on end living cowboy lives in our imaginations.
Sometimes, Sandy would include me in playtime with her friends. We had our basement set up with pretend rooms and our dolls. I felt special being included with the big girls.
I was a pleaser. One afternoon, Sandy and I were out roller skating. We had gone a bit farther than normal. Dad was calling us home for dinner. Apparently, we did not hear him calling. Finally, he yelled much louder. We both heard him and skated quickly home. Sandy got there first and slipped off her skates. She ran past Dad into the house without acknowledging him. I came up the sidewalk. I took off my skates and went up to Dad. I raised my arms and said, “Hi Daddy. I’m sorry we didn’t hear you calling”. He picked me up and walked into the house. Sandy was looking timid because she thought she was in big trouble. She hated it when I did that.
One of my favorite things to do as a child was to spend the day with Dad going on his meat route. I would ride with him and carry his order books. We would talk and laugh and tell stories. At each stop, I would go in with him. We would talk with the people who worked in each store and meet with the people in the meat department to place their orders for the week. They were always very nice to me and called me Dad’s assistant. One time I heard one of the workers behind the meat counter tell my dad that I was going to be a heartbreaker when I got a bit older. I didn’t know what that meant but he and Dad laughed so I laughed too.
Another time, Sandy and Mom and Dad had an argument. Sandy said “That’s it. I’m leaving. She picked up her things and started walking fast down MacArthur Dr. I ran after her and begged her to come back. I didn’t want Sandy to leave our family. She was my best friend and I couldn’t imagine life without her. “Please come home” I begged. It took her several blocks to give in. I just wanted everyone to be together and for there to be peace in our family.
I trusted everything my big sisters said. They could do no wrong in my eyes. When I was nine years old we found out that my sister Kathy had multiple sclerosis. She was in nursing school at that time and I remember the day that Dad took the call from the doctor with this sad news. At this time in the world, there wasn’t much known about MS. I just remember sitting at the top of the stairs listening to my dad crying when he found out the news. Mom tried to comfort him but it seemed from that day on there was a black cloud over my life. Every day when I woke up I would remember that Kathy was sick and that dark feeling would come over me.
I enjoyed spending time with my sister Sandy. By the time I was thirteen, she and Art were starting to plan their first apartment and their wedding. I would go everywhere with Sandy shopping for furnishings. I remember that Sandy had great taste and we became closer as her plans developed. As Kathy became more unable to get around, Sandy and I bonded and became closer. This close relationship grew and has continued to grow over the years. I still count Sandy as my sister and my best friend.
I helped Mom take care of Kathy through my teen years. Mom was working to help with hospital bills and Kathy was bedridden. Kathy passed the day after Mother’s Day in 1966. A piece of my heart went with her. I was seventeen years old. Our family’s lives were never the same.
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