Barely had they gotten settled into their new environment than Grace was enrolled in the parish school. They were not Catholic, but the public schools were torn with so much strife and tension at the time that Mother preferred to have the younger girls in the parochial environment. To say that Grace found the adjustment to this new routine unpalatable would be to do an injustice to the reality. The nuns repeatedly shushed the girl in class and insisted that she must be quiet. “But,” she insisted, “I wanna talk!” Her knuckles got intimately acquainted with the teacher’s ruler. One of the nuns even sewed a wide band of lace to the bottom of her new skirt, which not only upset little Grace, but it annoyed Momma, too. The “Penguins” as she would later designate them, became her arch-nemeses.
Summer days and weekends were more bearable. There were impromptu baseball games on the cinder-covered vacant lot nearby, where Grace was designated "Flash" by her brother. And where a fall or a slide into second was sure to draw blood on severely skinned knees.Young as they were, Nadine and Grace had the run of the city and quickly learned the “El” and how to get around. Vacant lots provided playgrounds, as did the utility tunnels beneath the rails. Excitement was too often on the edge of hair-raising fright. Everyone survived. For quiet times on a rainy afternoon, there were paper dolls and macaroni to be dyed and strung for necklaces.
Then before she finished the third grade, there came the day that Grace was told that Mother and Father were getting a divorce. Pammy, the baby would stay with Mother; but Grace and Nadine would be moving back to Mt. Vernon with their father. The mental turmoil that this sparked in the eight-year old girl was almost too much for her to bear. She could not figure out why Momma loved Pammy enough to keep, but she wouldn't keep her. She was convinced that something had to be wrong with her, else her mother would not want so desperately to get rid of her. Grace clung to Mother's legs with both arms, and with tears flowing profusely, begged to stay. But Mother only said, "Hush. I know what is best for you."
Adults will do what they are gonna do. Momma had other fish to fry.
© 2008 David W. Lacy
4 comments:
Wow. That's some heavy stuff for an 8 year old to deal with. Imagine the feelings of inadequacy. Yikes. I'll bet she paid for that for a very long time. Sad. Sounds like Mom wasn't very interested in family.
As Lin says, "Heavy stuff for an 8 year old . . ." Is it history or fiction or a bit of both?
Very descriptive piece! Thinking back, I have to side with the black and white - maybe would have even joined a "waddle" if a child in my class insisted on talking all day. Miss Ramsey (my 2nd teacher) just simply stood talkers in a corner until the next bell rang, whether ten minutes or two hours later. (And the child's nose had to be touching the corner where the two walls met at all times.) The rapping of knuckles with a ruler was reserved for those who did not form letters correctly when writing or had a math problem incorrect. And that was public school (1944).(I suspect Mr. L. might not have put up with that kind of insolence either.) Just saying!
Yes, Lin, some things are "paid for" over a lifetime.
Chuck, every story, fiction or fantasy, contains an element of truth, don't you think?
Thanks, Vee. The subject protests that the "I wanna talk" episode was a one-time thing. And Mr. L was somewhat controlling and jealous of the time.
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