Tag Archives: Sisters

THE EAVESDROPPER

We all come into this world with talents and abilities. Some people are artists, some people are mathematicians or engineers, others are gifted linguists. The list goes on and on.

My talent is that I am a natural eavesdropper. Yes, that’s what I said I’m an eavesdropper. I initially became aware of my ability at a young age. I grew up in a large family with ten siblings. I was the youngest child.

I have siblings that are fifteen and twenty years older than I am. They were dating before I began elementary school. I was absolutely fascinated with the romantic activities of my elder brother and sisters. Their secret conversations on the phone as they hid in the hall closet, the notes they had tucked into their school books and jewelry boxes and purses or underwear drawer.

Try as they might to keep their secrets they couldn’t keep anything from me. Of course one of the reasons I knew all about their secrets was that they were barely aware of my existence. They ignored my presence in their lives as if I was merely a fly buzzing annoyingly in their faces. That they had only to shoo away with a wave of their manicured hands.

I became aware of their activities by chance. One late afternoon before dinner I happened to be reading one of my Nancy Drew Girl Detective Mysteries as I was lying on the rag rug on my bedroom floor. And I heard voices whispering. I looked all around but I couldn’t determine exactly where the voices were coming from. And then suddenly I realized I was hearing my oldest sister talking to what sounded like a boy. And the voices were coming from the radiator vent on the wall near where I was lying on my little rug.

I placed my ear flat against the heating grate on the wall. It was a little hot but I persisted. I breathe as quietly as I could. It was my next to oldest sister, Ellen. The boy was asking her if she was going to go to the Friday night dance at school that week. And she said, ” of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I so look forward to dancing with you holding me in your big, muscular arms.”

I almost gave myself away at that point because she was making me sick talking about all that mushy stuff. I should have stopped listening at that point. But I didn’t. I wanted to know more. My older sisters and brother never told me anything because they said I was nothing but a big baby. And I always ratted them out to my parents.

Then the boy said he was looking forward to seeing her at the dance in her new dress. Since he always saw her in the ugly school uniform. My sisters who are in Catholic High school had to wear plaid skirts down past their knees and a vest and blouse that had a Peter Pan collar. And big, old shoes that looked like the ones people wear when they go bowling. And the best thing of all was the beanie that girls had to wear on the top of their heads. The beanie was held on with five or six bobby pins. Little did I know that one day in the not too distant future I too would be wearing the same thing. I heard some heavy breathing after that. And then I heard my mother yelling up to me, “it’s time to take your bath.”

I kept telling her I didn’t need her to give me a bath that I was a big girl now. But she insisted I didn’t do a good job washing myself. Because one time I forgot to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. I yelled down at the top of my voice, “later mom, I’m busy.”

Then she said, “you better get down here right now before I have to come and get you.”

I knew then I better get down there or I was going to be in big trouble. So, I got my pajamas out of the drawer and went downstairs to get a bath. All I could think about was now I won’t find out what my sister and her boyfriend are going to do on Friday night.

And this was the beginning of my career as an eavesdropper. It just so happens that I am a curious albeit nosy person. Soon after I overheard my sister and her boyfriend’s conversation I decided that whenever I had the opportunity to listen through the heating grate I would.

And in this way, I found out about all the things that were going on with my parents and my sisters and brothers. I also found my middle sister’s diary. Which is a book where you write down all your hopes and dreams and all your feelings. But after I read the diary the first time I decided it wasn’t a good idea. I realized I didn’t want to know how my sister felt about everything. Especially when I read the part where she complained that she thought I was an obnoxious brat. That made me feel really bad since she was my favorite sister up until then. It changed the way I felt about her.

One Saturday afternoon I was up in my room trying on one of my sister’s clothes. I was being really careful because if she found out I was messing with her clothes she would probably kill me. So, I was being really quiet and I don’t think anyone knew I was home.

And all of a sudden I heard my father yelling at someone. I was afraid that he was yelling at my mother. I couldn’t stand it when my parents had fights. One of my friend’s parents used to fight all the time and then after a while, the father moved out and they got divorced. And my girlfriend hardly ever saw her dad after that because he married another lady and they had a kid together. I never even heard of people getting divorced before.

So when I heard my father yelling I was afraid he was mad at my mom and they would get a divorce. Then I heard the other person and it turned out it wasn’t my mother it was my brother. He apparently had a car accident and his car got wrecked. But luckily he didn’t get hurt. But all the same my father was as mad as I ever heard him be.

Just then my mother came home and when she came it she said she overheard them yelling from two houses away. And that they needed to stop. Then she said, “what are you yelling about anyway?”

My brother said, “I was in a car accident this morning on the way to work and the car got wrecked.”

“My mother said, “are you alright?”

“Yes, Mom I’m alright. But the car isn’t.”

My mother said, “why don’t we all sit down and decide what is the best thing we can do right now.” My father said, “well for one thing he can start taking the bus back and forth to work until he saves enough money to buy another car.”

My brother let out a sound like a whimper. I thought he was going to start crying. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. I had never seen my brother cry. I guess he really loved that car. He said, “Yeah, OK, I’ll start working some overtime and save money to get another car.”

My mother said, “alright you two need to clear out of the kitchen because I have work to do in here.

I realized in that moment that everything important that happened in my house happened in the kitchen. It was really the center of our family’s life. Which was great for me because there was a heating grate on the floor next to the kitchen table. Almost all the family conversations happened at the kitchen table.

One day I came home from school and my parents weren’t there. Which was really unusual. Almost every day when I got home from school my mother would be standing at the ironing board ironing all afternoon. Until it was time for her to start cooking dinner.

I couldn’t imagine where they could be. My mother was always home when I came home from school. And she would be waiting for me and my sisters with glasses of cold milk and homemade cookies. But she was nowhere in sight.

After about an hour I started to get worried. It was so weird that no one was home and no one called to let me know where they were and what they were up to. And even though my sisters didn’t like me and were mean to me I still loved them and wanted them to be OK.

And about a half-hour later my oldest sister called and told me that they were at the hospital with my mother. but they would be home by dinner time and they would be bringing home pizza for dinner. I all but shouted, “pizza, yeah pizza.” And then I remembered she said something about my mother being in the hospital.

“What do you mean mommy is in the hospital?” “What do you think I mean? She’s at the hospital having the baby.”

I said, “baby what baby?”

“Your new baby brother, that’s who. Why are you so dumb? Couldn’t you see she was getting ready to have a baby? She had that big stomach?”

“Big stomach, I just thought she ate too much and got fat. Why would she want to have another baby? She has me.”

“How would I know there’s hardly any room in the house as it is. And we only have one bathroom. Anyway, she won’t be home for a few days. But the rest of us will be home in about a half-hour with the pizza. Don’t get into any trouble. Why don’t you set the table while you’re waiting? Make yourself useful for once. And how come you didn’t know Mom was having a baby, Miss know it all? Always being in everyone ease’s business all the time. We all know that you listen to everything that is going on through the heating vent.”

“You do? How did you know that?”

“Well, Little Sis, did you know that we can hear you breathing and snickering through the vent in the kitchen just as easily as you can hear us up in your bedroom? You know we grew up here and we all used to do the same thing. So ha, ha, ha on you.”

I hung up the phone and got the dishes and silverware out and the napkins and set the table. I also climbed up on the counter and got down glasses, and the picture of ice tea out of the fridge. The whole time I kept thinking my mom had a baby and nobody told me. Why, oh why did we need to have another baby? I’m the baby of the family. I felt really sad and lonely.

When my dad and my sisters and brother came home they were all excited about the baby. When they came in the front door and into the kitchen I was standing at the counter waiting for them. My older sister said,”well look at you. maybe you’re not such a baby after all. Are you ready for some pizza?”

“Yes, I love pizza. When is Mom coming home? What does the baby look like?”

“Mom will be home in a couple of days. Having a baby is a lot of hard work. She’s tired. And when she gets home she will still be tired. We all have to help even you, nosy.”

I quietly nodded my head. And then my big sister said, “let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Two days later my mom came home. Her stomach still looked big, and I was afraid she going to have another baby. She came over to me and gave me a big hug and said, “everyone told me that you were a big help when I was in the hospital. Would you like to meet your little sister now? You’re her big sister now and you have to protect her and help take care of her.”

“I will Mom, can I see her?” So I uncovered the baby’s face and it was all red and she started screaming at the top of her lungs. I said, “What’s wrong with her? Make her stop, make her stop.”

“She’s just hungry why don’t you ask your sister to show you how you get a bottle ready for the baby?”

“OK. So I ask my big sister, Ellen,” please show me how to get the baby her bottle. Hey nobody told me what the baby’s name was?”

My sister said, “Mom wants to call the baby Isabella. It means beautiful. She named you Alaine, which means precious.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“No, you don’t know everything but from now on we’ll try to keep you in the know and not surprise you with a new sister or brother again. So you promise not to snoop and listen in on private conversations anymore, OK?”

I said OK, but I crossed my fingers so it wasn’t really a lie. And I kept on snooping to this day because I didn’t want to be left out of the loop again. So I lived to snoop another day. And this time I made sure that nobody knew I was still snooping. I knew it would be a talent that I could use in the future. Who knows I could become the next Nancy Drew Detective.

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THE EAVESDROPPER

We all come into this world with talents and abilities. Some people are artists, some people are mathematicians or engineers, others are gifted linguists. The list goes on and on.

My talent is that I am a natural eavesdropper. Yes, that’s what I said I’m an eavesdropper. I initially became aware of my ability at a young age. I grew up in a large family with ten siblings. I was the youngest child.

I have siblings that are fifteen and twenty years older than I am. They were dating before I began elementary school. I was absolutely fascinated with the romantic activities of my elder brother and sisters. Their secret conversations on the phone as they hid in the hall closet, the notes they had tucked into their school books and jewelry boxes and purses or underwear drawer.

Try as they might to keep their secrets they couldn’t keep anything from me. Of course one of the reasons I knew all about their secrets was that they were barely aware of my existence. They ignored my presence in their lives as if I was merely a fly buzzing annoyingly in their faces. That they had only to shoo away with a wave of their manicured hands.

I became aware of their activities by chance. One late afternoon before dinner I happened to be reading one of my Nancy Drew Girl Detective Mysteries as I was lying on the rag rug on my bedroom floor. And I heard voices whispering. I looked all around but I couldn’t determine exactly where the voices were coming from. And then suddenly I realized I was hearing my oldest sister talking to what sounded like a boy. And the voices were coming from the radiator vent on the wall near where I was lying on my little rug.

I placed my ear flat against the heating grate on the wall. It was a little hot but I persisted. I breathe as quietly as I could. It was my next to oldest sister, Ellen. The boy was asking her if she was going to go to the Friday night dance at school that week. And she said, ” of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I so look forward to dancing with you holding me in your big, muscular arms.”

I almost gave myself away at that point because she was making me sick talking about all that mushy stuff. I should have stopped listening at that point. But I didn’t. I wanted to know more. My older sisters and brother never told me anything because they said I was nothing but a big baby. And I always ratted them out to my parents.

Then the boy said he was looking forward to seeing her at the dance in her new dress. Since he always saw her in the ugly school uniform. My sisters who are in Catholic High school had to wear plaid skirts down past their knees and a vest and blouse that had a Peter Pan collar. And big, old shoes that looked like the ones people wear when they go bowling. And the best thing of all was the beanie that girls had to wear on the top of their heads. The beanie was held on with five or six bobby pins. Little did I know that one day in the not too distant future I too would be wearing the same thing. I heard some heavy breathing after that. And then I heard my mother yelling up to me, “it’s time to take your bath.”

I kept telling her I didn’t need her to give me a bath that I was a big girl now. But she insisted I didn‘t do a good job washing myself. Because one time I forgot to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. I yelled down at the top of my voice, “later mom, I’m busy.”

Then she said, “you better get down here right now before I have to come and get you.”

I knew then I better get down there or I was going to be in big trouble. So, I got my pajamas out of the drawer and went downstairs to get a bath. All I could think about was now I won’t find out what my sister and her boyfriend are going to do on Friday night.

And this was the beginning of my career as an eavesdropper. It just so happens that I am a curious albeit nosy person. Soon after I overheard my sister and her boyfriend’s conversation I decided that whenever I had the opportunity to listen through the heating grate I would.

And in this way, I found out about all the things that were going on with my parents and my sisters and brothers. I also found my middle sister’s diary. Which is a book where you write down all your hopes and dreams and all your feelings. But after I read the diary the first time I decided it wasn’t a good idea. I realized I didn’t want to know how my sister felt about everything. Especially when I read the part where she complained that she thought I was an obnoxious brat. That made me feel really bad since she was my favorite sister up until then. It changed the way I felt about her.

One Saturday afternoon I was up in my room trying on one of my sister’s clothes. I was being really careful because if she found out I was messing with her clothes she would probably kill me. So, I was being really quiet and I don’t think anyone knew I was home.

And all of a sudden I heard my father yelling at someone. I was afraid that he was yelling at my mother. I couldn’t stand it when my parents had fights. One of my friend’s parents used to fight all the time and then after a while, the father moved out and they got divorced. And my girlfriend hardly ever saw her dad after that because he married another lady and they had a kid together. I never even heard of people getting divorced before.

So when I heard my father yelling I was afraid he was mad at my mom and they would get a divorce. Then I heard the other person and it turned out it wasn’t my mother it was my brother. He apparently had a car accident and his car got wrecked. But luckily he didn’t get hurt. But all the same my father was as mad as I ever heard him be.

Just then my mother came home and when she came it she said she overheard them yelling from two houses away. And that they needed to stop. Then she said, “what are you yelling about anyway?”

My brother said, “I was in a car accident this morning on the way to work and the car got wrecked.”

“My mother said, “are you alright?”

“Yes, Mom I’m alright. But the car isn’t.”

My mother said, “why don’t we all sit down and decide what is the best thing we can do right now.” My father said, “well for one thing he can start taking the bus back and forth to work until he saves enough money to buy another car.”

My brother let out a sound like a whimper. I thought he was going to start crying. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. I had never seen my brother cry. I guess he really loved that car. He said, “Yeah, OK, I’ll start working some overtime and save money to get another car.”

My mother said, “alright you two need to clear out of the kitchen because I have work to do in here.

I realized in that moment that everything important that happened in my house happened in the kitchen. It was really the center of our family’s life. Which was great for me because there was a heating grate on the floor next to the kitchen table. Almost all the family conversations happened at the kitchen table.

One day I came home from school and my parents weren’t there. Which was really unusual. Almost every day when I got home from school my mother would be standing at the ironing board ironing all afternoon. Until it was time for her to start cooking dinner.

I couldn’t imagine where they could be. My mother was always home when I came home from school. And she would be waiting for me and my sisters with glasses of cold milk and homemade cookies. But she was nowhere in sight.

After about an hour I started to get worried. It was so weird that no one was home and no one called to let me know where they were and what they were up to. And even though my sisters didn’t like me and were mean to me I still loved them and wanted them to be OK.

And about a half-hour later my oldest sister called and told me that they were at the hospital with my mother. but they would be home by dinner time and they would be bringing home pizza for dinner. I all but shouted, “pizza, yeah pizza.” And then I remembered she said something about my mother being in the hospital. “What do you mean mommy is in the hospital?”

“What do you think I mean? She’s at the hospital having the baby.”

I said, “baby what baby?”

“Your new baby brother, that’s who. Why are you so dumb? Couldn’t you see she was getting ready to have a baby? She had that big stomach?”

“Big stomach, I just thought she ate too much and got fat. Why would she want to have another baby? She has me.”

“How would I know there’s hardly any room in the house as it is. And we only have one bathroom. Anyway, she won’t be home for a few days. But the rest of us will be home in about a half-hour with the pizza. Don’t get into any trouble. Why don’t you set the table while you’re waiting? Make yourself useful for once. And how come you didn’t know Mom was having a baby, Miss know it all? Always being in everyone ease’s business all the time. We all know that you listen to everything that is going on through the heating vent.”

“You do? How did you know that?”

“Well, Little Sis, did you know that we can hear you breathing and snickering through the vent in the kitchen just as easily as you can hear us up in your bedroom? You know we grew up here and we all used to do the same thing. So ha, ha, ha on you.”

I hung up the phone and got the dishes and silverware out and the napkins and set the table. I also climbed up on the counter and got down glasses, and the picture of ice tea out of the fridge. The whole time I kept thinking my mom had a baby and nobody told me. Why, oh why did we need to have another baby? I’m the baby of the family. I felt really sad and lonely.

When my dad and my sisters and brother came home they were all excited about the baby. When they came in the front door and into the kitchen I was standing at the counter waiting for them. My older sister said,”well look at you. maybe you’re not such a baby after all. Are you ready for some pizza?”

“Yes, I love pizza. When is Mom coming home? What does the baby look like?”

“Mom will be home in a couple of days. Having a baby is a lot of hard work. She’s tired. And when she gets home she will still be tired. We all have to help even you, nosy.”

I quietly nodded my head. And then my big sister said, “let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Two days later my mom came home. Her stomach still looked big, and I was afraid she going to have another baby. She came over to me and gave me a big hug and said, “everyone told me that you were a big help when I was in the hospital. Would you like to meet your little sister now? You’re her big sister now and you have to protect her and help take care of her.”

“I will Mom, can I see her?” So I uncovered the baby’s face and it was all red and she started screaming at the top of her lungs. I said, “What’s wrong with her? Make her stop, make her stop.”

“She’s just hungry why don’t you ask your sister to show you how you get a bottle ready for the baby?”

“OK. So I ask my big sister, Ellen,” please show me how to get the baby her bottle. Hey nobody told me what the baby’s name was?”

My sister said, “Mom wants to call the baby Isabella. It means beautiful. She named you Alaine, which means precious.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“No, you don’t know everything but from now on we’ll try to keep you in the know and not surprise you with a new sister or brother again. So you promise not to snoop and listen in on private conversations anymore, OK?”

I said OK, but I crossed my fingers so it wasn’t really a lie. And I kept on snooping to this day because I didn’t want to be left out of the loop again. So I lived to snoop another day. And this time I made sure that nobody knew I was still snooping. I knew it would be a talent that I could use in the future. Who knows I could become the next Nancy Drew Detective.

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SUSIE-KAREN

My sister and I were born on May 24th, 1951. We were the fifth and sixth child born to Marie and Hugh Carberry. My mother didn’t know that she was going to have twins, and so when I was born seven minutes after Karen, I was a surprise. I have always hoped I was a pleasant surprise.

Carberry Home Maple Shade, NJ 1950

We lived in a small stucco house in Maple Shade in what was then considered to be rural New Jersey. My family had moved from Philadelphia, Pa. to NJ.  They didn’t own a car at that time and arrived in Maple Shade by taxi.

Carberry Family

Mother, Harry, Jeanie, Eileen, Betty,, Karen and Susie 1951

My brother Harry was nineteen years old at the time, my sister Jeanie was fifteen, Eileen was eight, and Betty was seven. This was back in the day when birth control was not all that reliable. My mother gave birth to twin boys a year after Karen and I were born. They did not survive. They were called Stephen and Gerard. My fraternal grandmother Elizabeth Carberry moved with my parents.

One of the unfortunate experiences of being a fraternal twin is that people seem to be unable to remember who is who. When we were young, people often called us Susie/Karen or, more often, Karen/Susie. Whenever anyone saw me, people would ask, “Where is your better half?”

My twin and I couldn’t have been more different in our appearance. She had dark brown curly hair, and I had straight blond hair. She grew faster and looked older than I did. And I well I was quiet and shy and imaginative.  She was outgoing. Throughout our childhoods, My sister and I were often compared although Fraternal twins are no more closely related or similar than and other siblings.

It is only recently that I found out just how uncomfortable that Karen had me for a twin as a child. Although of course, there were many indications throughout our childhood and our lives.

I started this blog a year ago and began writing my memoirs, my sister, Karen took exception to my interpretation of my childhood experiences. And she felt the need to explain to my readers her feelings about me. And she posted this comment on my blog. I have to say I was hurt. Although it wasn’t all negative. Here it is:

“This is Susan’s twin sister.
We couldn’t have been more different in our likes and dislikes, and our thought processes Susie was a person that kept almost everything to herself. So, there are many things I never really knew about her until we were older. And she was able to transform herself and to a normal and open person. We really didn’t become friends until we were adults and married. We are close now and have been since we were young adults not that we haven’t had our differences of opinions and outlooks that we came to appreciate and respect one another for our differences and more interesting she is always surprising me with the different pursuits that she continues to develop throughout her life she never sits down she’s always going. It has made her a wonderful person.

At the end of September, She called me. She was angry.  My sister let me know in no uncertain terms that she didn’t like the memoirs I have written, and she wasn’t going to read them anymore. She didn’t explain what I had said or why it bothered her so much. Karen also said she wasn’t going to read my fictional stories either. This upset me since I have always supported her in everything she has done. And this was the first time I ever asked her to do anything for me. As a result, she hasn’t spoken to me in five months. Even though one of the final things she said to me was that she had always been able to forgive people quickly, apparently, that ability did not apply to me.

In the last several weeks, I decided to attempt to gain a better understanding of why my sister, as a child, felt having me as a sister and a twin, was a liability. I have reflected on my childhood behaviors.  At one point in our late adolescence, she yelled at me, “if I ever run away, it will be because of you.” I recall responding,” Me, what did I do?” I have pondered this question many times of the years, and I believe I have finally come up with the answer. Karen just wanted to be an ordinary girl with an average family. And then there I was big as life, and somehow inadvertently calling attention to myself by being so different. And because I was an unusual child, my differences reflected on her. Because we were in the same family, and in the same classroom for the majority of our school experiences.

These same differences are what have enabled me to become an artist, a writer. These are not character flaws.

I have to admit that many of my closest friends were of the four-legged variety. I befriended every cat and dog in my neighborhood and any ones I met along my path in life. I also had a best friend that lived two doors down from me and neighborhood friends and school friends. Karen and I had some friends in common we just never went to visit them at the same time.

As a child, I was often content spending time by myself and recalled going out and sitting in the backyard and watching the birds flying in the sky. And I have clear memories of being able to imagine myself being a bird and flying across the sky. One-year, when we were probably seven or eight. My sister and I were given chicks for Easter. I named my chick Maverick after a character on a TV show I watched. I used to walk around my neighborhood with Maverick on my head. It never occurred to me that it was unusual or weird. But even if it did, I would have done it anyway.

I recall watching a movie called “The Flower Drum Song” about a beautiful young Japanese woman.  I was about eight or nine years old . I became enamored with the music and how beautiful the woman was, and for a few weeks, I pretended to be Japanese. I put my hair in a similar style as she did and walked with the kind of shuffle she had because she was wearing a kimono and wooden shoes. Of course, I wasn’t wearing the shoes or the kimono, but that didn’t stop me. I don’t recall my parents or siblings asking me, “what are you doing” Why are you walking like that?” I would have explained it if they asked, but they never did. I suppose they just thought I was acting weird again.

My sister and I shared eight years in the same classrooms in Catholic Parochial School. She avoided interacting with me. She never acknowledged that I was her sister. It was not uncommon for the other kids, not to know that we were siblings. Many people thought my friend Helen and I were the twins. In high school, My sister and I were in different classes, and I rarely saw her. At home, if we talked to each other at all, it was usually an argument.

It’s unfortunate that Karen didn’t get to know me when we were children. Possibly she would have realized that I was an interesting and intelligent person with a wide variety of interests, including art, sewing, animals, writing stories, and reading on every subject imaginable.

Someday hopefully not too far in the future, she will reevaluate her feelings towards me because the clock keeps ticking and time is slipping away. And none of us know when that time will run out for us. Perhaps she will come to realize that what other people think about our family makes little difference. What is important is what we mean to each other. And our acceptance of who we are with our strengths and weaknesses. I’ll always love my sister. She is in my heart.

As a final note, I would like to add that I have observed that creative people share some common traits. They can have a rapid flow of ideas, sometimes, multiple concepts at one time. Also, they have acute sensory skills, strong intuition, heighten awareness, empathetic, and tuned into other people’s emotions and feelings. I have some of these traits myself. Also, when I attended Temple University at Tyler School of Art in Philadelphia at the age of 36-40, I observed these traits in my fellow students. Being creative can be both a gift and a challenge. You are often seen as too sensitive, too much of a perfectionist. I can not stress how often I have was told I was too sensitive throughout my entire lifetime.

And finally, I would like to say in a world where you can be anything, be kind.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

GOOD MORNING STUDENTS,MY NAME IS SISTER JOHN MICHAEL

In she storms her full skirt, making a swishing noise as she moves. When she stops, the giant rosary that hangs from her waist swings back and forth, she’s dressed in black that flows down to the top of her black boots; a white wimple covered her forehead and chin. And she wears a white bib that spans her shoulders from one side to the other. 

If she has any hair, you can’t see it; a black veil covers her head. She appears six feet tall. My first thought is she’s the Wicked Witch of the West.

Today is my first day of school at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Elementary School. I’m seven years old.   The classroom is overflowing with kids. There’re more kids in the class there than desks. A bunch of other kids and I have to sit on the windowsill. I saw three first grades in line in the schoolyard.

There’s a low murmur as the students whisper to one another. Suddenly, Sister yells out, “that will be enough of that. No one is to speak unless they have permission to speak, or unless I ask you a direct question, is that understood?” None of us made a sound.

She screeches, what’s wrong with you? Answer.

We mumble, “Yes.”

She says, “when you reply, you are to say, yes, Sister, or no, Sister.” Now repeat after me, yes, Sister, no. Sister.”

And we did.  “Yes, sister, no sister.”

“If you have to go to the bathroom, you must raise your hand, and ask for permission, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sister.” We say as one.

She walks up to the blackboard and picks up a piece of chalk, and writes her name, Sister John Michael. None of us can read.   “My name is Sister John Michael. You may call me Sister. By the end of the school year, you all will be able to read and write your names. You will know how to do Arithmetic.”

“Good, now let us begin. I’ll start with the fist aisle. You will stand and state your name, now go.”  I ‘m not in an aisle, so I’m hoping I won’t have to stand up and say my name.

After everyone who has a desk says their names, Sister tells the students sitting on the windowsills to speak. When it’s my turn, I stand up, and with my head down, mumble my name, “Susan Carberry.”

“What? I can’t hear you, speak up, and put your head up.”

I put my head up, but I don’t look at her. I stare at the large round clock that’s on the column in front of her. I don’t know how to tell time, but I hope it will be time to leave soon.  I spit it out all at once, “my name is Susan Carberry.” Then I sit down so hard, I jar my whole body.

After everyone has introduced themselves, Sister picks up a long wooden stick that’s pointed at the end. We all hunker down in our seats. Wondering what she’ll do next. Is she going to hit us all one by one?

She points at green cards that line the top of the walls along the front of the room. “Boys and girls, this is the alphabet. I’m going to point at each letter and say the name, and you will all repeat it after me, do you understand?”  She puts her hands deep into the pockets hidden in her long skirt.“Yes, Sister.” We said in unison.

“Good, now we will say the alphabet over and over until we know it by heart. You will all have a chance to show your classmates that you recognize and say each letter out loud. Later we’ll begin writing the letters in a special copybook. And you will learn how to read words that are made by putting these letters together. You will learn how to read and write by the end of the year. You will have to work hard. But you will learn. Do you understand?”

We all sit and stare at her. No one answers. Her voiced booms out, “I said, do you understand?” I for one don’t know what she’s talking about. But I yell out as loudly as I can,” Yes, Sister.”

“Well, Miss Carberry, you’re learning already. Now, I want to hear the whole class. Do you understand what I said?”

All a sudden everyone yells as loud as they can, “Yes, sister.”

“Good, let us begin. I’ll point at each letter and say the name. You’ll all repeat what I said, out loud. Let’s begin.”

After we repeat every letter out loud, Sister announces,” we’ll practice this every day. Beginning next week each student will be called on and they will have to repeat each letter as I point at it. Everyone will have a chance. “Do you understand class?”

There was a moment of silence and then sister repeats, “Do you understand?”

We all yelled out,” Yes, sister.”

My stomach tightens up. I feel sick. I know I’ll never be able to learn all these letters and say them all out loud in front of the class. I want to run out the door and go home.

And then sister says, “Alright class, it’s time to use the girls and boy’s room before recess. Will aisle one and two come to the front of the room and stand at the door?” I look around at the rest of the class, and I wonder what’s a boy’s and girl’s room? Does everyone else know?

And then the first two rows go up to the front and sister says. “boys in front, girls in the back. Go out into the hall and wait until I come out there and direct you to the bathrooms. Be silent, do you understand?”

“Yes, sister.”

And they all walk silently out into the hall. Well, at least I now know we’re all going to the bathroom. I wait my turn hoping I don’t have to wait too long because my stomach is really hurting.  Finally, it’s the turn for the people sitting on the window sills to go to the bathroom. We march out to the hall.

Sister says. “No, talking.”

Suddenly I feel someone t.ake my hand I look to see who it is. It’s a girl with curly brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She smiles at me and I smile back. My stomach starts to feel a little better. Sister yells, “go into the bathroom now. When you finish, form a line and wait until you are all done and then go back to the class and sit where you were sitting before.

My new friend and I hold hands until we get in the bathroom. We see four doors inside. We each open one of the doors and look inside. There is a toilet in there. We go in, and then we shut the door. It’s weird, but at least I have a moment alone when sister will not yell at me. When I’m done, I flush, the toilet and my friend is waiting at the door for me.

‘Hi, my name is Irene Simpson. What’s your name? “

“My name is Susie Carberry.” I, smiling shyly at her. We walk out hand in hand into the hall.  After all the kids are out, there we march back to the classroom and sit down again.

“Alright class, quiet, please we’ll begin practicing our letters. The first person in each row pass the copybooks to the person behind you. I would like a volunteer to come up to the front of the class to pass out the copybooks to the people who sit next to the windows. What no one wants to volunteer?” She looks up and down the aisle.

I feel her eyes resting on me. I turn my head slightly and put my head down. I’m thinking, please, please don’t call out my name.

“No volunteers? Alright then, Miss Carberry, come up here and get the books, please and pass them out.” I try to shrink down lower. “Miss Carberry, Susan Carberry, come up here this minute. I can see you.” I hop off the windowsill and walk up to the front of the class, and stick out my hands to take the books.

“Very good Miss Carberry, that wasn’t that bad was it?’ She hands the black and white books to me. I turn around and walk to the back of the class to the window and give each of the kids a book. And then I plop back on my window seat. I take a deep breath.

“Alright, let us. Begin I’m going to pass out pencils to each student and you must never lose it. This will be your pencil. And then, we will begin learning to write the letters.  Do you understand students?”

We all say, “yes, sister.” And sister hands out the pencils and shows us how we are to write the letter on the special lines of the copybook. It takes forever to fill up one page of letters.

I’m tired and want to go home. I feel like crying, but I hold it in. “Alright girls and boys, it’s almost time to go home for lunch. Please put your pencils and books on your desk or on the windowsill next to you. I ‘ll be calling each row and we will be walking outside. You will wait until you are dismissed and then you can go home for lunch. There’re people who will help you cross the streets if you need them. They are called safeties they have badges on over their uniforms. Do what they say. You have to come back to class at 12:30 and meet in the schoolyard and stay there until the bell rings then line up and you will come back here to class for the afternoon. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sister.”I have no intention of ever returning to this classroom. But later my mother told me I would have to go back there. My older sister tells me I will have to go to school for twelve years. But I know that can’t be true. So I stick my tongue out at her.

The Apron

I run up the front steps and throw back the storm door and pull open our red, front door. It’s 3:08 pm. My personal best time for getting out of the third-grade classroom and into our kitchen. I open the cubbyhole next to the front door, toss in my schoolbag with one hand, pull off my galoshes, and threw them in with my other hand.

My mother is standing slightly hunched over the ironing board. There’s a basket of clean clothes waiting to be ironed on the kitchen table. The front of her dark hair is still set in bobby pins. She’s wearing her everyday apron over her favorite blue housedress. Hanging down her apron is a line of safety pins that are attached to one another. They sway back and forth every time she leans over to pick up the next pair of my fathers’ pants or shirt. Anything that doesn’t get ironed today, she‘ll roll up and store in the refrigerator until tomorrow.
“Hi, Mom!”

“Susie, don’t forget to hang up your coat in the closet. How was your day, did you learn anything new today?”

“Well, I learn how to spell Mississippi and Arithmetic.”

“Would you like to have a snack?”

“Yeah, I’m starving, what are we having for dinner? I smell something good.”

“I made stew, your favorite, and I’m making the crust for the top.”

My mother walks across the room and takes out a glass and fills it with milk from the fridge. We have a milkman. His name is Ralph. He delivers milk and sometimes eggs to our side door early every morning. He takes away the empty bottles. He has bushy red hair and a mustache. There is always a big, stinky cigar sticking out of the side of his mouth that bobs up and down when he speaks.

My mother takes two homemade peanut butter cookies out of our Happy Face cookie jar. She puts them on the table near the front window and hands me the glass of cold milk. I dunk the cookies into the milk.

“Where’s Karen, Susie, how come she didn’t come home with you?”

“Oh, I forgot. She asked me to tell you that she was going to play over at Anne Marie’s house until dinnertime.”

“Well, she knows she’s supposed to come home first. Susie, when you finish your snack, will you pick up the newspapers off the floor, and throw them away.”

When my mother washes the linoleum floor, she always covers it with newspapers until it dries. So, if we walk on the floor when it’s wet, we won’t leave dirty footprints.

After my snack, I throw away the newspapers and run up the stairs to my room to change out of my school uniform. I cross the room and hang my uniform on a hanger in my closet. Well, it isn’t a closet. My room is on the second floor., It used to be the attic, and the “closet” is the eve of our house, which was never finished.

In the winter, it’s really cold in there, and in the summer it’s a furnace. So, either way, it isn’t a place you would want to spend a lot of time in. My older sisters’ have some of their old prom gowns stored in the closet, and sometimes I go through the boxes and try them on.

One day I decide that one of the dresses would make a beautiful dress for my doll, so I cut a big hole in the skirt which was made out of shiny blue satin with a crinoline on top. The next time my sister Jeanie visited us from New York, she noticed my dolls’ new dress and recognized the fabric. She was furious.

I decide to watch TV until dinnertime. I flop down on the floor about ten inches from the TV and put on my favorite show, Sally Starr and Chief Halftown. I love Popeye cartoons, especially when Popeye burst opens the spinach can, and gulps it down in one swallow, and his muscles immediately swell on his scrawny arms. But I still refuse to eat any vegetables except corn.

After the show, I turn off the TV. I overheard my father talking to my mother. He just woke up. He works for the bus company in Philadelphia from eleven PM at night until seven AM in the morning. So, he sleeps during the hours that I’m in school. He’s always a grouch when he wakes up, so I try to stay out of his way.

I want to hear what my Mom and Dad are talking about. So, I tiptoe over to the steps, which are next to the kitchen, and listen to what they were saying. I hear my father say,” Marie, did you look everywhere for them?”

“Yes, Harry, I did. The last time I saw them was when I put them in my apron pocket.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to have new ones made, Marie. I don’t know where we will get the money!”

I don’t know what they were talking about, but my Dad sure sounds mad at my mother. I decided it would be better if I stay out of his way for a while.

Just then, Karen comes in the door and sees me crouched on the steps, and says, “What are you doing, snooping again?”

She walks into the kitchen and starts talking to my mother. I hope she isn’t telling them I was listening on the steps. If she does, I tell them that she always listens to them talking in the kitchen through the heating vent in her bedroom.

I decide to go outside, just in case. So, I put my boots on over my sneakers and my favorite coat. It‘s too small for me, but I love it. It’s fake white fur with big blue snowflakes on it. The hood is trimmed with fur. This is the first coat that was really mine and didn’t belong to one of my older sisters first. 

As I jumped down the front steps, I almost fall because there was a thin layer of ice. I decided to make snow angels in the back yard. I jump down the steps two at a time to the backyard. I notice the snow is beginning to melt.

I was hoping it will snow again soon, really deep so I can have some snow days off. I’ll build a snow fort. And have snowball fights with all the kids in the neighborhood.

I flop on my back and move my arms up and down. I’m disappointed because there isn’t enough snow for the angel’s wings to show up good. Maybe it will snow tonight. I decide to add that to my prayers tonight. Please God, please let it snow- two, no, three feet!

Then I hear my mother calling from the side door, “Susie, come in and get ready for dinner.” As I was going to the side step, I saw something on the ground. I walk over to it and push it with my foot. I realize it’s false teeth. What in the world are teeth doing out here?

And then it almost feels like a bell goes off in my head when I realize it’s my mother’s teeth. My mother and father wear false teeth. That’s what my parents were talking about in the kitchen. I stuff them in my pocket and run into the house. My sisters and parents are all sitting around the table. “Mom and Daddy guess what, guess what?”

“Susie take off your boots before you make the floor all dirty again!”
”But Mom I have a surprise.”

“Boots first, surprise later, Susie.”

I run into the hall and throw my wet coat on the floor, kick my boots onto the closet floor, and run back to the kitchen.

“Now, can I tell you?”

“OK Susie, what is the big surprise, maybe then we can eat in peace?”

I open my hand like I have a precious gem in my hand.

My father says, “Look, Marie, It’s your teeth!”

My mother comes over and gives me a big hug, and says, “but where did you find them, Susie; I looked everywhere?”

“I found them on the ground next to the garbage cans. Mom, they must have fallen out of your apron pocket when you leaned over to put the garbage in the can. I guess today is your lucky day.”