All for Love
"God knows everything. There isn't anything He doesn't know about you. If you commit a sin, He will know and you will go to...uh...well...you know. Think about what scares you the most," she said. I thought about long, fat, slimy night crawlers. "Okay, now whatever that is--your worst fears--that is how you will spend eternity if you break His rules." Oh, no! Eternity with worms sliming all over my body!
The Sunday school teacher fidgeted in her seat after telling her young students they could go to h-e-double l. It was okay to say the word if you were talking about a place opposite Heaven, but it was not okay to say, "You are going to...you know." If you used it that way, you were saying a bad word, and if you said bad words, or if you crossed lines that were forbidden to cross, God will know it and send you straight to that place opposite Heaven. Little did she know that she could have saved her breath as far as I was concerned. I was already aware that God knew everything. He told Ruth--this is not my sister, Judy, in case you were thinking that--that I had crossed the line. (Referring to an earlier story in the book when the young protagonist's older sister had drawn a line on their bedroom floor and warned her not to cross it. She crossed it, of course, when no one was around. But God tattled on her, and that's when Ruth--not my sister, Judy, if you were thinking it was--tried to suffocate her with a pillow.)
My Sunday school teacher had long brown hair that coiled like a snake on top of her head. It looked like a Cobra that had just swallowed a rat, but she called it a beehive. Her clothes were homemade and designed to hide the curves of her body. She wore no makeup or jewelry. Our church didn't allow it. I don't remember if it was a sin in 1952, or if it was that God just didn't like for women to wear makeup or jewelry and show their elbows and knees. No one could say for certain why God had those rules, but I was warned by my teacher not to question them.
Mother did not break the makeup, jewelry or dress code, but she did break another rule. Accepted as a member of The First Holy Church on Michigan Street, she was allowed to tithe 10% of her meager earnings to the church, but that didn't wash away her tarnish. She was not a Christian in the purest sense because she was divorced.
The day my Sunday school teacher informed me that God knew everything I did was the same day my grandmother gave Mother the sermon on the pew. Mother didn't ask for my grandmother's opinion. It was unsolicited, unexpected, and a shock to both of us.
I had fallen asleep during Reverend Johnson's altar call and as usual, my mother's lap was my pillow, and my thumb was my comfort. She always stroked my arms, but sometimes when she was lost in the message, she'd stop momentarily so she could focus on God's word. Noticing that my caresser was slacking on the job, I'd shake my arm and she'd return to stroking. This was my favorite part of church.
While I was enjoying my strokes and thumb, my head was accidentally knocked off Mother's lap by Grandmother. It crashed on the hard pew, and my first instinct was to cry, but when I looked up and saw Mother who was now standing and facing her mother who was now lecturing her about the sin of remarrying, the urge evaded me. The expression on both of their faces was the same: fear.
Grandmother couldn't wait for the church service to end before jumping out of her seat and running back to rescue her daughter's soul. The only way Grandmother knew how to show her love was to stand between her daughter and the devil. "Don't even think about remarrying, because the church won't recognize your marriage vows," my grandmother said, trembling and clutching at her chest. "Please listen to me. You'll be living in sin. If you don't believe me, read Matthew 19:9. This is not my rule. It's God's. He will punish you if you disobey Him."
Mother never once raised her voice or spoke back to her mother. She never defended herself. She never constructed long explanations in her mind to later unleash on her judge. Confrontation was not my mother's way.
* * *
It was cloaked in fear and its voice was loud and demanding, but the message was clear: Love. All that preceded this moment--the strictness, the switch, the rules---they were all for love. I was only seven, but I knew what love looked like.
The Tea Party
Sitting on the curb in my Sunday clothes, I anticipated Uncle Johnny in every car that turned onto Broadway. Okay, he'll be the next one, but he wasn't the next one or the next. It was eleven o'clock and he was supposed to pick me up at half past nine. I was beginning to think he'd forgotten me, as he sometimes did when he was busy, but I assured myself. Not today. He won't forget me this time.
The exhilaration of spending the day with Aunt Aggie and Uncle Johnny kept me in constant nervous motion. Not able to stand still, I decided to spend my time more constructively by counting the cracks in the sidewalk down to Charles' home. I had a crush on my ten-year-old neighbor and knew the cement path from my house to his quite well, but I had never counted the cracks before. When I counted eleven cracks in the sidewalk, I heard the familiar sound of my uncle's car.
"Uncle Johnny's here!" I screamed, jumping with excitement. He pulled up to the curb with a grin smeared across his handsome face. Boy! how i loved that face. His long protective arm reached across the passenger's seat and pulled me close. "Got a hug for Uncle Johnny, Baby?" Sitting next to him, I rattled on and on about nothing as he looked down at me, his blue eyes creased at the sides from his smile. "Really? That's great, Baby," he'd say.
Most of the previous day, I'd sat at the kitchen table with pencil and paper creating stick art of the two of us holding hands, and he acted like he was give golden nuggets instead of scribbles on paper. He turned his head affectionately to one side and said in baby talk, "I luz you so much. Do you know how much I luz you." I knew but pretended I didn't so he'd show me, and then he'd spread his arms as far as they could go, considering he was driving at the time.
If a picture had been taken at that moment, it would have been obvious to anyone that I was the most important person in my uncle's life. If he'd had twenty children, none would be more special than I, and if he had more time, he would spend it with me.
My aunt and uncle must have been too busy to have children of their own. Uncle Johnny's flying kept him away for days at a time, and Aunt Aggie worked six days a week trying to establish a career in real estate. When they weren't working, they devoted their extra time to charities and church functions, and when time permitted, which wasn't very often, my sister and me.
So, the morning I was sitting on the curb waiting for my chauffeur to pick me up was a very special day. It was my day with busy Agnes and Johnny Tuckor, and to add to the excitement, I was told that sometime in the middle of the day, there would be a surprise. My uncle winked and then pressed his lips together while zipping them shut, but their niece was no dummy. It was the same surprise as this time one year before--lunch with my aunt at the swanky Tea Room at L.S. Ayres' Department Store in downtown Indianapolis.
Arms Around Love's Waist
I loved going to the Tea Room with Aunt Aggie. I wasn't accustomed to restaurants with linen napkins, china, and real silver. Mother was doing well just to pay her share of the rent and utilities. There was no extra money for eating out. If she had the money, though, she would take us out to fine restaurants. I thought about how nice it would be if Mother could have come.
Sitting across from my aunt, I realized she was as pretty as Mother, but very different. No one would guess they were sisters. Agnes was tall, slender, with shoulder-length auburn hair and intense green eyes. Mother was short and petite with dark brown--almost black--hair, pale skin, and big brown eyes. My aunt was out-going and self-confident. Mother was introverted and confident about nothing. She would quickly abandon her opinion if she thought it disagreeable. To disagree might cause confrontation, and confrontation would snag the one thread that held her fragile core together. One pull and the thread could unravel, destroying her. For Mother, conflict must be avoided in order to survive, but for my aunt it was a challenge she seemed to enjoy. Aunt Aggie had a quick-draw reaction to the stimuli in her world; my mother moved in slow motion and often appeared disconnected. Mother was soft-spoken and kind, where Agnes spoke out, and her message was always direct and to the point. For what each was or was not, I loved them both, and on this particular trip to the Tea Room, I missed my mother.
When the tea party was over and Uncle Johnny dropped me off at the curb, he squeezed me hard and said, "I luz you so much it hurts." I told him I hurt too and jumped out of the car. Standing on the curb, I blew him kisses until his car disappeared from view. For a minute or two after he was gone, I ached for my loss, because I knew it would be a very long time before I would see him again.
I raced up the driveway, and there standing at the door was Mother. She'd been waiting for me. On this day she was alert, tuned in, and happy. She had both arms behind her back as if she were hiding something. When she saw me, her face blossomed into a huge smile, and she giggled when I tried to see the secret behind her back. I dodged to her left, then to her right, trying to sneak a peak. She backed into the living room with me in close pursuit. Then I saw it.
On the coffee table was a cake, and on the top sat eight candles, all eager to burn in celebration of my special day. Mother summoned Ruth and Maddie (if you're thinking this is really Hazel, remember these stories are a work of fiction) and they all sang a song just for me.
Five minutes after saying goodbye to Uncle Johnny, I was luxuriating in it again. I felt connected, valued. I felt loved. I wanted to put my arms around love's waist, squeeze it tight, and never, ever let go.
The Tea Party
Sitting on the curb in my Sunday clothes, I anticipated Uncle Johnny in every car that turned onto Broadway. Okay, he'll be the next one, but he wasn't the next one or the next. It was eleven o'clock and he was supposed to pick me up at half past nine. I was beginning to think he'd forgotten me, as he sometimes did when he was busy, but I assured myself. Not today. He won't forget me this time.
The exhilaration of spending the day with Aunt Aggie and Uncle Johnny kept me in constant nervous motion. Not able to stand still, I decided to spend my time more constructively by counting the cracks in the sidewalk down to Charles' home. I had a crush on my ten-year-old neighbor and knew the cement path from my house to his quite well, but I had never counted the cracks before. When I counted eleven cracks in the sidewalk, I heard the familiar sound of my uncle's car.
"Uncle Johnny's here!" I screamed, jumping with excitement. He pulled up to the curb with a grin smeared across his handsome face. Boy! how i loved that face. His long protective arm reached across the passenger's seat and pulled me close. "Got a hug for Uncle Johnny, Baby?" Sitting next to him, I rattled on and on about nothing as he looked down at me, his blue eyes creased at the sides from his smile. "Really? That's great, Baby," he'd say.
Most of the previous day, I'd sat at the kitchen table with pencil and paper creating stick art of the two of us holding hands, and he acted like he was give golden nuggets instead of scribbles on paper. He turned his head affectionately to one side and said in baby talk, "I luz you so much. Do you know how much I luz you." I knew but pretended I didn't so he'd show me, and then he'd spread his arms as far as they could go, considering he was driving at the time.
If a picture had been taken at that moment, it would have been obvious to anyone that I was the most important person in my uncle's life. If he'd had twenty children, none would be more special than I, and if he had more time, he would spend it with me.
My aunt and uncle must have been too busy to have children of their own. Uncle Johnny's flying kept him away for days at a time, and Aunt Aggie worked six days a week trying to establish a career in real estate. When they weren't working, they devoted their extra time to charities and church functions, and when time permitted, which wasn't very often, my sister and me.
So, the morning I was sitting on the curb waiting for my chauffeur to pick me up was a very special day. It was my day with busy Agnes and Johnny Tuckor, and to add to the excitement, I was told that sometime in the middle of the day, there would be a surprise. My uncle winked and then pressed his lips together while zipping them shut, but their niece was no dummy. It was the same surprise as this time one year before--lunch with my aunt at the swanky Tea Room at L.S. Ayres' Department Store in downtown Indianapolis.
Arms Around Love's Waist
I loved going to the Tea Room with Aunt Aggie. I wasn't accustomed to restaurants with linen napkins, china, and real silver. Mother was doing well just to pay her share of the rent and utilities. There was no extra money for eating out. If she had the money, though, she would take us out to fine restaurants. I thought about how nice it would be if Mother could have come.
Sitting across from my aunt, I realized she was as pretty as Mother, but very different. No one would guess they were sisters. Agnes was tall, slender, with shoulder-length auburn hair and intense green eyes. Mother was short and petite with dark brown--almost black--hair, pale skin, and big brown eyes. My aunt was out-going and self-confident. Mother was introverted and confident about nothing. She would quickly abandon her opinion if she thought it disagreeable. To disagree might cause confrontation, and confrontation would snag the one thread that held her fragile core together. One pull and the thread could unravel, destroying her. For Mother, conflict must be avoided in order to survive, but for my aunt it was a challenge she seemed to enjoy. Aunt Aggie had a quick-draw reaction to the stimuli in her world; my mother moved in slow motion and often appeared disconnected. Mother was soft-spoken and kind, where Agnes spoke out, and her message was always direct and to the point. For what each was or was not, I loved them both, and on this particular trip to the Tea Room, I missed my mother.
When the tea party was over and Uncle Johnny dropped me off at the curb, he squeezed me hard and said, "I luz you so much it hurts." I told him I hurt too and jumped out of the car. Standing on the curb, I blew him kisses until his car disappeared from view. For a minute or two after he was gone, I ached for my loss, because I knew it would be a very long time before I would see him again.
I raced up the driveway, and there standing at the door was Mother. She'd been waiting for me. On this day she was alert, tuned in, and happy. She had both arms behind her back as if she were hiding something. When she saw me, her face blossomed into a huge smile, and she giggled when I tried to see the secret behind her back. I dodged to her left, then to her right, trying to sneak a peak. She backed into the living room with me in close pursuit. Then I saw it.
On the coffee table was a cake, and on the top sat eight candles, all eager to burn in celebration of my special day. Mother summoned Ruth and Maddie (if you're thinking this is really Hazel, remember these stories are a work of fiction) and they all sang a song just for me.
Five minutes after saying goodbye to Uncle Johnny, I was luxuriating in it again. I felt connected, valued. I felt loved. I wanted to put my arms around love's waist, squeeze it tight, and never, ever let go.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Due to some not very nice comments from people named Anonymous, I now have to monitor comments before they are published.