Scribblings

"Never Such Devoted Sisters"

One of my favorite holiday movies is White Christmas. The two lead actresses play a singing sister act and they do a really cute number together called “Sisters”. I’ve been thinking about that song since yesterday because there’s been a lot of tension between Michelle and Linda.

My cousins Anne and Edith did a really adorable adaptation of the song. Anne was 12 when Edith was born and I think they didn’t have as much intensely negative feelings as many sisters do. I mean, yeah, it was a pain in the neck for them to share the room. They’re of totally different generations. Yet, they have remained close and loving friends as well as sisters. Anyway, I remember several times when the two of them would impulsively break into song:

They were fun to watch and there was still something very touching about the two of them. As they sang together, I found myself wishing that I had a sister, too.

It seems to me that having a sister can be wonderful if you’ve got a loving friend. I think it’s not so wonderful during rough times, when sisters are angry with each other. I don’t remember Anne and Edith ever being estranged but I remember when it happened to my mother and my aunt Betty.

My aunt and my mother are two years apart; Mom is the “baby” of the family. They also were the only deaf members of the family and so they had that in common too. They both went to the Lexington School for the Deaf, a boarding school that took them away from their parents and brothers. They had loneliness and fear of the unknown and of the strict teachers in common, too.

When I was really little, I thought that my aunt and uncle were my “other” parents. They were over visiting or we were over at their house visiting. My cousins, my brother and I grew up together, well, until we were 10.

But somewhere in there was a year long period of estrangement, when my mother was so angry with my aunt that she wouldn’t even stay in the same room with her.

It started when my Grandma fell at Fire Island and broke her leg. It was a compound fracture, a very scary thing for me to see. I’ve never forgotten it. I think, but am not sure, that I was 8 or 9 when it happened.

My grandfather, a truly scary man in his own way, wasn’t able to take care of my grandma … or he wouldn’t. His health had been declining rather quickly. He had diabetes and needed my grandma to give him shots of insulin. He was almost completely deaf. It was hard for him to get around. My mother and aunt decided my grandma couldn’t be left in his hands. They decided they would share taking care of grandma.

Now, I don’t know why the brothers didn’t help. Three of my 4 uncles lived within 20 minutes of my grandmother. My aunt decided it would be fair for her to give up Saturday and Sunday to take care of grandma. My mom should take the week. How did she figure this was a fair arrangement? Beats the heck out of me. I remember my mother saying that it was because my aunt felt that Anne and Robert needed her more than my brother and I needed my mother. Don’t ask me …

I think my mother also didn’t see the logic in my aunt’s reasoning but she didn’t complain openly. Later she told me that she didn’t argue because my aunt was stubborn and bossy and they’d still be arguing six months down the road. So my mother fumed quietly and took care of grandma during the week. My dad would take her over on Monday morning and we wouldn’t see her again until Friday evening. Other than missing my mother, the one memory I have of the first few weeks was that my dad made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for my brother and me every day! It was great at first but I soon got sick of it.

One Friday, my mom came home sick. It might have been when she’d had her awful experience, possibly an episode of Old Hag Syndrome (see January 12th entry). Anyway, my uncle came over with my cousins after he’d dropped my aunt off. My mom didn’t stay and chat as she usually did. She went to bed. My dad and my uncle were still visiting, so my cousins and my brother and I went into the living room looking for something to watch on television.

Anne decided she wanted to watch a scary movie called The House on Haunted Hill. I didn’t even like the sound of the title and said no. Anne insisted we watch. I insisted we not watch so Anne called for a vote. Robert and my brother, who didn’t want to be labeled a chicken, voted with Anne. I don’t remember a lot about the movie except that it gave me the heebie-jeebies.

At some point, my dad found out we were still up and told my brother and me to go to bed, it was late.

I told my dad I was scared to go to sleep because of the movie. My dad signed, “Don’t be silly.”

There was no way I wanted to go to bed. I think part of it was because I was scared but a stronger reason was because Anne and Robert were still there and I wanted to stay up. So my brother and I started out for bed and then I had an inspiration. I would tell mom and she would let us stay up. So the two of us went into my parents’ bedroom and I woke my mother.

It took a few minutes for her to understand what I was trying to tell her. When she did, she exploded out of the bed like a bomb going off. She took off running into the dining room and began signing furiously at my uncle. At that time, I didn’t know much signs but I could understand her main idea – that first my aunt and uncle ‘take advantage’ of my mother during the week and now they were stupid and let the kids watch scary movies because no one was watching and so on and so on.

I was terrified! I’d never seen my mother so angry. She began to scream with her voice and her hands. “Get out, get out, get out!” All of us kids were rooted to the spot. I think my father was frozen to his chair too. My uncle got up and told my cousins to come on. They left. I thought my mother would turn on Pete and me and kill us but instead she just burst into tears. That was even scarier.

I was hoping that things would be better over the weekend, but it just got worse. I didn’t see it but apparently my mother and aunt “had words” over at my grandmother’s at the changing of the shifts. After that, I just remember how much I missed my cousins. I remember my mother crying. I remember my grandma begging her to make peace with aunt Betty. My mother refused and then my grandma would cry. Then I would cry too because if grandma was crying things must be pretty bad.

I’m not sure what finally brought the reconciliation between my mom and my aunt. I just thank God something happened to bring them together. They have been close ever since, being very very careful not to ever get into such a heated dispute again.

Life is too short and you just never know what will happen tomorrow. I am praying that Michelle and Linda can work things out.