I have wanted to write about my sister for a long time as she has been such an important presence in my life. I think the death of Molly Ivins this week lit a fire under me as I considered her a 'soul sister' for her rambunctious ways. A little inner piece of me always wanted to be like her and occasionally I do let my inner mouthiness out for a breath of fresh air. When I do it's fun to see people's eyebrows climb so high. And it's total bonus points when I can make my sister laugh and blush at the same time!
This story is about my relationship with my older sister, though I have no doubt my words won't begin to come close to how special she is to me in a million little ways. The challenges we overcame to have a healthy relationship were immense. My mother was an only child and as such she had little to go on in crafting a trusting family environment. We paid in ways big and small for that lack. Mother was use to being the center of the universe and saw no reason to change her position.
Bear with me while I try to do the subject of sisters in general and mine in specific, justice.
SISTERS
My mother brought me home from the hospital after a ten-day stay and placed me in my sister's arms and said. "Happy Birthday!" She was twelve years-old that day and became a surrogate mother. It didn't take me too many years to figure out how lucky I was that my mother did that.
I was the late-in-life child or as my mother use to say, her last chance to get it right. That always struck me as a pretty shallow reason to have another child, not to mention a very controlling statement of how I was to 'fix' all her so-called mistakes and erase her disappointments. She already had a foot well inside the door to alcoholism when I was born and what I later figured out to be some bi-polar issues that caused her to use alcohol to self-medicate.
But this story is about my sister and how she became a very important part of my life. My mother played a part in forging that bond that always caused her jealousy to surface in uniquely painful ways to my sister and me.
Bless my sister's heart she had to share her bedroom with me which must have been just thrilling when I was a baby and toddler. I have some vivid memories of strange bits and pieces of those years,
- waking in the dark and hearing her putting her hair up in pin-curls. The sound of the bobby-pins clinking together in the metal tin as she dug them out. Two in quick succession, then a pause while she wound another curl around her fingers.
- listening to her play the piano, especially boogie-woogie when my mother wasn't around and her patiently teaching me to play "Heart and Soul" on the treble end of the keyboard.
- seeing her all dressed up like a princess to go out to a dance with tears in her eyes because mother had picked a fight with her that evening out of jealousy.
- getting all dressed-up and going downtown on a bus to see a movie and feeling so secure with the way she held my hand. Afterwards she would take me to the dime store and let me pick out a toy with the money she earned from baby-sitting. We would linger over a Coca-Cola at the soda fountain before making our way back home.
- the summers cooling off in the neighborhood wading pool trying to escape the brutal heat of an Oklahoma sun.
- looking out the living room window watching her walk up the long hill as she came home from High School. The sense that that was the best part of my day.
- the endless hours she would play paper-dolls with me or she would make doll clothes for my dolls with her clever hands. She taught me to color inside the lines and tie my shoes.
- the matching outfits she sewed for us. We were often mistaken for mother and daughter and she never bothered to correct that impression unless my mother was around.
- she tells me I even accompanied her on her first date to a movie. The poor young man had to put up with her placing me in the seat between them, but I have no memory of that even though we share many a laugh about me being her chaperone.
Those early years are very nearly devoid of any memories of my mother save two. Once when I was 'lost' in a department store and feared I would never find her. Strange how my instinct was that it was my responsibility to do so and not hers to find me. And the other a terrifying memory of her so mad at my sister she was literally tearing the clothes right off of her. I remember screaming and crying while beating my tiny fists against my mother's legs, begging her to stop. For some reason I associate that memory with my mother sending my sister away to boarding school the last year and a half of her High School years. Somehow, I had let the cat out of the bag and my mother knew once and for all that I cared more about my sister than I did her. That again is another one of those very deeply buried impressions that it wasn't safe to let my mother know the depth of my loyalty to my sister.
My memories go completely black except for the times we drove down state to visit her at the school. My sister assures me that the year and a half was very happy for her as she was out of the war-zone my mother created around the house. She did miss me and worried how I was fairing, but at long last she had a piece of her own life to live and enjoy. I'm glad my memories are mostly blank at that time in my life as there were a great many upheavals and changes going on. My brother, fourteen years older than me, took off and joined the military and was shipped off to Korea. My parents sold the house and moved into a tiny apartment, my father started traveling - a lot, my mother took to her darkened bedroom and cried every time she heard, "Oh, Danny Boy" played on her bedside radio.
When my sister graduated from High School she hadn't been told of the move and only found out when they hauled her and her belongings home from school. Once again she had to share an even tinier bedroom with me. I was thrilled to have her back and light came back on in my life. I wanted everything to go back to what it was before she left home. It was pretty doomed from the start. Mother was even more demanding, Daddy, not there or withdrawn when he was, as that was his standard way of coping.
I knew from careful observation to be very choosy with my words and to do a great deal of pretending not to notice certain things. The hardest thing to pretend was not to show how much I cared about my sister. But mother somehow knew and in the future would use that knowledge to stop me dead in my tracks when she wanted to control me.
One day my sister walked in the kitchen door with a large box wrapped in pretty paper and before she said a word, my mother snapped, "Well, what did you buy yourself this time?" My sister just looked at her and said, "Happy Anniversary, Mother," and set the box on the dinning room table. It was one of the few times I saw my mother completely shut up. My sister had spent her salary on a gift and my mother expected the worst of her.
It wasn't long after that that my sister had a 'whirlwind' courtship with a fellow who lived in another state, up and married and left town. I think that he lived so far away was a selling point. This was the early 50's and there weren't too many opportunities for a 'good girl' to live outside of home except school or marriage. Higher education was not an option that was ever offered to my sister so she took the latter choice. You would have had to know my mother to know why this was, for my sister, the only viable out.
Again more upheaval as we moved to another state and I was torn from all my family roots this time. My sister's marriage didn't last and she had a very rough time with a highly abusive spouse. She had jumped from the frying pan into the fire to escape from Mother's demands and disappointments.
Pale, anemic, thin and with a young daughter in her arms, she came to live with us once more. Her spirit at the lowest ebb of her life and my mother's kind words were a constant refrain of, "I told you so."
Even before recovering her health she moved out and worked two jobs to support herself and her daughter. When mother would visit her at her tiny apartment she would heap criticism of her housekeeping skills ignoring the fact that she was working so hard and had a child to raise by herself. Considering my mother's skills at 'home making' and the fact we had a cleaning lady come in regularly, I found that statement to be completely illogical, but that never stopped mother from trying to insure she always had the upper hand. I remember being present at one of those scoldings and had to take myself into the kitchen as I couldn't stand the sound of scorn in my mother's voice. Hot tears ran down my face as I felt so powerless to protect my sister.
In time real happiness came to my sister's life at long last and she met and married my dear brother-in-law nearly fifty-one years ago. Of course, mother showed up at the wedding, drunk and proceeded to loudly announce that it wouldn't last six-months to all present at the wedding reception. My brother-in-law's family was totally aghast and wondered what he was letting himself in for by marrying my sister. He caught on pretty quickly to my mother's ways and in spite of her best efforts she never gained the upper hand with him.
I watched with a bit of jealousy and loneliness in my soul as my sister become a real mother to her family of three. My mother detected that in me and proceeded to use it in a way that I will never forgive. From early adolescence to her death from alcoholism when I was barely 18 my mother could stop me dead in my tracks and make me cry hot tears of pain when she uttered the words, "You know, your sister doesn't really love you, she has her own family now." As well a variations on the theme, but that phrase did me in every single time. I could hide a lot of feelings from my mother, for that was necessary for survival, but I could not hide the devastation I felt when she would utter that phrase. She used it for years until one day I kept myself from crying and just looked coldly at her. She tried all the variations, she badgered, but I held on to my tears. To say she became enraged is an understatement for I was 'invited' to move out of the house later that day as she knew after badgering me from the night before into the wee hours of the morning that she had lost her edge to control me and what she couldn't control she rejected.
My sister took me in and marched right up to the house and gave my mother the devil while I was packing my things. I was so very proud and grateful. How like her that even though she took my mother's torments for years, she was not going to stand by and let her do the same to me anymore. Just as she had made my sister's life hell years before, she did all sorts of things to punish me over the next 10 months until she died including putting my dog to sleep for revenge.
But she left her legacy of damage behind that took years of careful work to mend the torn fabric of my relationship with my sister. There was that little bit of doubt that nagged at the edges of my mind. It was years before I ever knew that my mother had pulled the same sort of things on my sister in reverse. Telling her I didn't really love her now that she had her own family.
I know you are probably wondering how any mother could do that sort of thing to her children and all I can say is my mother wanted to be the center of the universe for all of her children, She was vain and terribly insecure and believed that the only way to insure that all the love was reserved for her was to keep the rest of us from loving each other. My brother and his family were treated to the same emotional rip tides.
By the time we finally opened up about the two stories of mother's efforts to keep is apart a lot of things had to be dealt with that had long been buried. Trust had to be rebuilt. Confidence restored. It wasn't always a straight line process.
We both had families to raise and lives full of challenges. We both had a perfect blueprint of the kind of mothers we didn't want to be, but we struggled with enormous self-doubts with the directions we should and did take. Waiting to see if the results of our parenting would be better for our children.
The old 'mother tapes' would crop up from time to time and pull us apart emotionally and physically, but we both knew the love was there nevertheless. One estrangement was brought to a close by my son's suicide many years ago. We knew we needed each other and worked hard to finally eject the things that had gotten in the way once and for all. After all, not to do so would have meant that mother had won in the end and neither one of us wanted that to happen. We started visiting on a regular basis and finding ways to reconnect the frayed ends of our bond. It has evolved into something we call Sister Day.
Sister Day is usually Wednesday as it gives us the flexibility to reschedule when we have to. Oh, what fun we have. I drive across town singing to Joni Mitchell to make the time pass on the long drive. Windows rolled up so as not to scare anyone. I gather her up and off we go. Over the years we have had regular haunts for lunch depending on our particular food interests at the time. Mostly, we try to choose a place that is not to busy and that has friendly waitresses. We pay a generous 'table rent' when we leave to make up for the visiting time we take up at the table. The waitresses always want to know 'what trouble' we are going to get into today. Some days we have our itinerary figured out and some times we just start off in a general direction until inspiration hits. We leave the restaurant with hugs for the staff that astonish other patrons, but are normal for us.
We do a little shopping, head for a book store and after browsing sit at a table and drink more coffee or just drive around in the foothills, but one thing is always the same. We talk non-stop. We laugh. We lament. We solve the world's problems. We make fun of ourselves and tease each other. We pull our 'sweet, little old lady routine' to get better service. I'm more likely to be a bit outrageous of the two of us, but we both do a good job of egging each other on. Both of us are basically quiet people, except when it is just the two of us. We swear up and down that something is seriously wrong with clocks on Sister Day as all too soon it is time for my to head back to my side of the city. The trip home is never as much fun as the going.
My gratitude knows no end as I think of those early years and what my life could have been like if she hadn't cared so much and loved me so dearly. She gave me unconditional love when I didn't deserve it. Paid attention when I was lonely. And spoiled me rotten. At long last we have learned to be ourselves and burned the old 'mother tapes' that played for far too long. We won, mother. I'm sorry you couldn't accept that we could love you and each other, too.
Sister Dear, I know for you it is Saturday morning now and you are reading this as you are my number one fan. This is but a small part of all the words in my heart. I'm glad you were so happy with your birthday present all those years ago. Love, Sis.
~~~~~~~~~~
I received this email from a dear friend. I have no idea who wrote it originally, but the sentiment is universal and needs to be shared.
A young wife sat on a sofa visiting with her Mother talking about life, about marriage, about the responsibilities of life and the obligations of adulthood.
"Don't forget your Sisters," she advised. "They'll be more important as you get older. No matter how much you love your husband, no matter how much you love the children you may have, you are still going to need Sisters. Remember to go places with them now and then; do things with them. Remember that 'Sisters' means ALL the women... your girlfriends, your daughters, and all your other women relatives too. You'll need other women. Women always do."
She listened to her Mother. She kept contact with her Sisters and made more women friends each year. As the years tumbled by, one after another, she gradually came to understand that her Mom really knew what she was talking about. Sisters are the mainstays of her life.
THIS SAYS IT ALL:
Time passes.
Life happens.
Distance separates.
Children grow up.
Jobs come and go.
Love waxes and wanes.
Men don't do what they're supposed to do.
Hearts break.
Parents die.
Colleagues forget favors.
Careers end.
BUT.........
Sisters are there, no matter how much time and how many miles are between you. A girl friend is never farther away than needing her can reach. When you have to walk that lonesome valley and you have to walk it by yourself, the women in your life will be on the valley's rim, cheering you on, praying for you, pulling for you, intervening on your behalf, and waiting with open arms at the valley's end. Sometimes, they will even break the rules and walk beside you...Or come in and carry you out.
Girlfriends, daughters, granddaughters,
daughters-in-law, sisters, sisters-in-law, Mothers,
Grandmothers, aunties, nieces, cousins, and extended
family, all bless our life!
When we began this adventure called
womanhood, we had no idea of the incredible joys or
sorrows that lay ahead. Nor did we know how much we
would need each other.
Every day, we need each other still.