not come home, I asked again and again when she would be back. My brothers and sisters were completely grief-stricken. Their faces told the story to Joe and me even though we could not comprehend completely the words they had said.
Our father stayed away night after night. I guess that was good since we did not have to worry about him coming home to harass us. Helen would go to gram's when we were so hungry we could not take it anymore. She would return with some food.
Thinking back to that time, I now realize that our mom was the anchor of our family. When she walked into a room, life came with her. The house came alive with her stories, and she introduced laughter into our lives. She was our protector, our ray of sunshine. We were all completely lost, adrift at sea without her; it was hard for any of us to accept that she was not coming back. Our hearts and our spirits were broken.
Never again would we hear her laughter or the sound of her beautiful voice. Things were tough when she was there, but now they were bound to be unbearable. We always knew we could count on mom. She was someone who would listen to us when we were sick or hungry, and always found a way to get what we needed. We belonged to her. Now would we belong or matter to anyone other than each other again?
I have been so scared at different times of my early life and beyond, but when the realization that mom was not coming home, I started a life long dream to belong; somewhere, anywhere. I would never again be hugged as a child, or belong to someone again, at least not until I became an adult. I was always scared of people leaving me. Always feeling like I was a burden, another mouth to feed. It seemed as if my purpose in life was gone.
I missed out as a small child, No longer having someone to hold me and realize the warmth of being loved. I could close my eyes and actually feel how that used to feel. As years went on, I often wondered where I did belong. When gram came, there was food, but no comfort and no love. I don't remember anyone ever hugging us. Our father seemed to know when gram was there. He would drop in for short periods. Not to comfort us, but to change his clothes. Months went by, and we came to realize that our father had a girlfriend who had children of her own. One day, he came home and told Helen to take her brothers and sisters to Father Burke, the parish priest at Saint Michael's Church.
Father Burke had helped us in the past. My father said to tell him that he could no longer take care of us children. He wanted the priest to place us in a home. He took our mother's watch, her one piece of jewelry, and gave it to his girlfriend. We never saw him again. He never said he was sorry, or showed any sadness, or asked if we were hungry. He never even said goodbye.
It seemed our father wanted a new life with his new family. We were glad to be rid of him. Helen and the others would not have to deal with his drunken rages and his messed pants anymore. Helen did not listen to his orders though. Instead, she went to our gram and let her know what he had said. Gram took us to her house to live with her and her son, Ogie. He was gram's only son.
Gram had six daughters. Ogie was a step above our father, but not much more than that. Gram and Uncle Ogie seemed more like husband and wife than mother and son. He never married, and had some very strange ways. Ogie could do no wrong in gram's eyes. He drank often. He was very demanding of us. Looking back, I think he was jealous of us because he thought we took attention away from him. I was terrified of him. Luckily, he stayed in his room most of the time, especially after he had been drinking.
All uncle Ogie would have to do was look at me, and it just felt like I was melting away. I wished I were. To me, he was the boogieman. He knew we were scared, so he took advantage of that fear. He seemed to really enjoy the power he had over us. He tolerated Betty the most. She had such a great way about her. But I don't think I have ever met anyone who did not like her.
Unfortunately, because of this, she had to wait on him hand and foot. She was the only one allowed in his room. Poor Betty became his servant. I asked her, when we got older, if he had ever abused her. She did not want talk about it. He would come home drunk and tell us to get in line to get a nickel. Of course he would have to torture us before we got it. One by one, we would wait in line for our nickel. Me first, then Joey, Margie, then Betty. Lyda was last because Charlie was usually out shining shoes.
When he would get to her, the fight would begin. He would tell Lyda that she looked just like our father. She would try not to respond, but sometimes he would continue to needle her. She would give him a look, then tell him to keep his nickel. One time, she threw his nickel on the floor. We all followed by throwing our nickels on the floor, too. Loyalty was important to us even then, as young as we were.
It seemed as if Lyda was a target for all the adults. She often would stand up to them when she thought they were wrong. Throughout her life she would often fight for the underdog. She was not a tough person. She was a little girl who would not allow people to humiliate her, or anyone else she cared about. Even then, as a child she had integrity. I think it intimidated the men in our lives that wanted us to fear them. She was not afraid of Uncle Ogie; at least she did not let on if she was. Margie and I were completely different. We were both equally scared to death of him.
We all loved and admired Lyda. At 12 years old, she was our leader. I believe she taught us lessons along the way. The most important one? Never allow someone to degrade you. Helen, although the oldest, was very kind, yet shy and subservient. Mark did what was asked of him. He never wanted to cause a problem or make waves. Charlie was a rebel but took to his shoeshining everyday. Charlie made some good money working. He was a hustler. Charlie was the best moneymaker of all of us, and our gram knew it.
She took all the money any of us made. Charlie would come in, and right away she would ask him how much he made. If it were four dollars he would say one dollar. Gram quickly came to realize she was being scammed. She resorted to searching him and if he was caught she would keep him in; which was the worst thing she could do to Charlie.
Charlie was rarely home. He was a restless spirit. Gram would punish him and he would sneak out. She even put a dress on him, thinking he would be too embarrassed to go out in public, but he still went. He soon found out how to please her. He would give her a bigger share, and she fell for it. He would come home and get the boys to go upstairs. Once up there, they'd go to the window, toss a rope down to Charlie, and he would tie the daily catch in the box, and the boys would pull his shoeshine box up. We would empty it, send it back down to him, and then he would go in the house and be frisked by gram.
Neither Charlie, nor Lyda were not liked by the adults. Charlie because he was restless and a hustler, and Lydia because she had such a strong personality. Charlie built a life outside of our family. Betty had the gift of gab. Margie was quiet and distant, even from us. Joey was so cute, and had a personality to match. I was the stubborn and precocious one.
About two weeks after moving in with gram, she found out that our father had gone to court and asked a judge to hand over the trust fund money that was in my brother Joey's name. Shortly before our mother's death, Joey was hit by a truck, and received a small stipend from the insurance company. Our father told the judge that if he could get the money out for Christmas he would be able to get a few things for his children yo open on Christmas morning. He 'forgot' to mention that he had abandoned his children just two weeks before. He told the judge his wife just died, and he wanted to make it a nice Christmas since this was their first Christmas without her.
The judge told him the money had to be used for his children, and if he found out it was not, my father would be arrested. Later, my grandmother went to court for custody so she could get public assistance for us. When she found out what our father had done, she went right to the judge and told him that our father abandoned us and took off with his girlfriend, and the money. The judge was furious. He ordered a warrant for my father's arrest.
Our family story hit the newspapers. Headlines of "Father of 8 abandons children and takes son's money," became all too familiar, especially, the pictures of us around the potbelly stove. Gram loved the attention, as she was getting money hand over fist. We were exploited. People were mailing in money. People wanted to adopt us, but of course, gram would not allow that. She wanted the money, the control, and the power. We never saw any of the money that was sent. But for the first time in our lives, we had a daily meal; and we were thankful.
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