by Cherie Logan
My mother and father were married in 1954. He served for a year
in
Greenland while my mother continued to live with her parents in Salem,
Oregon. I was born in 1956 in a Portland, Oregon hospital.
My mother tells me that her plan was to have me in Salem but before the
end of her pregnancy her doctor moved to Portland. She made the
trip
to there rather than change doctors at such a late point in her
pregnancy.
We lived in a little house on my mother's parents property. I
would
walk the few feet to Grandma's and she would curl my hair. My
earliest
memory is of a swing in the backyard attached to the tree.
In 1958 my sister, Julie, was born in Salem. Shortly afterwards
we
moved to San Diego, California. At first we lived with my
mother's
brother. We lived downstairs. When I was older I was
terrified
to go downstairs. I would stand at the staircase, try to gather
as
much courage as possible so I could run across the floor to get to the
light switch and flip it on. I hated this downstairs
room.
There were Tahitian masks on the wall.
My mother told me once that when we stayed there it was infested with
large
black cockroaches or water beetles. My fear of that room must
have
come from those horrible bugs. When I was a child I would have
nightmares
about the roaches. I would awaken, sit up in my bed and imagine
that
there were millions of black bugs crawling up my white wall. Even
today I am certain that they charge straight at me should I surprise
them
in the night. I am relieved that most of my life has been
roach-free!
Another place we lived was an apartment complex. We lived on the
upper floor. I had a playmate living next door, a little
boy.
His mother would shop at the navy store and come home with their
groceries
inside cardboard boxes. We would play on the grass downstairs and
pretend that the boxes were our boats. Sometimes they were our
cars
and we would have keys to turn them on.
There was a swing set in the play area and I remember someone getting
hurt
by the swing hitting them in the head. A father was there and he
bought all of the children ice cream from the ice cream truck. I
have mixed feelings about this memory -- was I the one hit? Was I
just an observer? Was it my father or someone else's dad who
bought
the ice cream?
I have no real memories of father. When Chani, my first daughter, was a baby I would watch her tender relationship with her daddy. It opened old feelings of loss, pain and fear of rejection. I spoke to Neil of my feelings one night. Through tears I told him that if he loved my daughter he would never leave her. Neil held me and comforted my heart by reminding me that he was not my father. The feelings passed but for a brief time they were quite intense.
Mother never spoke ill of my father. They divorced when I was a very young child and my sister was only a baby. It was very hard for my mother. She was a young woman in her early twenties with two small daughters. As a mother I have often contemplated how sad and painful some things must have been for her.
I rejoice when my husband comes home after I have had a particularly child-stressed day. Just to have another adult present who loved me and my children was relief enough so that I could start the next day renewed. I have wondered where Mother got her renewing at the end of stressful times.
There were times when Mother dated. Once we went with her. Her date drove a convertible and it was an exciting experience. We visited a house on a hill not far from the ocean. I remember looking at all of his interesting things and hearing my mother caution us to be careful.
Mother often told me that I really wanted a daddy. I would ask other men if they would be take on the role. Once we rode home in a taxi I asked the driver if he thought my mother was pretty. "Yes," he said.
"Will you marry her?" I asked. I was totally unaware of how my mother must have been blushing.
He laughed and said. "I do not think that my wife would approve."
Whatever financial problems there might have been I was oblivious of them as a young child. I was with my mother and sister and the world was an interesting place.
Once when we were supposed to be taking our naps, Julie swallowed a large marble and it stuck in her throat. I ran into the living room to tell mother. Julie was turning blue as Mother grabbed her. She ran outside screaming for help. A man was watering his plants next door and jumped over the small fence. He grabbed Julie from my mother. Then turning her upside down he dug the marble out of her throat. He saved her life. She must have only been about two years old. Heavenly Father really blessed us that day. I pray that the man will be greatly rewarded.
Once, Julie got hit in the head by a rock thrown by a boy. We had to take her to the doctor's office to have it taken care of.
We went to the big Methodist Church down the street. I remember walking there.
Our babysitter was named Mrs. Lyons. Julie was especially attached to her. Afterwards she stopped being our sitter, my mother had a difficult time keeping a sitter for us as I was "impossible to manage".
It had a patio with a wooden slat covering. There were daddy-long-legs living there. There was also a shed or a door to the garage - I don't remember which. I was very scared of it because I had once seen a tarantula crawling across the floor.
Once I found a bird's nest. My mother told me to leave it alone or the mother bird would never come back. I took the eggs and put them under my pillow to keep them warm so that they would hatch. My mother found them and told me that they would not hatch and that the mother would not take them back. We put them in the window sill but even the sun could not warm them all of the time. I was heartbroken that I had saddened the mother bird and had killed the unhatched babies.
We used to get up very early and get into the cupboards to eat the food. My mother would like to sleep in on Saturdays so our bedroom door was locked with a latch at the top. Because Julie was not potty trained she would have to sleep with mother on the weekends. Of course we would all wake up very early. Julie would come to the door while mother slept. Once we slid books under the door for her to pile up one upon the other. When as she tried to stand on them to unlock the door she tumbled down. The noise of the crash awakened our mothers and we were "in trouble" again.
Once Julie was with us in the room and she needed to go potty. We couldn't get Mom up so I told her to mess in the closet and we got caught.
Once we colored on the walls and Mom and Bev had to wash it off. I stood behind Mother and kept pointing out where she needed to scrub. Mother became somewhat irritated with me and said, "You think you're pretty smart don't you?" Mimicking the Yogi Bear Cartoon, Julie piped up in her very deep voice, "Yea, smarter than the average bear."
We liked to jump on Shannon's bed. We broke her bed! Our poor mothers!
During this time I started school. I would walk home from school and it seemed like a very long journey. The only thing I remember about the school was the coatroom where the lunch pails were kept. There was a boy that I was not happy to be around but I don't know why.
This period of my life feels like a good dream, a fun and happy time for me as a child.
Today I am awed by the strength of my young mother. She filled my early life with laughter and love. All alone. I cannot imagine what the struggle must have been like for her in the quiet dark of night. The day came when she married a good man and after his death another good man took her as bride and they had many happy years together before he, too, was called away in death. We are ten hours apart by freeway and in constant contact by computer. My mother...my first love and my gentle companion.
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