STAGEWORK IN CHICAGO

My biggest dream was to be in the chorus of a Broadway musical which came true when I appeared in “Annie Get Your Gun”. I never had any aspirations further than that. However, after being in the show, I came to the conclusion that I could have played one of the major parts.  So the following year I tried out for the second lead in “Silk Stockings” and won the part.

I will tell you that even though I was second lead, I got the best reviews from the local papers.  Each of the northwest suburbs in Chicago had a weekly paper that came out on Thursday with all the local news, grocery ads and actual theatrical reviews.  Our local critic called me “downright startling”, all the others raved about me but didn’t mention anyone else in the cast including the leading lady.  I was so embarrassed that I didn’t even save those.  How I regret that decision.

I only worked backstage on the next show. In addition to building and painting sets I also worked with the lighting crew on the catwalk in the ceiling above the audience.  When I climbed down at the end of the show, there were two high school students waiting to ask for my autograph.  I told them I wasn’t in the show, but they said “yes, but you were in the last one”.

SLEIGH RIDE

From the time I was a little girl I always wanted to ride in a sleigh with the snow falling about me gently in the silence of the night except for the sleigh bells ringing and the sound of the horse hoofs in the deep snow. You need lots of snow on the ground for a smooth ride and your tracks are the only ones that can be seen on the narrow trail.  I see myself in a fur-trimmed parka looking beautiful like Sonja Henie with the moon shining down and everything serene.  Being a little girl, I always thought of myself in the sleigh alone, because I couldn’t picture a boy in the sleigh with me.  The driver was some anonymous male and he would be cracking the whip, gently of course. He was probably an employee of my family, if my family ever had enough money to own a farm.

As I grew older, I would see movies with farm families going to church at Christmas in a large sleigh pulled by swift horses, the passengers filled with the joy of the season.  Wow! I wished that could be me. I would be laughing and singing carols and hymns, loving all of it just as they were.

 I had never personally seen a sleigh when I was child. However at the age of 17, a friend of the boy I was dating invited us to his girlfriend’s house.  She lived on a farm and we were to go for a ride in her sleigh. In my excitement, I dressed in what I thought appropriate, although at that time I didn’t have a parka with a fur trimmed hood.  By the time we got there the snow had turned to slush. I was totally devastated. I never even got to the barn to see the sleigh and besides I had ruined my new suede shoes.

I guess the only time I saw a real sleigh up close was when we lived in Chicago and our neighbor won the grand prize at the opening of “Santa’s Village”   Their prize was a sleigh fill with toys to be delivered the week before Christmas.  A large van parked on the main road at the foot of our street and a sleigh and reindeer were lifted out.  It was cold and miserable when Santa came down our ice covered street in the sleigh pulled by a reindeer that kept slipping and sliding and had to be held up by the crew.  All the neighbors got to be on television that night.  The family with five kids had a joyous Christmas that year. All I remember is the fake Santa and the slipping and sliding of the reindeer.  My children tell me they remember that day, even the family’s name and how jealous they were of the many presents their friends got. All this had happened over forty years ago.

I never did ride in a sleigh but I don’t think I suffered because of it. I still have wonderful pictures in my mind of what it would have been like.  Maybe the experience wouldn’t have been as great as my imagination and I would be left with disappointment.  Isn’t that what happens in life?

I’ve always been a nostalgic kind of person and I long for the old days, real and imagined. I can still see myself in our family room in Pittsburgh with the lights dimmed and looking out our French doors at the winter snow covered landscape.  Since we now live in Florida, nothing thrills me more than a Budweiser Commercial featuring the Clydesdale Horses pulling a large sleigh with the sound of their bells ringing, hoofs clip-clopping and the snow falling gently on the ground.

AFTER THOUGHT  (regarding the more serious accident)

In my remembering that Sunday in July, I discovered I had never put everything in prospective.  I had never really thought about myself and just remembered looking at my Mother and not knowing what to do. I didn’t cry, I don’t think.  I know the staff explained everything to me and I did meet the surgeon who put the pins in her hip.  I found out later he was not very capable.

I must have walked home told my young brothers and called my Grandmother and older brother who lived with her.  He was out of school and had a full time job at the Post Office and I know he contributed some money toward Mom’s bill.  He very seldom came to see her because like my Grandfather he was terrified to visit a hospital and actually felt faint when he came to see her. Even later he wouldn’t go into the hospital when he had chest pains which ultimately led to his death at 62.

We had a cleaning lady who had been coming in once a week.  I had no money except for what I earned so I couldn’t afford to pay her. My youngest brother stayed with my Grandmother part of the time.  Somebody must have paid the rent and I think some people brought food but I don’t remember. I’m positive that my Mother’s sisters also came to help. I do know that I did most of the cooking then and when my Mother came home. She was on crutches for quite awhile.

I got a call from the pastor of our church one Sunday afternoon. My brothers and I knew the priest very well and he said he would like to visit us and he came right over.  Fortunately, the day before I had cleaned the whole apartment and everything was spotless for which I was thankful. We had a nice visit.  I was told later that my grandmother’s sister who lived close to our home had called the priest and told him she didn’t think I was capable of handling all that was going on and he should do something about it.  He called her and told her everything was under control. I think my aunts and grandmother were upset with her meddling.

In thinking back about all that happened, I find myself crying for myself. I was so young and I don’t remember anyone ever thanking me or praising me for what did.  Someone should have taken care of me and I never thought about that at the time.

PROMISE KEPT

For Christmas one year we got a card from our number three daughter with a written promise saying that one day we would really be proud of her. It was no secret that we had enormous differences of opinion.

She fulfilled that promise by starting college while taking care of her two children and her husband. After graduating with a 4.0, she started a fulfilling career teaching special education students as well as earning her master’s degree again graduating with highest honors.

This was not something we had pushed for, we just wanted her to achieve her own potential. The goals she obtained were something she already had inside of her and we were extremely proud but no one can be prouder than she is of herself.

I would hope that one day her own daughter would send her the same message, just a few words. “Mom, I promise someday you will be really proud of me”

A MORE SERIOUS ACCIDENT

Our phone rang early on a Sunday morning.  The caller said there had been an accident and my mother was in the hospital.  The previous evening she had gone out to celebrate her birthday with friends.  I was just eighteen years of age and really irked because I thought that after I had walked about two or more miles uphill to the hospital that she would be all right and there was no reason for me being there. I arrived at the emergency room and they showed me where she was.  I saw this smashed up woman and said that’s not my mother, then I saw the pearl ring on her finger and realized that it really was. She was unconscious. I just stood there not knowing what to do.

I was told she probably fell asleep at the wheel and smashed into a tree.  They didn’t know how long she had been there before being found.  Her right side, from head to toe had been smashed.  When they took her into the operating room the next day to wire her jaw shut, they found the upper jaw had been broken into so many pieces they cancelled the operation and returned her to her room.  The surgeon then formulated a plan to make a plate to fit roof of the mouth which had little hooks on the outside, he then circled her head with a plaster cast, put little hooks in that and had tight rubber bands put on the hooks to hold the plate rigid.

A friend of mine who was a nursing student told me that their entire class was ordered to view the operation which had never been done before. Mom’s right hip had also been crushed and the emergency room doctor had placed in a lot of screws to hold it together. A year later she had radical surgery on the hip again by a more experienced surgeon in another hospital where after a long recovery she was able to walk without a limp.

My aunt’s brother-in-law was a surgeon and he filled me in on all that was taking place.  A nurse cousin did private duty care during the night.  They helped take the pressure off me and were very kind. Every day after work I walked to the hospital to visit. I also took care of our apartment and my younger brothers. Naturally family did visit when they could.  My grandmother came often when she could get a ride with relatives. About two or more weeks later Mom returned home in an ambulance.

Mom’s insurance didn’t cover all the costs, naturally, so it seemed every time I visited the hospital I was told to visit the bookkeeper’s office. I was always asked when payments would be made on the enormous amount owed. Actually, anyone visiting her was asked the same thing.  Even her divorced husband, my father, was furious when they spoke to him although it didn’t seem to bother him that I was being harassed.

Another little fact, the hospital head bookkeeper was also the sister of the head bookkeeper in my own office so they both knew my whole family situation. I think the hospital eventually just wrote the whole thing off.

THE ACCIDENT

In our home in Atlanta one evening I looked out the front upstairs window and saw blinking police car lights where our residential street intersected with the main road. My husband was playing poker with our pastor and several other parishioners at the priest’s house, so I mentioned to my youngest that it looked like an accident had happened. She knew I was prone to be an ambulance chaser and was joking with me as we started walking up our street.  The police car left as did a tow truck so my daughter said she was going home but I continued on.  As I kept on walking in the dark someone came toward me.  A voice said “Mom?” I said “Chuck?” Then I asked if it was my car being towed and sure enough it was. It was a used car that had been purchased only two weeks before.

We walked home where I called the parish house and broke the news to my husband. A fellow poker player who was an insurance agent said for our son not to admit guilt even though I said he was definitely in the wrong. He had pulled out onto the main road and into traffic figuring he could beat the oncoming car.  It’s a good thing the other driver wasn’t going fast because Chuck could have been killed.

The next day Chuck and I went to the towing garage and met with the insurance agent who said the car was totaled. Fortunately our insurance would cover the loss. As we left, Chuck thanked me for not being angry with him. I vividly remember telling him I could always get another car but I couldn’t get another son. That day he learned he wasn’t invincible.

The insurance company gave us a check for only $100 less than we had paid. The accident was kind-of a blessing in disguise. We discovered we had bought a lemon and it was burning an enormous amount of oil.

Chuck had to go to traffic court.  The judge said “How do you plead?”  Chuck said “Not guilty” at which point the judge berated him and said “How could you plead not guilty when you definitely are?”  It’s possible he told the judge that his Mother told him to say that, but I’m not sure.  Anyway, I’ve always been glad I handled everything else the way I did.

WRITING

I think I’ll reveal to you something I don’t think I ever told anyone. As a child I always wanted to write short stories. In class when we read aloud what we had written, the other kids always said mine were the best. I usually put in that extra twist.  You’ve probably noticed I’m still doing it.

For years I always gravitated to short stories in magazines and to books of short stories.  As I got older I decided to educate myself and started to read through Dickens.  After a couple of his books I became depressed with his writing. My life was depressing enough without adding more to it so I stopped and ended up reading modern novels.

My mother loved to read and she would get books from a rental library at a low daily cost.  After she finished them, I read them very quickly because every day cost money. That may be the reason I became a speed reader.

In high school I couldn’t understand kids who hated to read and complained about having to write a book report. English was always my best subject and I got A’s on my report card.  When I was a junior, my teacher asked why my name wasn’t on the honor roll and I told her it was because she was the only one to give me an A.  After that I never got another A even though I was the best student in her class.

For years I would wake in the middle of the night and compose in my mind what I would like to say about something that was bothering me. I came to realize the early hours were the best time for me to use that creative side of my brain.  But it would take awhile before I would put anything in writing and a lot of my ideas I just left slide. I finally answered a call that came in the middle of the night and told myself I would write about my thoughts the next day. That’s when I wrote “Sleigh Ride”.

As a result my son gave me this “blog” and I now have the opportunity to do something I never thought possible and that’s the ability to say something and have people pay attention.  He may have created a monster but I thank him from the bottom of my heart.