Thank You, Aunt Fran...

 

Over the years, people have often commented on my strength through hard times. I don’t think I’m particularly strong, but I do have a thick skin and have learned to roll with the punches. I get that from my mother, of course. She’s a fine example of how to just keep on marching.

Really, though, I think ALL of the women on my mother’s side are remarkably tough. My grandmother was a badass who taught her daughters at her side. All of my aunts have played huge roles in my life and I’ve learned how to be the best me by watching and talking with them. I’m grateful for every moment.

The woman who taught us ALL how to swing  our machetes through the thick jungle, how to forage for sustenance, and how to identify the beautiful flora along the way was the eldest girl in the family, Frances. Aunt Fran to me. She was just such a part of my life from the youngest days and some of my earliest memories include her.

She had a house full of her own children but, knowing that my mother had the 9 of us on her own, she was always there. Making cookies at my grandma’s, taking us on adventures at her farm, and just demonstrating how to power through. I was too little to understand how difficult her own life was. But I knew that when I kneeled on a cactus patch to look at her fish pond, she would give me a cookie while I sat on the kitchen counter and she gently removed the needles one by one.

A visit to her flower shop meant I might get a crown of baby’s breath. She taught me how to thread my own needle so I could “repair clothes” while she sewed real patches next to me. A walk amongst her animals was always an adventure and she gave me my very first pet – a tiny black kitten! It was Halloween time, so we named her Pumpkin. That cat stayed with our family for more than 20 years.

When we moved several states away, Fran regularly filled her station wagon with Albert kids going to or from summer visits back home. She included us on many trips to visit other relatives in other places. Often, these trips in an old station wagon, with a lot of kids on old tires left us on the side of the road. What I remember about these moments is my amazing Aunt Fran standing back to assess the situation and then tackling a tire change, a weight redistribution, and getting us all back on the road without ever letting us see her stress.

As my brothers were older and living in our home town, it was not unusual to find a bag of groceries at the door. Or hand-me-down clothes. Or some gadget that may come in handy for a house full of Alberts. As an adult, I now know that Aunt Fran was a wheeler-dealer, and a bit of a scavenger. Those groceries were often discarded from the stores with Fran arranging to get the day old lettuce for “pet rabbits” or meat for her “pets”. To this day. My mother and I refer to these gifts as Bunny Greens. I loved those things.

When I got married, Aunt Fran offered her florist skills to make my bouquet and table flowers. We walked though the farmers market together and she picked out all of my favorite flowers. How did she know I loved freesia? Oh. I guess she probably paid attention to the things I liked as a kid. She then clipped a bit of greenery from the boxwood in the front yard of our new home.

I don’t know how many people bothered to look past her rough edges and tough exterior. As for me, I know that she was a loving sister and great companion for my mother. I know she had a sly wit. I know that she could find beauty in the most overlooked things. I know that she had a huge soft heart. And I know that I love her.

I know that her departure leaves a big hole in our family quilt but I’m so happy that she is reuniting with family on the other side and I hope that she is barefoot, running through a meadow and picking all the flowers she wants

Rest well, Aunt Fran. Thanks for all the You that you gave us. I will pass it on.

Baltimore...

I recently talked about Edgewood – our holding place between our midwestern hometown and our new home in Baltimore. The adventures didn’t end there. We eventually made it into our Hamilton neighborhood where we replanted our roots.

I remember walking into the house for the first time. It was – to my young eyes – a gorgeous mansion! At the entrance atop a short flight of concrete stairs, was a lovely screened porch! This would become my new favorite place - a playground that held my beloved toys but also a great place to look out at the world and see neighbors passing by. Beyond the porch was the entryway that everyone passed through.

Inside, there was a formal parlor. Maybe others would call it something else but this room was only used for special guests. It had a gas fireplace, built in bookshelves and was very grown up. Next, was the living room (which may now be called a family room or a great room) that would become the place to flop on the couch, watch television, play board games, or nestle on the built in window seat to read or color.

Walk past the staircase, and you’re in the dining room at the back of the house. This room had windows to view the back yard. It wasn’t a fancy room but it held the giant table (made from motel doors) with long benches where meals were eaten and homework was done.. On the other side of the swinging door was the long, narrow kitchen. At one end of the kitchen was a door that led to the back yard. At the other end, there was a door to the basement. The basement held the laundry and a lone toilet on a pedestal. Next to this throne was the Zappa Crappa poster with Frank on the john.

One thing about this house that made it special for our big family was the intercom that reached every floor. It made calling people to dinner easy! One was mounted next to the telephone in the dining room, one in the second floor hallway (next to another wall mounted telephone!) and one on the third floor. This was especially handy to find out who was there when people came knocking at the door.

The second floor had 3 bedrooms – one for my mom, one for my brothers, and one for us girls. Bunkbeds for the win! At one end of the hallway was the only bathroom in the house. At the other end, was a window that led out to the roof. We kids spent a lot of time hanging out on that roof. From there, we could watch fireworks at the Oriole stadium, we could shout at our friends walking by, or we could moon the neighbors. The possibilities were endless!

Beyond the house was a whole world that was new to most of us. At the top of the hill was the elementary school where – beyond school - I spent a lot of time. I rollerskated, rode my bike, and used the swing set and playground. We explored the dumpsters and found great treasure! Drawing paper, perfectly usable crayons and pencils, books, etc. There was no end to what we might find! Across from the school, was Sal’s - a convenience store with a deli. Anytime we had a little extra change in our pockets, we’d empty it in exchange for RC Cola, candy, or a sub. The library was a short bike ride away

As my older siblings quickly made friends, the third floor of our home became the place to be. It makes sense since this is where the drums, guitars, amps, and various and sundry music and noise makers were found. Cards were played, beer was chugged, brotherhoods were built. This may be a good time to point out that this part of the house was quite haunted and all of this teen energy surely fueled that activity.

The Albert house had always been welcoming to anyone who needed a safe place to lay their heads. At one point, my mother brought home a young couple and their new baby to stay with us while they found their own home. They briefly settled in our parlor. In the late 70s, bringing a black family into a white home wasn’t really done and I’m sure there were whispers from some neighbors about it. I think my mother always presented us with the best examples. Without preaching or lecturing, she showed us that we are all brothers and sisters and should always offer a hand when you can.

Baltimore was loaded with adventures to be had! Somehow, my mother always learned of opportunities to help us stay above water, At one point, the whole gang spent evenings cleaning trash out of parking lots. We had bags slung over our shoulders and stabbed paper, cups, cans, etc. with a stick with a nail on the end. It made quick work and gave us all pocket money for Sal’s. I spent time at the Boys and Girls club, where I learned about Duck Pin bowling learning to swim, and doing arts and crafts. A local photographer took modeling headshots of me (but when he said I might have to go to NY for that, I bailed with plenty of grumbling from my older brothers who were sure I could have made us all rich.) We spent our free time exploring what Baltimore had to offer. We tubed on the rivers, explored the streets and took advantage of every possible way to explore.

The mid to late 70s became rough in Baltimore. Because there was forced bussing in schools, there was a lot of tension in my older siblings’ Junior and High schools. Fists flew on a daily basis. My mother was very concerned about how this was affecting us and thought it was time for us to move on. We packed up our wonderful home and headed north.

We didn’t go far. We barely crossed the state line into Pennsylvania and landed in the middle of the woods. Thankfully, we were close enough that my mother commuted to her Baltimore job, we still saw our old friends and had many visits downtown. We still had the smell of McCormick seasoning in our noses and still knew how to properly crack and clean a blue crab, but it was pretty clear that our new home – while a short drive to our old one - was more than across that state line. It was another planet entirely.

 

 

 

Tested...

I was never a great student. I mean, I was smart, I understood the lessons and was bright enough that I was in the talented and gifted classes. I was just bored enough with it all that I didn’t actually try very hard. Grades weren’t very important to me as long as I kept moving forward. That’s what I’ve done all my life. One foot in front of the other, just keep moving.

That’s always worked for me.  By just taking a step, I’ve had quite a journey, doing things, having adventures, and meeting people one could have never planned. Of course, there have been hurdles along the way but I’ve been able to leap them or reroute my travel around them. Even the obstacles have added to the story.

In the last few years, however, those speedbumps have become big, nasty monsters. With teeth! I still keep moving, but the battle rages on and it’s exhausting. Those who know me and love me have cheered me on from the sidelines. They’ve seen the struggle and ask how I keep going. I don’t have an answer.

Life requires me to keep forging ahead when I’d really just prefer to hide in a corner and weep. But that obviously won’t get me anywhere. I wake each day not knowing what the challenges will be but, since it’s a whole new day, I put my feet on the floor and start again.

In addition to parental stressors, car troubles, and regular daily dramas, I’ve been desperately seeking gainful employment for about two years. I have skills and experience in many areas. When I send my resume, it gets attention. I’ve had MANY interviews and been in the final running more times than I can count. Nothing happens after that. I’m still on the search.

My patience left the building a long time ago. My optimistic outlook has taken a beating. Pollyanna has black eyes and chipped teeth. My inner warrior went out for a smoke break but hasn’t returned yet. Fortunately, my sense of humor refuses to quit so I think we’re gonna get through this thing with passing grades, and stories to tell.

Still, I’d like a large break and a small nap.

 

Thank You, El Dorado...

 

I’ve mentioned this in passing, but never really went into detail. Lessons learned here have carried me through my life thus far so maybe I should drag it up from the trenches of my memories. I’m sure my older siblings remember things differently, but to my little kid self, this is how it was.

In the early 70s, my uncle Bill was living in Hagerstown, Maryland and was opening a new restaurant in nearby Edgewood. He needed help and reached out to my mother to bring her on board. She, being the workhorse she is, thought maybe it was time for something new and different for our family. Plans were made for us to head east!

I only recently learned this part of the story, but my big brother Tim went east first to find our new home. He and Bill toured many Baltimore houses and then he found our perfect new home. It was a short walk to the elementary school, on the bus route, and in the perfect neighborhood for our family. I don’t really remember any of the leaving the Midwest details but I definitely remember the excitement about our new home!

We knew it was bigger than our current home. We knew it was a Victorian style three story house with a screened front porch, built in window seats, and a back yard. We knew it was grander than we could imagine and it was exciting! I remember planning with my brother Rick on the drive east that we would share a room on the third floor and we’d load our window seat with Funyuns and Reeses Cups that would be all ours!

This was an adventure! We were moving with eight of our nine kids (Tim was already on the road as a working musician so he didn’t move with us) PLUS two extra teenage boys who were moving with us. What could go wrong?

This is where the movie folks would put in a record scratch sound.

As it turned out there was a paperwork glitch that meant we couldn’t get into our new Baltimore home. Thankfully, my uncle knew the man who owned the closed motel next to his restaurant site and we were allowed to move in there while we waited to get into our house. As I remember it, we travelled east during Spring Break so we had a little bit of time to enroll in schools and figure out next steps.

Remember, I said this motel had been closed for some time. This meant that luxuries like electricity and properly running water were not available. Still, to at least the younger kids in the family, it was kind of an adventure – like camping indoors! We ran extension cords for power and prepared meals with a camping stove, an electric griddle, and a popcorn popper. We explored all of the rooms and each had our own favorite nooks.

School started and we’d all pile into the station wagon for the 30-ish mile ride into Baltimore for the drop off at the elementary school, the junior high, and the high school. I don’t know what my mother did while we were there but since I was in kindergarten, I only had half days. She’d pick me up, and we’d go to a park or playground or something to eat sandwiches for lunch and explore the area while we waited for the older kids to be ready for pick up. Then, back to Edgewood, to do homework, make dinner, wash the dishes in the bathtub, explore the motel, etc. Lather, rinse, repeat. I’m not entirely sure how long we were there, but it was probably at least eight weeks before we could get into our Baltimore home.

As a grown up, I don’t know how my mother did this. I never saw her collapse. I’m sure it was hellish for the older kids. For me – and probably a few of my younger siblings – I have only fun memories of that time. It was an exciting adventure! We explored this strange place and made it fun. We wandered the neighborhood and went to the arcade and movie theater – we saw Jaws! We were a united team, we helped each other, and we turned our lemons into delicious lemonade.

Obviously, these things are all about perspective. I’m sure the older kids’ version won’t be as rainbow colored but my view was exciting and joyous. I know my mother is a badass and I stand in awe of her abilities.

I’m grateful for the skills I picked up by osmosis because I’m still able to improvise my way through hardships. For that, I thank my mother for taking a leap and the El Dorado Motor Lodge for catching us when we landed.