REFLECTIONS FROM THE BABY OF THE FAMILY
KAREN CONCETTA BERSCHAUER
BORN MAY 17, 1945
EARLIEST MEMORIES
1947 STYLE ROLLER BLADING. My first memory put in the timeframe of what I have heard from others is of our home on Oakdale Street. I have but a vague memory and being pulled along on the sidewalk and down a slopped driveway by my two older brothers. When I say "pulled," I have been told the boys put me in roller skates and pulled me along with them as they skated down our driveway. I vaguely remember a brother on each side grasping tightly to my hands, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched the pavement flying by. Because of the timeframe my family lived on Oakdale, I would have had to be somewhere between 2 and 3 years of age.
My next memory must have been not long after. My parents moved out of the house on Oakdale and moved in with my maternal grandparents for a period of time while they began construction of a new home at 109 South Culp. I loved to play with my two big brothers. They "constructed" a little city on top of a huge (well, it seemed huge to me) pile of dirt near the building site. They had collected 2x4 ends and scraps from around the builder's saws. I "drove" my wooden "cars" along the improvised roadways in Dirt City. I don't remember much else from the early construction project.
1948. By the time my third birthday came around, we were living in the two-car garage. My parents had made white shelving units which divided that large garage into a small apartment. I can still remember the green purse with silver buckles and clasps that I got for my birthday along with a pair of black patent shoes.
Always in my mind was the presence of my two brothers and my sister, Bert and Bob, my protectors, Phyllis my little mother and source of entertainment. I have no concept of how long we lived in this loosely fit apartment. Four highlights that linger in my mind are the following of which I have no idea of chronology.
THE HOT SEAT! Before my mother got her stove installed in the apartment, she used a small heating stove to heat our food. She would set a small pan on the stove and warn us to keep our distance. As children will do, Phyllis and I were running and playing around the stove and inadvertently knocked the pan off. I can't remember which of us got the scalded bottom. (Isn't it funny after all of these years, the memory is there but not who got the burn? )
POLIO. My sister, Phyllis, contracted polio. My mother put her in the big double bed that was blocked off from the rest of the apartment. I believe it had been my parent's bedroom, but became Phyllis' sickbed. Because she was in bed all of the time, Mother let me get up with her to keep her company. I remember my favorite occupation was to jump up and down on the bed as hard as my legs could go. What made it so much fun was seeing Phyllis giggle. I didn't realize the enormity of her illness, but somewhere within me I knew something was terribly wrong and I wanted her to be happy. Right behind that bed Daddy had tacked up a piece of fiberboard to cover the wall between the garage and what was to become the utility room. One day I ran complaining to Mother that something was biting me. She came and checked both Phyllis and me only to discover that we were covered with flea bites! The fiberboard was infested with fleas! Mother was horrified! Daddy got an earful that night!
THERAPY The plasterers were working in the living room. With each swish of their hand a new green swirl appeared on the wall. I spent hours laying on the mattress that had been laid on the floor in the unfinished living room which had become Phyllis' and my makeshift bedroom. Also standing in the living room was a table that Daddy had built that actually brought a shiver down my back when I looked at it. Was it every other day, I can't remember, but a health worker would come and between she and Mother, they would place Phyllis on the table and go through a series of exercises to help her regain the use of her arms, the aftermath of the polio. I didn't fully understand why they did what they did. I just knew it made Phyllis cry. I was curious about the procedure, but inevitably I would run outside with tears streaming down my own cheeks. I couldn't understand why Mother made Phyllis do this when it made her cry. A part of me also questioned why it made her cry. I mean, all she had to do was lift her arms up and down. The whole thing was very confusing to me, so I buried the feelings - the beginnings of a life-long strategy to handle what I couldn't understand.
SPLITTING HAIRS? I always loved to tag along after my brothers to watch the fascinating things they did. They always seemed to be building something. With all of the scrap lumber from Daddy's building project, there was plenty of materials at hand. One day Bert began to gather pieces for a project. I begged him to watch and he grudgingly allowed me to tag along. We went to the back porch where he laid a piece of lumber across the back step and a sawhorse. He began to saw the board lengthwise. When the board began slipping around, he put his bare foot on the board to hold it in place. He went at it again, sawing closer and closer to his toes. One last stroke and......YEOW! He cried out, grabbed his foot and began hopping around. At the sight of blood gushing out around his hands I ran for Mother! Bert refused to go to the doctor, so Mother said, "It's alcohol or the doctor. Which do you want?" "Just put alcohol on it and wrap it up," Bert said. I watched in awe as Mother poured half a bottle of alcohol over the toe that was sliced down the middle almost to the base of his toenail. My brave brother didn't even cry! I guess he did grit his teeth a lot. That toenail carries a nice ridge down the middle as evidence of his bravery to this very day!
1949. By now, Bert, Bob and Phyllis were all in school. Mother had more free time at home, but wanted to make some extra money. She was hired by the Star Bakery to make some of their delicacies. I became her little sidekick and "helped" every morning in "spanking" the bread as she made cinnamon rolls, Swedish tea rings and other goodies that were delivered daily to the bakery. As much as I loved to be Mother's helper, I really enjoyed the deliveries. More times than not I was awarded a nice, big caramel apple for my wages from the head baker. Yum! I suppose the fact that I got Mother's total attention during these times was a big factor in my enjoyment as well!
Mother and Daddy always seemed to be helping someone out by having them room with us. The first roomer I remember was my Uncle Hank, Daddy's younger brother. I loved to have him come as he always played hide-and-seek with me. He'd hold me on his lap, and always seemed to be laughing and made me laugh as well. One particular day I just couldn't seem to get enough of his attention. Uncommon for him, he corrected me and told me if I didn't stop pestering he would leave and not come back. He'd never done that before, so I wasn't too worried and continued to pick and poke, hoping to get another good tickling. When he finished talking to Mother, he got up and said, "Karen, I told you I was going to leave if you didn't stop that." Out he walked. I was heartbroken. I ran to the couch, climbed up and pressed my nose to the large, living room picture window. "Come back, Uncle Hank, Please come back. I won't pester you any more," I begged. I cried and cried until at last, Mother gently cradled me in her arms and rocked me in our old platform rocker. She assured me that Uncle Hank really didn't mean he would never come back. Her arms were a comfort, but I was sure I was responsible for Uncle Hank being gone. I don't know about the rest of the family, but it seemed to me that it was years and years before he returned. When he did, you can be sure I was on my very best behavior!
1950. Kindergarten! What a traumatic year! By now I was accustomed to having Mother all to myself (2 school years worth) while Bert, Bob and Phyllis were at school. 1950 was my turn to enter in the halls of academia. That one-room, white frame building didn't look frightening, but every morning when Mother took me inside the cloak room and Mrs. Leach came to greet me, my stomach knotted. After all, I didn't know any of those kids...well, except for my cousin, Carol. Not wanting to stay, I would hang on to Mother's hand for dear life and cry. For several mornings, Mother gave in and stayed with me. There came one morning, however, that my hot little hand was pried loose from my lifeline and Mrs. Leach dragged me into the other room. I spent several mornings in terror (as I remember it). Then my devious little mind made a plan. Mother said she would stay in the car IF I went into the school by myself. I made a promise, slipped out of the car and walked up the steps to the school. As I opened the door I turned and waved at Mother. She drove off, satisfied that I had FINALLY decided to make a go of it. Instead, as soon as the car was down the block, I slammed the door shut and made a beeline for home, running all the way. This same procedure took place for about three days until Mrs. Leach and Mother got in cahoots. I was summarily pulled into the building and got a good paddling from Mrs. Leach. Poor Mother! I realize now how difficult it must have been for her to drive off. However, once the trauma was over, I found that I loved kindergarten. I went from reluctance to being in school to having a deep love for learning that has never left me.
THE CRYBABY I'm not sure why, but it seems I wore my feelings on my sleeve, or so Mother always told me. It didn't take much to make me cry. Mother usually just scolded me and told me to be a big girl. One of my fondest memories was Daddy's method of encouraging me to dry my tears. Many times I was cuddled on his lap while he sang, "Oh, Susannah, oh, don't you cry for me. I come from Alabama with my banjo on my knee." Of course, a few little bouts of tickling accompanied the singing. I never hear that folk song without thinking of being cuddled in my Daddy's arms.
1951-52. First Grade - Bob's encephalitis . The day he went into convulsions.- staying at Grandma's waiting to hear from the hospital. Mom's cool head in meeting the crisis. Carol staying with us while Aunt Doris worked. Mom drilling us on alphabet, words and math facts because Carol was having trouble memorizing them. Mom sewing costumes, special Prairiesta Dresses. Playing on the bed set up in the living room with Bob. Doing puzzles.
1952-53. 2nd Grade. Don't remember too much about this year except that I got some sort of infection in my nose and they painted it purple...right before they took school pictures! I sure had a funny looking nose!
1953-54. 3rd Grade. I started wearing glasses! Bert and Bob teased me. One of their buddies commented, "I knew it, I knew it would ruin her looks!" Who cared? I could see the leaves on the trees!
1954-55. 4th Grade. I played along with my onery brothers to make Phyllis' life unbearable. She began wearing a bra. They asked me to get one of them for her. I sneaked one out to them and they passed it around to all of their buddies to autograph. One night when (I think it was Jerry Galyardt) one of the buddies was visiting for supper, either Bert or Bob said, "Say, I found something," and pulled the autographed bra out of their pocket and waved it around. Phyllis was of course mortified, grabbed it and ran into the bedroom crying. I felt like a traitor, no matter how much fun Bert and Bob had over this.
1955-56. 5th Grade. I loved to go with Bob and Bert when they worked on their cars. Once when working at Petroleum Speciality, Bert started his 52 Chevy and it backfired. It scared me to death and I cried until he took me home. He was very understanding at first. However, when I refused to be comforted he lost his cool and called me a little dummy. There was the little crybaby again!! Went to Mary Alice's house with Bert. We played Starlight/ Moonlight. Bert was the last to be caught. I jumped out of the bushes to catch him and he plowed me under, breaking my glasses in the process. I was scared to death to go home and tell Daddy. Bert hugged me to him all the way home, and told me he would take care of it. He took the brunt of telling Daddy, and of course Daddy's ire came down heavy on him. Daddy never liked to spend a dollar that wasn't necessary, especially for some careless action. I felt so guilty for Bert taking the tongue lashing. He was so gentle with me, and that made me feel even guiltier.
1956-57. 6th Grade. Bert danced with me on our New Year's Eve celebration at home. Was I ever proud that my big brother danced with me. He graduated and left for the Navy in 1957. Folks sold the house and we move into a rental. Mom and Dad were now very distant with each other. No longer slept in the same bed. I noticed, but at the time didn't allow it to sink in. Mother kept telling me to beware of Daddy and his temper. I had become paranoid and was very afraid of him. Mother began to tell me that we would be better off without Daddy because we couldn't trust him. I bought it all.