So I’ve taken you forward, now I want to take you backwards
in my life. I set out to let you know
what happened to me during my marriage to Mike, to tell you things I didn’t
answer in my “Prodigal Daughter” articles, and forward from the end of those
articles until now. I think I am done
talking about that part of my life for a while.
I want to talk about my early life.
I hope you will enjoy it.
I covered my birth, Mom’s surgery, and Beau leaving in Hello Ilsa, Goodbye Beau. My first memories are not of my Mom but are
of Oma.
I was a loved and adored child by all those in my life. I was welcomed in the same pomp and
circumstance that most babies are in this culture. I was a cute and precocious
child, ever the entertainer. I remember
jumping on the top of tables to sing and dance.
Putting a straw pot cover for a plant, on my head and dancing
about. Tucking a pair of pliers under my
neck and pretending to be the doctor, and was ready to give Oma a shot.
Angie was my best friend at that time. She was my cousin, born two months after
me. Many of my pictures at this age
include her in them. Grandpa would later
pit us against each other, making us compete against each other. He would give us a dollar for every A on our
report card. His way of motivating us I
guess. He would say things like, “Well
Angie got all A’s this semester and you only got 3. You need to do better next time.”
In Kindergarten I was devastated that she would not play
with me. I remember just balling. Angie,
and Sean, who I will talk about in Starting School,
were my only friends. Angie was from a
little different socio-economic class then I was. She was a bit more middle class and I was
just working poor. She gravitate more towards
those of her own kind, nothing wrong with that.
She would become a cheerleader and one of the popular kids. Although we are still family, we are not
friends like when we were kids. She is
now a grown woman, a teacher , and has children of her own. I recently saw her at a family function and
was so please that she sat next to me.
We visit with each other on Facebook and share our lives, but I don’t
think we will ever be that close again.
I grew up literally next door to Oma and Grandpa. They had moved Mom’s trailer next to them
after the surgery. Mom, Dad, Me, Oma and
Grandpa all shared about a 5 acre spread in Logansport. It was big enough for two houses and a large
garden. I have early memories of falling
asleep in Oma’s house and waking up in my own bed. I would start crying, because I didn’t know
where I was. I spent lots of time with Oma and Grandpa. I often wonder if my first language was not
German. I believe Oma spoke it to me a
lot as I grew up. I still understand
more then I speak. Angie and the other
cousins visited occasionally, but as far as I know never spent the night. Knowing what Grandpa did to me, I am very
grateful for that. I hope he never got
any other grandchild other then me.
I have an early memory of Oma taking me from her house to Mom’s
house and telling me I was going to start sleeping at my own house. I was screaming and crying I kept calling Oma
my mother. By the time Oma got me in
the house, she had to calm me down and tell me, “I am not your Mother. I am your Oma.” Mom says this conversation never took place
either, but she could not hear us, as we were in the hall and she was in the
kitchen. My little girl brain did not
understand that Oma was not my mother. I
thought that my mother was my big sister.
Sorry but a lot of my early memories of my Mom, are of her going out and “looking for a new
daddy” for me. I used to go up to
strange men and ask them if they wanted to be my Daddy.
I could read long before I went to kindergarten, by about
age 3 or 4 I think. Oma would read me
the books, and then tell me to read them back to her. I am still big about books and parents
reading to their kids. Grandpa imparted
his wisdom on things like the stars, gardening, and his world travels. He was a Merchant Marine, that’s how he met
Oma you know. He was often at sea, but
in the summer time, me, Momma, Oma and him, would all travel in his motor home
aka RV. He sold Chase refrigerated
doors. These are the doors you see in
the grocery store, that are made of vinyl, and seal in the cold air in the meat
and frozen food areas. They are usually
split down the middle and have clear windows in them. I traveled 7 southern states, before I was
5.
Three of my early memories happened in that motor home. The first is of my mother. We had been driving all night. We pulled over, parked and slept. I remember awaking in the dark to the sound
of ocean waves crashing against the
shore. My mother was lying beside me in
bed. We had arrived at Biloxi Beach and
we spent the day there swimming. My next
early memory is of sitting at Oma’s feet, crocheting and singing “On the road
again.” I was maybe 3 or 4.
The third memory is I believe of Grandpa attacking me. I believe he attacked me at least twice. Once about 2 ½ and other time about age 4 or
5. I believe he would attack me in my
sleep. I believe these two times I woke
up during the attacks. I have this memory
of just him and me alone in the motor home, on a trip by ourselves. My mother says it never happened, but I remember
him telling me this story of us being on a trip in Mississippi. He told me he could not get me to quit
screaming. That I screamed from
Mississippi, until he put me pack in Oma’s arms here in Louisiana. I remember part of this. I was sitting in the big chair up front, and
every time I looked at him I started screaming and crying. I believe he attacked me on this trip and
this was my reaction.
Oma made one more trip to German before she died, in the
early 1980’s. I know there has been
talk, from family members, over the years that many believe Oma would never
come home. That she would just stay in
Germany, now that her children were grown.
That finally, she could be free of Grandpa. Whatever her reasons, whether she came back
for me or us grandkids, or for Mom, or for other reasons she came back.
Ilsa
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