1:43 p.m. - 2007-08-04
and Baby makes....
Saturday, August 04, 2007
OATMEAL & KISSES -
1948 - Chicago, Il.
Now that Patricia was a young mother once again, she found her idle thoughts turning back to her teen years, especially when she got her birth certificate. Ever since the death of her mother, Josephine, in January, 1945; Patricia was even more eager to learn about her birth father. Even though Bill Drain, her step-father, loved her as much as his other children; Patricia felt alone. Even all the sisters and brothers she had grown up with were really only her half-brothers and sisters. Who did she belong to, what was her birth father's family like, why was she taken away from her birth family?
She was sure if she could talk to Aunt Lucille, in California, the truth would come out.
Coincidentally, Bill Drain decided to take a trip to California about 1949. He offered to drive Patricia and Terri Jeanne there. The intention was to visit with Aunt Lucille and her daughter, Norma (who was just a few years older than Patricia) and see Bettie, Patricia�s oldest half-sister, who had been living with Aunt Lucille for a few years. So off went the little group making their way to California.
Patricia did have that conversation with her Aunt Lucille. She was told that her mother had been married before, but met and fell in love with Bill and after a few years was divorced by Arthur T. Hill. She was told she had a twin brother and an older brother. Aunt Lucille encouraged Patricia to try to locate her original family in Oklahoma. Patricia knew she couldn�t discuss her longing to find her birth father with Bill. She loved Bill very much and would never want to hurt him. So, instead of asking if they could drive to Oklahoma on the way back to Illinois, she decided to send a letter to her birth father. She had only his original address and hoped that the Post Office could forward the letter to him. Aunt Lucille was sure that the Hills still lived in the same area in Oklahoma. Patricia sent the letter and wondered what the outcome might be.
A few weeks after she was back home in Chicago, the letter she had written with such care and so much hope and some dreams, was returned. The outside of the envelope was marked with all kinds of forwarding addresses but the messages that were written on the envelope broke her heart. The messages said "Don�t write here again, we don�t want to hear from you." "Let us alone, you are not part of this family". Patricia felt ashamed and even worse...rejected and alone.
Life went on very well in the 3rd story apartment on N. Clark St, Chicago, Il. There was a small back porch off the kitchen. It was high enough for a breeze to flow through. There was a stairway on the left side which had a locked gate. The children could play outside and be in a protected area and could be seen from the kitchen door or window. The yard below was mostly dirt. Some of the tenants grew vegetables to supplement their food choices.
Leonette was a wonderful cook. She made the best cornstarch pudding. Terri can taste it to this very day. And Donna made a unbelievably delicious banana boston cream pie. Mmm, Terri can still visualize it, smell it and taste it too. It never lasted very long in that household either. For breakfast, everyone often ate cereal out of the box. There were little comic books like comic strips inside if you ate down to the bottom. Since Terri was learning to read, this was a real treat for her.
The apartment was called a "shotgun" apartment because if you could stand in the kitchen and shoot a gun; it would go straight through to the living room. There were 3 bedrooms, one was off the kitchen, where Terri and Virginia slept in bunk beds, Donald and Patricia's bedroom was across from the bathroom and the hall had a built-in area for storage and the last one was off the living room where Leonette and Donna slept.
The next area was the dining room which had a build-in buffet. and the front door. On one wall was a bookcase filled with Storybook Dolls. These were Madame Alexandra dolls, dressed as storybook heroines like Cinderella. They came in a cardboard box. The children were NOT ALLOWED to touch them but they could be looked at as much as the children wanted.
From the dining room, you would enter the living room. You could see a Catholic girls school across the street. It was surrounded by a high brick wall all the way around the block.
Leonette and Donna shared the bedroom off the living room. It also had a nice view of the school across the street. Donna had a big doll dressed in a fancy costume on the double bed. This was another room where children were NOT ALLOWED to touch the doll according to Aunt Donna!
One Christmas season, Terri had walked into the living room to sit on the couch to watch television. Just as she was about to sit on the couch, the white flocked Christmas tree, which seemed to touch the ceiling, fell over. Terri tried to get out of the way but the tree top hit her. She screamed and everyone rushed in to see what was wrong. The tree, being white flocking was fine, only a few ornaments broke and Terri was not injured.
In 1949, Patricia realized that she was pregnant again. On Feb. 3, 1950, a third daughter was brought home. Again, Terri climbed on the dining room chair to check out the latest bundle. She was pleased to see a beautiful baby girl with Daddy's dimple. This baby was named Bonnie Jo....Jo for her grandmother, Josephine. Her baby crib was placed in Donald and Patricia's bedroom.
In the fall of 1950, Terri Jeanne was old enough to start kindergarten. Blaine School was only a few blocks away and Patricia walked her to school each day. The big baby buggy that had cost Donald and Patricia so much worry became a very handy way to transport Bonnie and Virginia when Patricia walked Terri to school.
When they turned the corner on Clark St, Terri could see a big newspaper stand with all the various newspapers and magazines on the side closest to the street. On the other side, near the building was the blind man who sat there selling pencils. She was fascinated the day Patricia gave her a few pennies to put into the blind man's cup and he gave her a brand-new yellow pencil for school. But what was even more mysterious to Terri was the greeting that the blind man would give her even time they walked by him. "Hello, Little Miss Blue Eyes! Terri just couldn�t understand how he always knew it was her and how in the world did he know she had blue eyes!
Terri was a bit shy when she first started kindergarten but soon she learned to enjoy school and playing with other children her own age. One afternoon, one of her little friends asked her to come to his house to play after school. He only lived about a block away and so off the two children went to play. After an hour or so, his mother asked Terri when her mother was coming to get her and was very surprised to learn that Terri had not told her mother where she was going. Fortunately, Terri had learned her address and phone number the summer before school started. The little boy�s mother quickly called Patricia and let her know her daughter was safe and what the children had done.
Terri knew the phone number by heart. She had listened to her mother say it so many times when using the phone. The telephone was on the built-in cabinet in the hallway. It was a big black phone and when her mother picked it up, this is what she said....
"Hello, operator. My phone number is Wellington 5-4680. That is "W" as in Washington, "E" as in Edward, "L" as in Lincoln, another "L" as in Lincoln, "I" as in Iodine, "N" as in Never, "G" as in George, "T" as in Tom, "O" as in Orange and "N" as in Never."
Terri Jeanne�s address was 3814 Clark St., Chicago. Il. That is where Terri went to bed that night without any supper. She slept in the top bunk in the bedroom next to the kitchen. She could see the sun as it went down that night and hear the conversation and smell the good dinner she was missing. She really learned her lesson about not having her mother�s permission from that day on!
Life continued on, Donald took up a new hobby of photographing his children. He didn�t see them as much as he might have because he was still working nights. Often, after work, he would go to a restaurant in Logan�s Square. He enjoyed the meal, had some quiet time to himself before he went home to 3 little girls and he made some friends at the restaurant. He didn't spend a lot of his time in the apartment. He was the only male in a household which now numbered 3 adult women and 3 children. He didn't say where he was going when he went out and he wasn't asked about his whereabouts either.
Since Terri was the oldest, Donald occasionally took her for a few hours to the park and even to the restaurant in Logan�s Square. He had gotten into the habit of talking about his oldest daughter to one of the hostesses because she had a daughter just a couple of years old than Terri. It helped Donald understand how little girls behaved and what they enjoyed doing. He thought it would make him a better father of all of his girls. It just seemed too difficult to handle the other two younger children on his own. So he occasionally took Terri with him so the women wouldn't fuss at him about being gone so often.
Patricia also took the girls to Lincoln Park for picnics and to allow them to play. It reminded her of her childhood and the many hours she spent keeping her brothers entertained. In a way it was similar, because having the little girls out for the afternoon allowed Leonette and Donna to clean and cook. It seemed like a good arrangement for everyone living in the apartment.
About that time, Bill came to visit Patricia in Chicago. He wanted to make Patricia's birthday very special. He was doing very well financially and told her she could pick any place to go and he would pay for it. She decided she wanted to see a real strip show in a nice nightclub. Of course, Donald and Bill were very happy to agree with her choice of entertainment! She was taken to a fancy nightclub and was mesmerized by the talent and dancing of a "little person". She was not a midget, she was perfectly proportioned but she was just extremely small.. Patricia stared at her and almost memorized the routine, humming the musical numbers to herself. Afterwards, she told Bill she had a wonderful time. As she thanked him, he handed her a $100 bill and told her to spend it on anything she wanted. She had never even seen a $100 bill before and now she had one in her hand.
Bill stayed in Chicago for a few days. He even found a tavern in the neighborhood and took Terri along. She still remembers the smell of the alcohol. Bill put her up on the bar and fed her marishchio cherries out of his drinks. To this date, Terri loves marishchio cherries! Bill also took Terri for a ride in his red convertible with the top down. Bill really enjoyed spending time with his little grand daughter.
In 1950, Donald was part of a huge wedding for one of his twin brothers. Robert was to marry Eleanor and the whole family was excited to be part of such a special occasion. There was a large wedding party, a huge reception and a good time was had by all who attended. The wedding party was dressed in white tux jackets and the women wore their fanciest outfits.
In 1951, Eleanor and Bob spent a day at a lake with the family. It was there that Patricia told her that things were not going well between her and Donald. He was often away from the apartment. He was not spending much time with his daughters. He was even less talkative than normal. Neither of them were happy and the bickering was getting out of hand.
Terri, on the other hand, found herself in a new game. She was sent between Donald and Patricia to pass on messages within the confines of the apartment.
"Tell your father that supper is nearly ready."
"Tell your mother that I am not hungry"
"Tell your father that Leonette and I have spent hours preparing this meal".
"Tell your mother..............."
Terri thought it was fun to play the messenger and often the "game" went on for several minutes. Terri didn't realize her parents' marriage was falling apart.
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This is an essay Patricia wrote for a writing class in her later years....
"I never could understand why Mother of the Year or Father of the Year honors invariably went to someone in the entertainment, sports or political fields. Why couldn't they salute instead the single female parent of several children who held down 1 or possible 2 low-paying jobs to support her family? She still managed to instill virtues and good habits in her children. Or recognize the faithful husband and responsibile father of a large family for his many years of love and nurturing. Today I am writing of such a man. He wasn't a saint, and had his faults but he was a decent, good man.
His name was Bill, he was Scotch-Irish, the middle of 3 children, born and raised in Ohio. He left home when he was 18 and traveled all over the Midwest - Indiana, Illinois, Ohio, Oklahoma and Kansas. He learned on the job to be a carpet layer, and where ever he could find a job, that was his home. He was young, on his own and a happy-go-lucky bachelor.
When he was 20, he met and married a woman with a tiny child and overnight, became a husband and a father. The small family moved to Chicago and by the time the Depression began, the 3 had become 5, not counting two still-born babies of the young couple. During the Depression years, money was very scare and his family became more numerous year by year. Bill was not a complainer or lazy but there must have been many times when he didn't know how the family would survive.
But still he would get up every morning, riding the street car and carrying his tool box making the rounds. First to the Union Hall to see if they had a job for him. Laying linoleum in a restaurant all day was good for $5-$6 and a bigger job might be stretched over 2 days and net him $10-$12. If the Union had no jobs, he would stop in every business establishment along his way. He could often talk himself into a few hours of work at least. When he left home in the morning, he never knew when he would return that night.
His wife and children never knew either but when he did, there would be a late, late supper. If the hour grew too late and the children had to go to bed, their mother would prepare a big pot of oatmeal so they would have something warm and nourishing to eat. Bill hated to accept "charity" as he called it but was forced to sign up for bags of oatmeal, flour, sugar, prunes and etc. which were distributed once or twice a month by the government.
Bill was of an inventive mind, creating several small tools for carpet layer's use, selling the idea for small bits of cash. His only real wealth came with the invention of a metal sink rim he had patented, with a financial partner, Ray Hull. It was called the HUDEE sink rim and enabled the installation of linoleum on sink tops. The metal rim kept water from seeping under the edges.
By this time, Bill's wife had died and would never enjoy the beautiful home he could now afford. He subsequently married and divorced three times in search of martial happiness. His children were all in high school or older.
Always generous to his family and friends and always good for a hand-out; he spent money grandly and foolishly. He and Mr. Hull sold the HUDEE patent to Sears and Roebuck and for 15 years received a princely yearly check. But, Bill was not a business man. He bought a private airplane, had a pilot on stand-by duty, a gravel pit in Minnesota and invested in several disasterous ventures. It was only through Mr. Hull's insistance that he purchased a $8000 yearly annuity for himself. He lost his lovely home and swimming pool in Barrington, Il., his airplane, the gravel pit and several small businesses through his divorces and lived out the last 10 years of his life in Mesa, Az. with a younger daughter.
He was never bitter about his reduced circumstances. He often said that the best part of it was the designing and working with tools.
His name was Herbert Delos Drain, which he hated, or H.D.Drain as he signed legal papers but most folks called him Bill.
I called him Dad.
I never appreciated him fully till after he had died. I had grown older and wiser. He was always on the edge of my world as I carefully picked my way from childhood to adolescence and then to being a wife and mother.
The two most memorable birthday gifts which I received from him personally were quite different. The first was a book that I chose from a dusty shelf in a little general store. It was late at night and cold on January 11th; when he returned home from seeking work. He told me to come with him to the store to choose a gift. I was probably 8 years old. I could have picked anything, I guess, as long as it was cheap. There were dolls, toy pianos, and so on but my heart chose a slim, dark green leather covered book entitled, MY LITTLE ARBUTUS FLOWER. It was probably not even a child's book - similar to SILAS MARNER - but I fell in love with the small volume and would have nothing else for a gift. It filled the necessary requisites for a fine present. It was a book I hadn't read, it was lovely to touch and it was my very own special property.
The second gift occurred when I was much older. My Dad asked what I would like for m birthday and I replied. "I want to see a strip-tease show".So that is what he arranged. My husband and I, Dad and his current wife all went out to dinner and then over to a bar on Broadway in Chicago. The first show started at 9 P.M. and I watched entranced and fascinated while the various females bumped and grinded their fleshy bodies directly on the bar before me. I was completely enchanted by the music, the revealing clothes and exotic make-up.
As we left the bar, my Dad slipped another gift in my hand. When I looked, it was a $100 bill - the first one I had ever seen! I probably spent it on mundane things such as rent or food but the thrill and memory of owning so much money for a little while has never left me. Nor the sadness that I never told him very often that I loved him when I was growing up and had the chance.
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