You are 10 years younger than I and don't remember most of what I will reminice about. Born February, 1963 in the middle of a blinding snow storm, Dad drove Mom to the hospital in Fairbury, IL, hugging the side of the road while Mom leaned out the door watching for the white line that kept them out of the ditch. You were a fiery red head like the rest of us (2 sisters and 2 brothers proceeded you) and just as loud and noisey. Your legs were somehow twisted at the hips and for years you wore shoe braces that were connected at the heel to hold your legs rigid as you slept. Music was your gift, piano and saxaphone. You once played the grand piano in the ball room of the resort where The Shining was filmed. The ball room was empty when you peeked in and in typical Megan fashion took the stage and began to play. You were quite surprised when you finished, stood up, turned to leave and found the room had filled with people who all started clapping. I was so proud of you when you told me that story, so very proud.
You were very young when we lived on Owsley Street in Chenoa, IL. That is the house that I have always considered "home". It was a BIG green (quite ugly) house that sat at the end of Owsley on the alley. I know you don't remember playing hide and seek in Bill Liming's junk yard or the bats that flew up and down the alley just over our heads where we raced our ponies at twilight. You don't remember the sound of the train as it rumbled by the house or the bums that came to the door upon occasion asking for something to eat. I remember Bruce playing out in the graveled street we called our drive scraping roadways with his toy Caterpillar dozer. I remember the winter "someone", probably Dad, flooded the old over grown road between our house and Dorothy Hall's house and it froze overnight, making the most perfect skating rink ever. We didn't have skates but we all, the neighborhood kids and us Wilson kids, had rubber boots, most with the metal buckles down the front and they made for great sliding. I remember chasing and catching fire flies in the yard. I remember the quarter Dad gave Bruce and I to buy a comic at the drug store and then watching the hell he caught when we got home. That was grocery money but Dad loved us and it gladdened his heart to give us such a small pleasure. The rocking horse came out into the yard in the late spring and didn't go back inside until fall. I remember the giant wooden reels wire came on. We used to straddle them and play cowboys and indians, or stand on them, roll them down the alley and play circus. I remember going door to door selling Girl Scout Cookies and spending a lot of time in this old woman's home. She didn't have any money but she made dolls and traded me 2 dolls for 4 boxes of cookies. It was a hard lesson to learn when I found out dolls can't be used to pay the Girl Scout Counsel for cookies. It was at her house where I learned to love antiques. The smell and touch of things old and worn and so loved. I can remember when cousins Karen and Rick came to live with us. Karen and I shared a bedroom and in the winter she would come to my bed to huddle with me under our two thin blankets where we tried to keep warm at night as the wind driven snow sifted in around the window casings and drifted to the floor. I remember the Jungle Gym Dad bought me one year for my birthday. Janie and George Ann Powell and I were playing on it when I kicked backward on the ladder and broke Janie's nose. I remember fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Mom couldn't afford more than that to feed her growing family, but man, they were so good. I remember the day someone cared enough to send Mom a notice that there was a chit for her at Dorman's grocery worth I don't know how much so she could buy food for the family. Mom was so horribly embarrassed at the time, and young, and didn't realize that this was an act of compassion from someone in the community that cared about the Wilson family. I remember many things. Some bad and sad but the vast majority are fond memories of life on Owsley. It wasn't easy. We had very little. But we had us and that was all that matterd.
I love you Sister,
Julie
No comments:
Post a Comment