Claudia, Apr 1955, San Jose
April 1955 • San Jose ~ In April, Claudia came to live with Mom and me, and sometime after she arrived, Betty showed up on the doorstep. Mom wasn’t expecting her as she had chosen to live with Dad after we left Tuolumne. Betty stayed with him in a motel in Castro Valley for six weeks, but living with Dad was hard so she went to live with Carleen and Chuck for seven months in Montebello for the rest of her freshman year, then moved back with Dad in San Francisco. She went to Presentation Catholic School her sophomore year, where she snuck lipstick, rolled her skirts up and bobby socks down, and smoked cigarettes like all good Catholic school girls. One time, walking home from school, she and a girlfriend noticed a candy-apple red convertible parked at the curb with the keys dangling from the ignition. The girls took one look at each other; Betty figured she could drive a stick, so they hopped in and lurched along until she got the hang of it. They gave that shiny red car a spin around town for an hour with the radio up, the top down, and their hair blowing in the wind, then re-parked it with the keys still in the ignition, nervously laughing the rest of the way home.
Dad wouldn’t let Betty date at sixteen. Not only that, he told her she couldn’t date until she was eighteen and he would come along on her dates until she was twenty-one. That’s why she ran away to Mom’s, which as it turned, was not such a hot idea.
Claudia, Cathy, Betty, 1955 Easter
Dad and Betty picked Claudia and me up at Mom’s for Easter. We went to Mass and then spent the day with Larry on campus where we had our pictures taken in our new outfits. Then Dad drove us back to San Francisco for dinner at the wharf and to spend the night. When Claudia and I were leaving the next day to take the bus back to San Jose, Betty told Claudia to tell Dad that Claudia lost her ticket so he’d have to buy her another one. Dad found Betty packed and waiting for us at the downtown bus station. He was hurt and disappointed, but he let her go.
Greyhound Bus Station at 7th and Market, May 25, 1954, by Joe Rosenthal
Mom’s tiny place grew tinier with four of us living there. We moved to a daylight basement apartment, a one-bedroom with a living room that had a combination sink, stove, and refrigerator unit in one corner, and a bathroom on a raised platform in the other. We could sit in the tub and watch the television below. It was a black and white Philco with three stations and aluminum foil-wrapped rabbit ears for better reception. It took five minutes for it to warm up.
My sisters and I slept on a green pullout sofa bed. Sometimes I slept with Mom in her twin bed to escape them. I cried when they claimed I had cooties, then mocked me for being so touchy. I hated that I cried so easily. Claudia ignored me and Betty entertained herself by teasing me. When she got bored she’d pin me to the floor, sit on my stomach, lock my arms over my head, and with her face hovering twelve inches over mine, water torture me with dangling spit, then dig her nails into my ribs and armpits until I screamed and threatened to pee. It was the only excuse, along with my tears, that got her to let me go. Claudia sat on the couch with her arms crossed, snickering. It was better before they came, but I was glad they were there.
Betty, Cathy, Claudia at Dad’s apartment in San Francisco
to be continued…
© 2018. Catherine Sevenau.
All rights reserved.
Patricia says
I love the photo of all those cars. I was four days old when the photo was taken.
Gail says
Gross.. ‘torture me with dangling spit’….which reminded me that my brother closest to me in age & I would do it to each other once in a while. Or maybe it was just me that did it to him since I was the oldest one. Hummmmm…. Maybe he thought I was mean to him. Well, I don’t need to venture down that memory lane since he’s not alive to ask.
Patricia says
It sounds typical of being the youngest and a lot younger than the rest. There were five of us, and I was the youngest and six and a half years younger than #4. My sisters and brother did the same kind of things to me, and Mom would let them all tickle me for at least 30 seconds before she would tell them, “That’s enough.” One sister would say, “Is Patty going to cry?” Then she would stare at my eyes which would make them sting. Number 4 told all my friends that I was a spoiled brat and not to listen to me. As a result, they ignored me when I tried to tell them how sassy she was to Mom and all the things she did to me. I asked why I got spanked, and I would be told, “Because you were naughty.” I still don’t know what I did wrong.
Barbara Jacobsen says
My big sister was mean to me too, but now she goes out of her way to be kind and solicitous (from a distance)….I wonder if it’s from guilt, Christian teachings, or genuine remorse? I appreciate her offerings but am still wary….our political and religious values are totally opposite…so strange.
Susan Dalberg says
Big sister bully trend. Mine would tickle me until I wet my pants, then holler at mom what a baby I was. If we got in trouble, she was usually the initiator but I got punished right along with her. I still miss the person she was!! When we were older, we were best friends. All three of you girls are beautiful!!!
Jim Chatfield says
Cathy, you had a hard life, and reading your story it makes a person appreciate the upbringing they had so much better.