Renie and I on our street in Manoa Valley, Jun 1958
June 1958 • La Habra, Orange County, California ~ I had my picture taken with our neighbor Renie, said goodbye, then Mom boarded me on a plane for California to stay with Carleen for the summer. Having traveled alone on buses I wasn’t afraid to fly by myself. I knew as long as I got on the right plane and Carleen was at the gate to meet me, I’d be fine. Nearly eight hours later it landed at Los Angeles International Airport. I could see a few jackrabbits out the window as we taxied to the terminal. Carleen was waiting, waving to catch my attention as I made my way down the portable metal steps. My sister took one breath of the reeking air of neglect hovering about me and knew Mom hadn’t left me on the back porch to die, but just about. I looked like a rack of bones with long blonde hair, my thinness barely disguised by my blue top, contrasting pedal pushers, and several strands of nearly crushed plumeria leis that I’d made to give to everyone. She’d worried about me since the family separated. She wasn’t going to worry any longer; as soon as she set eyes on me, she knew was keeping me.
God finally granted my prayers for a different mother. I turned ten that summer, and for the next nine years, until I graduated from high school, I lived with Carleen and her family. I’d been the youngest of five, had lived with another family for six months, was an only child for a while, then was the youngest of three, and now I was the oldest of three; Debbie and Randy were closer in age to me than my own siblings. For the first time since I was four years old, I felt as if I belonged. Chuck gave his blessing when Carleen told him they weren’t returning me to Mom; it was one of the few things they agreed on during their marriage.
Debbie was nearly five when I arrived to live with them on East Verdugo and Randy was a year-and-a-half; Carleen was twenty-two when she stepped back into the moccasins of mothering me.
Randy (almost two), Debbie (age 5), Cathy (age 10), Sep 1958, Huntington Beach
Chuck worked nights as a machinist in a shop in Vernon that made airplane parts for Boeing. My early memories are of him sleeping during the day, disappearing into the depths of his garage on weekends, and stabbing the backs of our hands with his fork if we reached across the table at dinnertime. Fortunately, he worked long hours.
Cathy, Sep 1958
We were a family. I didn’t miss Mom, and I didn’t throw up anymore.
to be continued…
© 2018. Catherine Sevenau.
All rights reserved.
Deb Albertson says
I love that you’re in my life, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. One of my earliest memories is you arriving from Hawaii when I was 4. We were sitting on the bedroom floor while you opened your little overnight case and took out the few pictures you had. One of the pictures was you dressed in a Hawaiian dress with a lei and pictures of the parade in Honolulu. I so looked up to you, a big girl of nine who would talk to me like a friend. I never lost that feeling and always admired you so much. Even when you’d fall asleep before you tickled my back in return.
Catherine Sevenau says
I love you so! I’m grateful to have been your older sister. Thank you.
Barbara Jacobsen says
You look so beautiful and happy! All you needed was love and family to heal and restore your inner strength… which served you well during all that dark time. Thanks and bravo!!!
Susie Price says
Cathy, unlike many of us, you can still be identified from your photo at 8 years of age. What a sweet little girl. Behind that sweet face, was so much pain which most of us knew nothing about until you started writing. …And Huntington Beach, I remember it so well. For our family, it was THE beach.
Catherine Sevenau says
It was THE beach for us too. Newport Beach didn’t happen until high school. I do look a lot like my girlhood pictures; at least I finally figured out how to deal with that cowlick! We all have a story in our past, some harder at times than others. It was so long ago it seems she is no longer me.
Kay says
You look fantastic at the beach. A very pretty happy young lady. Thank goodness for other mothers. I still struggle sometimes with I’m defective, unlovable. I have to hug that part of my brain let it know I’m doing ok, it can go wait until I need it again. I’m so glad your smiling.
Catherine Sevenau says
It took me a long time to learn to take care of myself, and not as my mother took care of me. Those patterns are hard to break. We’ll both give ourselves a hug!