1959 • La Habra ~ Mom moved back to California soon after I did, and upon her return stayed with us for a short time. Taking me shopping, she had me try on a blue and white ruffled one-piece bathing suit, flowered shorts, matching crop top, and Capri pants. Then she had me put my own clothes back on over all the new ones, her finger to her lips as we walked out of the dressing room and the store. I didn’t like my mother acting like some garden-variety thief; by then, even I knew better. When I told Carleen, she wouldn’t let Mom take me shopping anymore.
Mom, Sherry, Claudia
In February, a month shy of seventeen, Claudia gave birth to her first child. Carleen helped her, teaching Claudia how to hold the baby, how to nurse and burp her, and how to change a diaper. Claudia and Sherry had been home from the hospital for a week when the conversation turned to baby poop. Claudia didn’t know that a baby was supposed to poop every time it ate, and Sherry hadn’t pooped at all. She told Carleen, Carleen felt the baby’s tiny distended tummy, rolled her eyes at Claudia, and inserted a suppository in Sherry’s little bottom. That baby pooped and pooped and pooped, from black to every color of the rainbow then back to black. Mom was around, but other than holding the baby, she wasn’t much interested in helping out. She’d done her mothering time early on, and having grandchildren was in no way going to rekindle those defunct stirrings.
Bobby, Claudia and Sherry on Verdugo Ave
In early March, Bobby finished his stint in the Navy and he too returned to the mainland. He, Claudia, and their new baby moved to a small furnished house on Green Street near downtown La Habra. Betty and Tony lived in nearby Whittier where she was pregnant with her first child who’d be born in January of 1960. Mom stayed in La Habra for a short time then moved to Long Beach to live near Larry and Marian where they were both teaching school. She had a job for a while as a live-in cook and housekeeper for a big name potato-chip manufacturer. In June, Sherry was baptized at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, the occasion memorialized by family photos. Other than Dad, we all now lived in Southern California, not too far away from one another.
Betty, Mom, Larry, Claudia, baby Sherry, Carleen, Jun 1959
to be continued…
© 2018. Catherine Sevenau.
All rights reserved.
Carleen, Claudia, Betty, Larry, Cathy, Jun 1959
Susan Price says
Must have been difficult with Bobby around. I can’t imagine. Look at those photos – reminds me of my family. Everyone, other families as well, all looking very upright and all American. But we all had cracks in our interior walls… A month ago I visited a young woman who was graduating from high school in another state. She had lived with us for a semester about 2 years ago so that she could continue attending high school – her mother was staying with the younger sister at Stanford Children’s Hospital – they had been homeless off and on for three years here and it took its toll on the preteen daughter’s health. I finally convinced mom that she was never going to get her own apartment in Silicon Valley even if she finished her GED, so they went back to where they had family and friends. They now live in a nice two bedroom apartment, where I stayed with them. While there I learned every bad word in Spanish and how to combine them and use them in both English and Spanish conversations. Mom had had a very abusive upbringing, and although she loved her girls, her sad upbringing and anger hindered her. It was like watching a bilingual Rosanne. Angry people can be intentionally very funny; laughter can cover a lot of pain.
Catherine Sevenau says
Actually, after the incident with Bobby, I had no discomfort around him that I recollect. He was around a fair amount, even after I married (Claudia and I both divorced around the same time). I wasn’t afraid of him, and he never again tried to get too close to me, nor I to him. It was like something had happened, but was swept under the carpet and not brought up again. I didn’t return to that time until I had some health issues as an adult and a doctor suggested I work with it. I was shocked to find it bottled up inside. I think much of laughter stems from pain. It is a coping mechanism. Humor is a funny thing…